Page 128 of Rastor

It was just after nine o'clock, early by my standards, and even earlier by Chloe's. Shedidwork nights, after all. But the restaurant wasn't open today, and I hadn't seen a note or anything. That left only one possibility. She'd returned to her own place for some reason or other.

Earlier, we'd left her house in a hurry. Maybe she'd forgotten something. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but with every passing second, I was liking it less and less.

I considered everything else that had been going on with that house. We still hadn't talked much about it, but I remembered the douchebag who'd been hanging around far too often. I recalled the other stuff – details that Chloe had mentioned in passing, like financial problems with the owners and confusion as to who actually owned the place.

Standing there, I tried to convince myself to stay put. We'd been back together for only a few hours, and muscling my way over there wouldn't earn me any points. Besides, I told myself, she'd been staying at that house for weeks now without needing me as a babysitter.

But I didn't like it. I liked it even less when something else hit me. If she walked there alone, she'd be walkingbackalone, too.

No, I decided. She wouldn’t. Not if I could help it. If she got mad, well, it wouldn't be the first time. And if she gottoomad? Eh, there were ways I could make her forget all that. Some of those ways were sounding pretty nice.

I was already dressed, so I pulled on a dark hoodie and some sneakers, and then headed out the back patio door, figuring I'd take the shortcut through the narrow gate that led to a neighboring sidewalk.

I was halfway across my back yard when I saw something that made me pick up the pace. Her house was dark, but in her bonus garage out back, there was a light glimmering from the attic window. That lighthadn'tbeen on earlier. I was sure of it. And I knew for a fact that Chloe never used that garage.

So, who was up there?

I moved faster, sticking to the shadows. I glanced at the gate that I'd been planning to use. Not anymore. It was too visible, especially from that upper attic window, so I skipped the gate and headed toward the part of my back fence that was cast in the deepest shadows.

I hoisted myself over the thing and landed in Chloe's darkened backyard with hardly a sound. I'd taken only a couple of steps forward when something sent my heart straight into my stomach. It was the sound of something shattering, like dishes or who-knows-what.

I swallowed, hard. The sound had come frominsidethe house.

Fuck.

Silently, I moved toward her back patio, trying like hell not to run. Iwantedto run. I wanted to bust through that patio door and face whatever it was, head-on. But from the things I'd seen in my old neighborhood, I knew better. That approach was risky, not so much for me as for Chloe.

She was inside that house. Shehadto be. And if something happened to her…

No. I wasn't even going to think about it. I couldn't. And I wouldn't.

So I moved faster through the shadows, conscious of the fact that somebody might also be inside the bonus garage, just a few paces away. But if that was true, odds were pretty good that personwasn'tChloe. So with quiet precision, I made for the back door and silently tried the knob.

By some miracle – or more likely, by the work of someone else – the door was already unlocked. Silently, I pushed it open, not liking what I saw.

Through the shadows, I spotted upended furniture, broken pottery, and a couple of paintings lying near the remnants of busted-up frames. With my back hugging the wall, I moved deeper into the house, listening for any sign of where Chloe might be.

And then, I heard a voice –notChloe's. It was deep, masculine sound, coming from somewhere near the front of the house. "Where's our money?"

I froze in my tracks. And when I heard the response, raw panic clawed at my heart. It was Chloe, sounding scared as hell. "What money?"

I was on the move again, listening as I went, planning to take the guy by surprise.

The guy spoke again, louder now. "The money you owe us, bitch."

Bitch? He'd pay for that.

"I don't owe you any money," Chloe stammered.

And then I heard something else, a new sound that had me moving faster now, opting for speed over silence. Because the way it sounded, time was running out. And if something bad was going to happen, I'd rather have the guy's attention focused on me, not Chloe.

Never Chloe.

Because the sound I heard was the cocking of a gun.

Chapter 66

I rounded the nearest corner, heading into the kitchen, and slammed into someone I hadn't seen coming – a heavy-set guy, dressed all in black. Whatever he was carrying crashed to the floor and shattered on impact.