Page 38 of Rastor

I wasn't joking. This trip, I wasn't looking forward to. But with Chloe, everything would be different. It could be a fresh start for both of us.

"I don't know what to think," she said, "but it doesn't matter. I'm working every day 'til Friday."

"Then c'mon, say yes for Monday." I looked into her eyes. "Please?"

Finally, I saw the hint of a real smile. "Maybe."

"I'm taking that as a yes." I glanced toward her house. "Can I walk you to the door?"

She shook her head. "Nah, that's alright." With a small wave, she turned and started walking down her long driveway. I waited, watching from the street, to make sure she got inside okay. And then, after I saw the lights flick on inside her house, I turned and headed back to my own place.

What I found there wasn't good.

Chapter 18

I heard them before I saw them. I was still on the sidewalk, walking toward my front gate when a female voice hollered out, "Let me in! I mean it!"

Damn it. The voice was Brittney's. With a muttered curse, I picked up the pace.

I was still moving when I heard Amber yell out, "Stop it! Or I'm telling!"

Striding through my open front gate, I spotted them in the turnaround. The way it looked, Amber was inside her car, and Brittney was crawling up on its front hood.

Amber's sunroof was open, and her head was poking out the top. Brittney lunged across the front windshield and made a grab for what? Amber's face? I never found out, because Amber ducked out of Brittney's reach just in time.

Brittney slid backward, down the front windshield. "Oh come on!" she yelled. "Just unlock the door, alright?"

Amber's head popped up long enough to yell, "No way! I'm not here to seeyou."

I looked toward the house and spotted Bishop, standing in the open doorway. He wore sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He had a coffee mug in his hand, and he casually took a sip.

I ignored him and strode toward the car. When Brittney spotted me, she froze, like a farmer caught fucking a sheep.

I stopped moving and gave her a good, long look. She looked like a cartoon hobo in dark, masculine clothes that were twice her size and vaguely familiar.

I eyed her up and down, cataloguing her clothes – black slacks, a button-down dress-shirt, a suit-jacket, and men's dress-shoes that looked about five sizes too big.

Son of a bitch.

I knew why the clothes were familiar. They looked exactly like the clothes the driver had been wearing maybe an hour earlier when he'd driven Brittney away. The only things missing were his cap and tie.

What the hell?

Brittney was still perched on the hood of Amber's car. "Oh, hey, Lawton." She gave me a nervous smile. "You're back."

"So are you," I muttered.

From inside the car, Amber popped up from the open sunroof long enough to yell, "She won't let me out!"

"Liar!" Brittney yelled before turning back to me. "She won't let me in!"

Again, I looked to Bishop. He was still drinking his coffee – or whatever. Come to think of it, he didn't drink coffee.

Did he?

Did it matter?

Cursing, I moved closer to Amber's car and peered through the glass. From the driver's seat, Amber yelled, "Tell her to go away!"