Page 17 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

Noah rolls his eyes. “Not because of that, idiot. Because of how you don’t take care of yourself.” He points with his index to my stubble and grown-out hair.

“You’re telling me that Maya needs a vacation, but the only way she will go on one is if I convince her I can take care of Marko?”

“Yes. So can you turn down the attitude for a day? We plan on sleeping over tonight, that way she can test you out and see if you’re up for it. That means you need to buck up and put on your best babysitter act. I don’t care what you have to do, but your sister needs this trip. She wants to think of every reason she shouldn’t go, so prove her otherwise.”

“No problem. I’ll be so convincing that even you will second-guess my capability.” I smile.

“God help us all.”

6

Chloe

I slip through the same warped wooden plank as last night. Dark clouds hide the moon, which makes my journey through the overgrown yard difficult with only a small flashlight. My mood takes a dive when I trip over a group of exposed roots. I land on my knees, scraping them in the process. Wet dirt clings to my legs as I stand, and I’m pretty sure my shirt ripped down the back based on the breeze tickling my skin.

“Has this man ever heard of a lawnmower?” I mumble under my breath as I brush a clump of dirt off my shin.

I somehow make it through the maze of trees and bushes without any more accidents. My neck cranes as I check out the ominous mansion this man calls home. It’s about as welcoming as a nap in a coffin.

“I’ve officially made an enemy out of Count Dracula. Good to know.” I scan the front entryway, not finding any cars in the driveway. Like a desperate fool, I search nooks and crannies for a spare key but come up empty.

I follow the perimeter of the house and peek through a few windows. The rooms are dark enough for me to catch my reflection in the glass. My confidence grows as I praise God for helping me out and making sure the house is empty.

I come up to the back porch. Testing my luck, I try the knob only to find it locked. The standard deadbolt is easy to break into based on the information I gathered earlier from YouTube’s crash course on picking locks. I’m not entirely proud of how many times I watched it until I mastered the movements.

I pull out a special screwdriver I scored from a local shop from my backpack. Holding my mini flashlight in my mouth, I replicate the motions I practiced on my own bathroom door this afternoon. After a few failed tries because of my nerves, the door opens with a click.

Darkness cloaks the house in shadows and random shapes. My tiny flashlight does a poor job of guiding my way through the kitchen. Nothing stands out on the counters, so I continue moving forward.

“Okay, think. If I was an unhinged man, where would I hide a phone?” I stumble out of the room.

I make my way through a wide hallway before I’m spit out into a large room. Everything is going fine and dandy until I trip on something I didn’t see with the flashlight. I let out a scream as I fall forward, landing on my hands and scuffed-up knees. My eyes water as something embeds itself into my hands.

My fingers brush across lots of small rectangular shapes with ridges. I pull one up to my eyes and analyze the foreign object. “A fucking Lego? This place really is owned by the Devil.” I crawl through the Lego warzone, brushing the pieces aside.

I make it to a grand staircase lit by the glow from a dangling iron chandelier. I’m halfway up the stairs when the front door opens with a groan. All hell breaks loose in the lobby of the house, and my ears ache from a female screaming.

My heart gets stuck in my throat. “Seriously. Why can’t I catch a break this week?” I whisper under my breath. All that effort for nothing. In a rush, I tuck the flashlight into my back pocket and turn on my heel, hitting the guests with my best smile. With my knees threatening to buckle, I clutch onto the railing for support.

A few overhead lights turn on, revealing a brunette in a billowing skirt and a T-shirt. “Oh my God. Santiago, who is that?” She screams again for good measure.

I’m tempted to cover my ears but stop myself.

“Hmm. I didn’t expect you to show up unannounced.” The same rough voice from earlier sends a shiver up my spine. How exactly did he want me to show up?

“The welcoming committee and marching band were busy tonight, so I couldn’t announce my arrival.” I smile at him, hoping my eyes scream fuck you.

I take a moment to get a good look at the grumpiest man I’ve ever met. Of course, Santiago has to have a sexy name to match his looks. Lighting from the chandelier illuminates his warm golden skin, making his brown eyes shine. The asshole happens to be the most attractive man I’ve had a chance to look at in my short life.

I feel cheated by the moonlight last night because Santiago looks sexier in the light. He makes rugged seem attractive in the best kind of way with a thick, short beard and long hair grazing his shoulders in a wavy mess. His dark shirt highlights bulging muscles, and his gray sweatpants show off strong thigh muscles.

Damn. Seriously, this man should not be running around in public. He’s a danger to society and women everywhere for multiple reasons. The first starting with the instant attraction I have in his presence.

The woman grips onto Santiago’s arm. “Is this your girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us! No wonder you haven’t answered my phone calls.” She speaks with such delight at the idea.

Oh God. No. My face must say everything words can’t. Santiago smirks like he’s in on a joke I’ve yet to catch onto.

I speak at the same time as him. “This isn’t what it looks like—”