We both sat there and listened to the footsteps in the foyer. It sounded like whoever it was had high heels on. Or high heeled boots. Which meant it was probably the hitwoman. She wasn’t here to hurt Penny. She was here for me. No one else needed to get hurt.
I glanced at Penny. Another tear rolled down her cheek. We weren’t going to be able to hide in here for long. I hadn’t even had time to hit the lights to bathe us in darkness. We were almost completely exposed. I put my index finger to my lips to remind Penny to stay quiet. And then I crawled along the hardwood floors toward the other end of the kitchen island. I reached up and grabbed a knife out of the knife block and then sat back down.
The footsteps were coming this way. I couldn’t save Brooklyn all those years ago. But I could save Penny now.
I grasped the knife tighter in my hand. All I had was the element of surprise.
Penny moved to sit next to me, then grabbed my arm and shook her head.
I reached out and ran my thumb along her cheek, removing the tears. “Tell James I forgive him,” I whispered.
She looked confused. But James would understand. He’d know I was talking about Brooklyn. The least I could do was make that right. I pulled my hand away from Penny’s face.
I peered around the end of the island, but I couldn’t see anyone.
“Matt,” Penny hissed.
The footsteps stopped. “Is someone there?”
Fuck. I made my way around the side of the counter and poked my head out. I could see high heeled boots through my vantage point beneath the kitchen stools. They weren’t the high heeled black ones the hitwoman had been wearing the other day. They were shorter with a thick heel and kind of beat up in an on-purpose kind of way that I’d never understand. But it had to be her. Who else could it be? I gripped the knife tighter.
“Hello?” the hitwoman called again and made her way farther into the kitchen. Farther. Farther. Until her feet paused right next to my hiding spot. Before I could convince myself not to, I reached out, grabbed her ankle, and pulled as hard as I could.
She yelped as her feet got pulled out from beneath her and her gun clattered to the ground. I climbed on top of her, pinning her to the ground.
She screamed and started thrashing beneath me.
“Penny, get the gun!” But when I reached out to knock the gun farther away from the woman, all I saw was a high-end camera. A very broken high-end camera. I looked down at the woman beneath me. And for just a second I lost my breath.
Her dark hair was splayed out on the hardwood floors and she was staring at me like she wanted to kill me. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time she’d looked at me like that. And definitely not the only time I deserved that look of disdain. It had been years since I’d seen her. I’d asked Brooklyn for a sign at the graveyard the other day. And when I’d first seen the hitwoman there, I’d thought she was Brooklyn’s best friend, Kennedy. My sign was a few days late. But here she was. “Kennedy?”
Just as her name left my mouth she kneed me hard in the balls.
Fuck. I rolled off of her and tried not to start crying. Why did women keep trying to maim my member? Couldn’t they just slap me or something?
“Don’t move,” Penny said. She’d grabbed a knife too and was holding the teakettle in her other hand like she was going to throw it at Kennedy’s face. It wasn’t a bad plan. The metal and boiling water would be enough to hurt her. But I didn’t want Penny or Kennedy to get hurt.
“Stop,” I groaned, but it was barely a whisper.
“Put your hands in the air,” Penny said.
“Who the hell are you people?” Kennedy said. But she didn’t try to get off the ground. She just sat there, the look of anger replaced by fear. She slowly lifted up her hands.
“Who the hell are you?!” Penny countered.
“Stop,” I groaned again. I winced as I tried to sit back up.
Penny took another step forward, waving the knife around. “If you don’t tell me in two seconds who you are, I’ll… I’ll stab you in the face,” Penny said with very little conviction.
But Kennedy didn’t know that Penny wouldn’t hurt a fly. She looked as scared as Penny had a minute ago. There were even tears in her large brown eyes.
“Penny, put the knife down,” I croaked. “I know her. Kennedy…Kennedy it’s me.” I gestured to my face, waiting for recognition to hit her.
Kennedy blinked, the tears still pooling in her eyes. She didn’t seem to know who I was. Maybe because my face was distorted in pain.
“It’s me. Matt,” I said.
She searched my face. “Oh my God. Matthew freaking Caldwell? Oh my God.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.” She reached out like she was going to touch my nuts and then pulled back. “Do you need some ice or something?”
“You two know each other?” Penny asked, her arm still outstretched with the knife.
“Penny, would you put down the knife?” I asked again.
I watched as Penny put the knife down on the counter. But she was still holding the teakettle, like she was worried I was reading the situation wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to Kennedy. “I didn’t know you were coming…wait, why are you in my house?”
“I had no idea this was your place. I’m here to take pictures for a listing.” She looked over at her broken camera.
Oh. Oh! Bill had said he’d send someone over. I never asked him for details because I assumed it would be during the day when I wasn’t home. Not that I was supposed to be home now either.
Kennedy tried to stand up and winced. “Ow. I think I may have twisted my ankle.”
More like I had twisted it when I pulled her to the ground. She’d offered to get me ice a second ago when she was the one that was actually hurt. “Don’t move. We need to get your ankle elevated before it starts to swell. Penny, get me some ice from the freezer.” I bent down and lifted Kennedy into my arms.
She inhaled sharply. And I wasn’t sure if it was because her ankle hurt or because for just a second she felt like she’d been transported back 16 years too.
She smelled like her mother’s cooking. Mrs. Alcaraz’s famous empanadas. She smelled just like Brooklyn had when she’d lived with her uncle and then with the Alcaraz’s. And in the weirdest way, it smelled like home.
I held her like that in the kitchen for a beat too long.
She looked up at me, her eyes no longer filled with unshed tears. “Um…you can put me down now,” she said with a smile.
“Right.” I carried her into the family room and laid her down on my couch. I grabbed a few pillows to prop her ankle up. And then I unzipped her boots…boots that were perfect for Kennedy. The distressed leather was artsy and stylish on her. I let her boots fall to the ground and ran my thumb down the inside of her ankle. “Does that hurt?”
She nodded.
For a few seconds we just stared at each other. The scent of her skin made me feel at ease for the first time in years. Did she feel it too?
“Here’s some ice,” Penny said, rushing into the room. “I’m so sorry I threatened to stab you in the face. I thought you were someone else.” She finished wrapping a towel around the ice pack and gently placed it on Kennedy’s ankle, somehow knowing exactly what to do. I guess it was the mother in her.