I hear a gasp, followed by glass shattering on the floor, then hurried footsteps. A pained scream echoes in the kitchen. When my shoes crunch glass, I understand why. I flip on the light in time to catch a glimpse of him fleeing the room, running for the front door.
“Stop!” I race after him, seeing bloody footprints dot the foyer. He doesn’t stop. I cock the gun. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
He puts his arms up and turns. I’m stunned. He’s a she. A goddamn beautiful she.
Chapter Six
Devyn
I may have lost a few brain cells over my lifetime, but I’m not stupid. When someone points a gun at you and threatens to shoot, you stop.
My hands are in the air. Black-haired Guy is staring at me with a slack jaw after flipping on a light. I eye the barrel of the gun. I’m caught, and knowing what could happen next brings back terrible memories. I shake uncontrollably.
He sees my reaction and puts down the gun. I bolt to the door. I don’t care that all my stuff is two floors up.
“Wait!”
He comes after me, but I’m almost to the door. An overhead light turns on. I flinch and try the handle, but it’s locked. It takes a few seconds to unlock it, but that’s enough time for him to grab my arm. Instinctively, I push him away. He goes for my other arm. Not happening. I cock my arm back, bend it, and give him an elbow in the face.
He backs away. “Oh, shit.” He touches his face, then examines the blood on his hand. He tackles me. My knee comes up and connects with his crotch, but off-center. He doubles over but stays on top of me. He flips me face down and pulls my arms behind my back. He holds me in place, his knee in my back, droplets of his blood splattering a few inches from my face.
“Calm the fuck down,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then let me go.”
“You’ll run.”
“I won’t get very far without shoes.” It’s a lie. I’d run like hell, cut up feet or not.
He stays on me but eases the pressure on my wrists. “No, I suspect you won’t. And you must have stuff in the attic. What about that?”
“I’ve gotten by on less.”
“Who are you?”
“No one.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re stealing from us.”
“I wasn’t. I mean, I was, but I was going to pay you back when I could. I promise.”
He laughs disingenuously. “So you’re an honest thief.”
“I’m telling the truth. It’s all there in the notepad in my back pocket.”
His weight shifts off me momentarily. He releases one of my hands and goes for the notebook. I hear him page through it. “You kept track of everything you took?”
“So I can pay it back someday.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “All this probably adds up to less than a hundred bucks. If you’re so desperate, why didn’t you take the electronics? The artwork?”
“Because I’m not a criminal.” Another lie.
His weight shifts again. “Your foot is bleeding.”
“So’s your face.”
“When I get off you, you’re going to follow me to the kitchen, and we’ll get cleaned up, okay?”
“You mean before you call the police?”
“I’m not going to call anyone.”
“Why wouldn’t you? I’ve been stealing. I’ve been sleeping in your attic for—”
“About a month.”
I strain my neck to look back at him. “You knew? All this time?”
“Not until a few days ago. Guests told me they saw a ghost. I guess you weren’t as invisible as you thought.”
“You stayed here in hopes of seeing a ghost?”
“Listen, my knees are starting to hurt, and my cheek is swelling. Mind if we continue this conversation in the kitchen?”
He gets off me but keeps a hand firmly on my upper arm. What can I do? My foot is killing me, and all my stuff is upstairs. I try to take a step. Pain sears through my foot, and I almost fall down.
He suddenly sweeps me up in his arms and carries me back through the house. I can almost see a purple bruise spreading across his cheek. I resist the urge to wipe the blood oozing from his wound.
He gazes down at me. “We’re quite the pair.”
I’m set upon a chair. He rights the one that fell over and puts my hurt foot on it.
“Stay,” he commands, as if I’m a dog. He turns on another light, reaches under the sink, and pulls out a first-aid kit. He uses tweezers to remove a small shard of glass from the pad of my foot. Then he cleans the wound, wraps my foot in gauze, and sweeps up the broken glass. “Don’t walk in here without shoes until I can run a vacuum.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He crouches down and views his reflection in the stainless-steel four-slice toaster. “I probably shouldn’t be. I’m going to have one hell of a shiner. Where did you learn to defend yourself like that?”
I shrug.
He sits. “We have ourselves a bit of a situation.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
He motions to the ceiling. “I’m curious how you lived here and got by so long without being noticed. Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Your hiding place in the attic.”
“If I show you, you’ll let me go?”
“Yup.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s your house. You can go where you want.”
He inclines his head to the back stairway. “You first.”
I hesitate. I’m weary of men who bark directions at me. Most of them have ulterior motives. What if he gets me up to the attic and rapes me? I look up at him. He doesn’t seem the rapey type, though, and I’ve seen plenty of them. He seems… compassionate. Though it’s funny to think that after he chased me down with a gun.
“I’m not going to hurt you, uh… what’s your name?”
“Does it matter?”
“We’ve known each other for ten minutes. It’s awkward not knowing who I’m talking to.”
“We don’t know each other,” I say aggressively.
“You’re right, we don’t. But even strangers introduce themselves. I’m Aaron Pearce.”
“Devyn.”
“Devyn what?”
“Just Devyn.”
“Well, Devyn Just Devyn, it’s nice to meet you. I’d have preferred we meet under different circumstances, but you have to admit it might be a funny story someday.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
I wave my arm. “Because this is your life, Aaron Pearce. You work in this mansion. On this incredible ranch. You have a place to call home. I’m assuming you have friends here. Maybe you’re even happy. So while this may be funny to you, it’s not from where I stand.”
He sighs, clearly feeling guilty. “You have a point. You wouldn’t be here doing what you’ve been doing if you weren’t down on your luck. So, the attic?”