Tension tightens my neck and an angry heat rises into my cheeks. I drag my arm across my forehead to push hair out of my eyes.
With my phone in hand, I run to the open doorway. “I have the cops on speed dial,” I say in a loud, no-nonsense voice as I walk outside. I hold up my phone.
It’s Bryce from three doors down and he stands rocking from foot-to-foot like he’s on a high. He’s not. This is typical Bryce with his need to move constantly.
His face is inches from Jordy’s. Gabby stands a few feet away clutching a huge take-out bag to her chest like a shield. Give me a break. She’s wearing a guilty expression, not making eye contact with me. Now is not the time to push my buttons with melodrama, and Gabby knows it.
“What’s the problem?” I ask Bryce.
He gives me a bullish look that turns sheepish. “I was complimenting this fine woman and—”
Gabby’s mouth drops. “He said—”
Jordy drops the bag he holds and steps forward in one swift step. “You wanna apologize before I ram my fist in your mouth?”
Dylan grabs Jordy’s shoulder and pulls him back a couple of steps. “Calm down.”
Jordy doesn’t take his gaze off Bryce. “You know this punk?” he asks.
Bryce tilts his hat bill to the left of his ear. “I ain’t no punk, wuss.” He rubs the tip of his tongue between his lips. The new piercing must be bothering him.
“Bryce. Go home. Can we all go inside before someone else calls the cops?” I know Bryce is going to stand there and watch us.
Bryce looks straight at me and ignores the guys. “You a nark?”
“What are you talking about?” I step closer so every neighbor within a mile radius can’t hear.
“The guys who are watching you.” Bryce moves to meet me and we stand close. “Why were the cops here earlier?”
“Somebody broke in.” I rub my hand over my neck and notice the neighbor lady outside staring up at us. The red tip of her lit cigarette moves back and forth.
“Yeah. I know. It was only one of them.” Bryce says the words low while he glances around casually.
My nerves tingle and my skin tightens. What. The. Hell.
Dylan moves to stand near me. “Let’s go inside.”
I catch his gaze and nod. “Sure.”
We all march into the apartment, silent with foreboding. All except for Bryce, who mumbles something unintelligible while examining the mess.
Jordy clears his throat. “We can eat before this stuff gets cold.” He glares at Bryce like he expects him to leave.
I motion toward the kitchen. “Bryce, eat with us.”
Bryce does a double take at my request. I’ve never asked him to come inside in the past, but there’s never been a need. He pokes the tip of his tongue out, unconsciously working the tongue piercing across his lips.
Gabby moans dramatically. “I was starving hours ago. I’m probably going to pass out any minute... Low blood sugar, you know?” Gabby puts the bags on the table and begins unpacking them. The drama queen then pulls a chair close to hers and pats the seat. “Dylan? Sit by me. I feel a little nervous from all that’s happened. Please?”
Dylan’s gaze meets hers and I get the feeling he is about to say no when he shrugs. “I can. Or maybe you should lie down.”
She pouts, her bottom lip poking out. I draw in a shaky breath. I don’t think I’ve ever been so annoyed with her as I am at this moment. Not as a kid when she had to have a present at my birthday parties. Not even when she dated my ex-boyfriend from junior year of high school—a guy too old for her.
Those memories overlay the present as Dylan sits beside her.
“Bryce,” I say, focusing on him and ignoring the way Gabby smiles at Dylan. “Eat, but tell me what you’re talking about. What do you know?”
Bryce sits on the other side of Gabby. Close. Well, this is interesting.
Not shy in the least, Bryce helps himself to a box of Thai food from the takeout bags. “I noticed the SUV about two weeks ago. It sits on the opposite side of the lot, so it may have been longer. Dark tinted windows. Once I saw two guys in separate vehicles. But the SUV shows up regularly. About three times a day. Not the same time every day. Driver doesn’t get out.”
I sit in the chair on the opposite side of the table and nod. “So?”
Bryce grabs a package of chopsticks. “The guy backs into the spot so it’s pointed this way. At first, I thought he might be watching that dickhead on the third floor. But then today, I see him out of the vehicle for the first time.”
“That still doesn’t mean he has anything to do with us.” I reach for the largest container in the white bag and open it. Fried rice. Gabby grins at me, knowing it’s my favorite. My irritation at her lessens—a little.
Bryce nods. “It does.” He pauses for a moment. “I saw the guy leaving your apartment.”
I’m stunned. “You could’ve started with that part. Bryce, you have to tell the police what you saw. You—”
He’s shaking his head before I can finish. “You think I’m stupid?” He stands, the pad Thai before him untouched.
“Why not?” Dylan leans in. “Did he see you?”
“No. He didn’t see me. But it wouldn’t take long for him to find out who the witness is. People like that guy got connections.” Bryce turns his gaze to me. “I’m telling you because you been nice to me. You respect me. But you tell the cops and we’re done.”
“No one is telling the cops,” I say.
Bryce glances from me to Jordy and Dylan, then back to me. “Not you, but what about these guys?”
“No. They’ll do what I ask.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Now, sit and finish telling me the rest. You saw the guy leaving here.”
“Yeah.” Bryce returns to his seat and picks up the wooden chopsticks and stuffs a large wad of noodles into his mouth. “Looked around to see if anyone noticed,” Bryce says around the food.
“Can you describe him?” Dylan leans in.
Bryce gives a disgusted look. “I’ve been watching him for as many days as he’s been watching Emerson.”
“And?” Dylan asks. “Did either guy have dreadlocks?”
I shoot Dylan an incredulous glare. “You are not even funny.”
“Not trying to be,” he replies.
Bryce shakes his head, totally serious. “Nah, man. No dreads.”
“It wasn’t Toby. I was with him when this happened.” I squint at him like he’s crazy. He doesn’t like Toby; that much is clear to me. It’s as if Dylan implies I’m being stupid by hanging out with Toby.
“I realize that.” Dylan says. “But there were two guys watching your apartment. Who else knew you wouldn’t be here?”
Gabby waves her hand in the air. “Hello.” She waits until everyone is looking at her. “Maybe the guy was hoping I would be home. And he was going to rape me.”
We’re all silent as Gabby picks through the bag and retrieves the takeout soup carton. I draw in some air because I don’t want to lose my temper.
I am a reasonable, logical adult. I am kind even if someone—namely Gabby—acts like she’s got pure fluff filling her brain. I am all the things our mother could never be.