busybody aunts and impatient Americans. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I briefly made sure the robe covered me properly.
Aiden wasn’t there when I opened the door, but my aunt’s car was. The driver’s side door was wide open. Coming from the interior was the annoying dinging sound that announced the keys had been left in the ignition.
Crossing the porch, I made it to the steps when Aiden flew around the front of the house as a chunk of wood from the railing exploded exactly where his head had been. He dove, rolled, and then shot off the ground, half running on both hands and feet.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded as he slid to a stop beside the car on the driver’s side, keeping to a crouch.
“Get in the house,” he yelled, ducking at the sound of another shot being fired. The passenger window shattered, sending a glittery explosion of glass inside the car. Aiden cursed under his breath. In one swift move, he pulled a gun from somewhere under his shirt, lifted it, took aim at where the window had been, fired, and ducked back down.
Alarm shot through me. A squeak escaped before I could think of covering my mouth to stop it. I couldn’t move, making an excellent target for whoever was firing shots in our direction.
“Airen, get in the fucking house!” Aiden bellowed at me as another round was fired.
The anger in his voice made my feet twitch on the step. I tried. I really tried to move, but my body didn’t want to listen to what my brain was screaming at me to do.
White dots danced in front of me, and my lungs couldn’t hold enough air. It was then my body went into motion, allowing my feet to propel me to safety.
I had no idea where the gunman was firing from. Somehow, Aiden did, or at least, I thought he did, because he lifted the gun again, slightly altering the direction of the barrel, and fired another round.
I sank to my knees inside the open door, right at the threshold, and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering as I clutched my fingers against the terrycloth robe.
My eyes locked on Aiden’s crouched body. His only protection was Aunt Brenda’s car.
His head whipped around with eyes zeroing in on mine as we both heard the sound of a police car siren off in the distance. The gun disappeared back into wherever he’d pulled it from, and then he reached inside the car, grabbing the keys from the ignition.
He was up the stairs and inside the house before I could blink. Scooping me off the floor, he kicked the door shut, turned the lock, and took the stairs two at time. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths as he lowered me to the floor.
As I sat in the hallway with my back to the wall, he said, “Stay here,” and ran back down the stairs.
Something like a laugh rushed up my throat. All I could think was, Where the bloody hell would I go with my legs feeling something similar to Jell-O left out in the sun on a hot day?
The worst part was that it wasn’t funny. Not one bit. Not only had someone shot at Aiden, but Aiden had shot back. Aiden had a gun.
A gun I’d just watched him fire with the ease of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Why then, did I not want to make a run for it? I knew nothing about him.
Fear skittered down my spine. I should be terrified of Aiden and running to the phone in Aunt Brenda’s room to call the authorities. Bracing my hands against the floor to push myself up, I could hear the soft shift of Aiden moving around below. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit that he made his movements known, or he wasn’t worried about making noise.
The hushed tread of his shoes hit the third step with a squeak as he came back up the stairs, and then I could see the top of his head, followed by the rest of him.
What I hadn’t expected was for him to sit down beside me on the floor. Did someone with evil intentions act like they were your friend? Was Aiden just pretending to be a good person?
Chewing my lip, I pondered that thought.
Aiden wasn’t there when I opened the door, but my aunt’s car was. The driver’s side door was wide open. Coming from the interior was the annoying dinging sound that announced the keys had been left in the ignition.
Crossing the porch, I made it to the steps when Aiden flew around the front of the house as a chunk of wood from the railing exploded exactly where his head had been. He dove, rolled, and then shot off the ground, half running on both hands and feet.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded as he slid to a stop beside the car on the driver’s side, keeping to a crouch.
“Get in the house,” he yelled, ducking at the sound of another shot being fired. The passenger window shattered, sending a glittery explosion of glass inside the car. Aiden cursed under his breath. In one swift move, he pulled a gun from somewhere under his shirt, lifted it, took aim at where the window had been, fired, and ducked back down.
Alarm shot through me. A squeak escaped before I could think of covering my mouth to stop it. I couldn’t move, making an excellent target for whoever was firing shots in our direction.
“Airen, get in the fucking house!” Aiden bellowed at me as another round was fired.
The anger in his voice made my feet twitch on the step. I tried. I really tried to move, but my body didn’t want to listen to what my brain was screaming at me to do.
White dots danced in front of me, and my lungs couldn’t hold enough air. It was then my body went into motion, allowing my feet to propel me to safety.
I had no idea where the gunman was firing from. Somehow, Aiden did, or at least, I thought he did, because he lifted the gun again, slightly altering the direction of the barrel, and fired another round.
I sank to my knees inside the open door, right at the threshold, and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering as I clutched my fingers against the terrycloth robe.
My eyes locked on Aiden’s crouched body. His only protection was Aunt Brenda’s car.
His head whipped around with eyes zeroing in on mine as we both heard the sound of a police car siren off in the distance. The gun disappeared back into wherever he’d pulled it from, and then he reached inside the car, grabbing the keys from the ignition.
He was up the stairs and inside the house before I could blink. Scooping me off the floor, he kicked the door shut, turned the lock, and took the stairs two at time. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths as he lowered me to the floor.
As I sat in the hallway with my back to the wall, he said, “Stay here,” and ran back down the stairs.
Something like a laugh rushed up my throat. All I could think was, Where the bloody hell would I go with my legs feeling something similar to Jell-O left out in the sun on a hot day?
The worst part was that it wasn’t funny. Not one bit. Not only had someone shot at Aiden, but Aiden had shot back. Aiden had a gun.
A gun I’d just watched him fire with the ease of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Why then, did I not want to make a run for it? I knew nothing about him.
Fear skittered down my spine. I should be terrified of Aiden and running to the phone in Aunt Brenda’s room to call the authorities. Bracing my hands against the floor to push myself up, I could hear the soft shift of Aiden moving around below. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit that he made his movements known, or he wasn’t worried about making noise.
The hushed tread of his shoes hit the third step with a squeak as he came back up the stairs, and then I could see the top of his head, followed by the rest of him.
What I hadn’t expected was for him to sit down beside me on the floor. Did someone with evil intentions act like they were your friend? Was Aiden just pretending to be a good person?
Chewing my lip, I pondered that thought.
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