Page 18 of Renegade Rift
I tip my head back and look up at the stairwell leading to my fourth-floor apartment.What I wouldn’t give for a long, hot bubble bath followed by an hour-long massage.
No part of my plan has gone as I intended. The cleaning was a disaster. The guy was a new client and assumed my job would conclude with a happy ending. It didn’t matter that the website, as well as our staff who booked the appointment, reiterated that wouldn’t be the case. He cornered me in the bathroom, and for the first time, I had to use my panic button. Isaac got me out in record time, and I’m fairly certain the client walked away with a broken nose.
Needless to say, even though I still got paid, I didn’t make an additional tip. Which I really needed.
Then the Legends hockey game got canceled due to a threat at the arena, so all the regulars I was counting on to come watch the hockey game didn’t show up. Instead of filling beers and pretending to be interested in the hockey glory days they love to reminisce about, I spent evening scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees.
My blisters have blisters, and with all the stress of the last week, my body has turned against me, deciding that swollen joints covered in tiny little hives were just what I needed to complete the day from absolute hell.
Oh, the joys of having an autoimmune disease.
Of course, it never chooses the opportune moment to show its ugly face and couldn’t possibly pick body parts to attack that I have no use for. But no. My hands look like they belong to the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and my knees are the size of grapefruits, sending bolts of lightning through my legs with every step.
Somehow, I muster the strength to limp my way up the stairs.
I’m on the third-floor landing when the stairwell echoes with the sound of someone banging on a door.
“Etta, open up.”
My heart sinks.
I thought I’d have at least one more day to get the money together before they showed up. Even after my fifteen-hour day, I’m still three hundred short of what I owe for this payment.
Freaking Ford.
Ultimately, I know it wasn’t his fault, but if it hadn’t been his apartment, I wouldn’t have missed out on what was supposed to be my most lucrative cleaning of the month. I wouldn’t be in this situation.
It takes every ounce of willpower to force myself to climb the last set of stairs to my apartment. Running isn’t an option. They’d find me. Saul has had no issues keeping tabs on my whereabouts.
Rounding the corner, I let out a sigh of relief when I see it’s Earl standing at my door.
“I’m here.” I huff, my hands screaming at me as I pull my keys from my cross-body bag and an envelope bulging with every dollar I’ve earned in the last month. So much for stocking my fridge.
“You’re late.” Earl glowers, the scar across his cheek adding an extra oomph of menace to his gaze.
He’s not a huge guy. Maybe five-eleven, but he’s got a few inches and at least a hundred pounds on me. Not to mention he’s got that rough look to him that screams he’s followed through on more than a few of his threats.
I take a step forward, spine straight, so not to let on how scared I am. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
Earl’s jaw ticks. “I told you last week I’d be here tonight.”
“Is there any way you could come back tomorrow?”
“Fuck, Etta, please tell me you have it.” There’s a hint of concern laced in his frustration, but I don’t mistake it for him actually caring. He might be the nicest of the three goons that frequently come to collect, but he’s not above issuing threats or following through.
“Most of it.” I smile, though it’s less sweet and more pathetic if the way Earl shakes his head is any indication. “A cleaning fell through. I just need a few more days.”
“Saul already gave you an extension,” he growls, and a little bit of spit trails down his chin.
I shove my hand out, offering him what I have. “Tell him this is what I have, and after tomorrow, I’ll have the rest.”
His fingers wrap around the envelope, and he steps back, fingering through the cash.
It gives me the opportunity to slipby him andget my key in the doorknob. I just need to get inside. I’ll be safe there. I’ve barely got the lock flipped when I realize my mistake.
Earl steps forward, his hot breath fanning my neck.
“You know what’s going to happen if I show up empty handed.”
