Page 18 of Demon
Richard takes a few steps back and looks as me with pleading eyes as if to ask me to help him out.Typical.
Jett grabs a handle from his waistband.Is that a knife?I grab his arm, making him flinch ever so slightly.
“This is Richard,” I say to Jett. “Sammy’s sperm donor.” He doesn’t deserve the title father.
I let out a sigh, thankfully Sammy isn’t here to see this. “I used to wake up every morning hoping you’d do the right thing...” I stare at Richard. “To stop gambling and be the father Sammy deserves. It’s clear that’s never going to happen. Don’t come back. I want nothing to do with you.” I spit venom, and I mean every word.
Richard’s eyes dart between Jett and me. He doesn’t answer, runs away like the coward he is toward his beaten-up car.
Jett turns and steps in his direction, but I pull on his arm. “Don’t worry about him.”
His head whips to me. “I want to make sure he doesn’t return.” His voice lowers to a deadly tone.
It startles me. I sense Jett wants to do more than just chat with Richard. “Richard gambles. It sounds like the people who he owes money to are going to hurt him if he doesn’t pay them, which is a high probability. So,please. Let it be.”
He pulls out of my grip. “Go stay where Sammy is for an hour. I’ll go get security cameras for the inside and outside of your house and a deadbolt for your door. I’ll put them in today.”
He remembers her name. “No really. There’s no need.” But it feels good to have someone in my corner.
There’s no response. He strides to his bike, gets on, and speeds away.
* * *
I’m at Sandra’s,and it’s been over an hour. Jett’s being overly cautious. I get it. He’s in a motorcycle club—protecting others is probably second nature for him. But I’ve got nothing for Richard. I’ve ended it, and I refuse to let him burden Sammy and me any longer. His gambling has nothing to do with me.
“Is everything okay?” Sandra asks quietly while Sammy is building a castle with blocks.
I frown. “Is it okay if Sammy stays here tonight? I’m so sorry to put this on you last minute,” I say in a rush of words. I lean in closer to her and whisper, “Sammy’s father”—I cringe at the wordfatherbut need her to understand—“unexpectantly turned up today at the house asking for money I don’t have. He has a gambling problem, and I’d just like to make sure he’s not going to come back tonight.”
She places her hand on my arm. “Of course,” she says. “Are you going back over there?”
“Yes. My friend is coming over to put security cameras up and a stronger lock on the door. Richard wouldn’t hurt us. My friend wants us safe.”
She gives me a small smile. “That’s a good friend you have.”
There’s a fluttering sensation in my chest and stomach. “Yes, he is.” It feels good to have someone care about us.
I stand and go over to Sammy. “You’re having a sleepover with Sandra tonight. I’ll go get your clothes and get you some popcorn so you can watch a movie together.”
She grins. “Movie night? Yes! When are you picking me up?”
When I make sure it’s safe. “Tomorrow.” I stand to leave. “I’ll be right back with your clothes.” I walk to the door and peer over my shoulder at Sandra. “Thank you so much for this.”
I step outside and cross the road. I open the door to my home, go inside, put my bag down, and dash to Sammy’s room. I pull her bag out of the wardrobe and shove in pajamas and clothes for tomorrow. In the bathroom, I pack her toothbrush and hairbrush.
A loud bang makes me jump. It was the front door flying open, hitting the wall. My heart punches my rib cage. I hear footsteps and I freeze. Someone’s here. Richard wouldn’t knock a door down, and neither would Jett.
“I know you’re in here,” a deep male voice says, and chills tear through me.
“Give us the money and we’ll leave. No one has to get hurt,” another male voice says.
Richard told them I have money.My hand trembles. I must get out of here before they find me. I put the bag on the bed and listen. They sound like they’re in my bedroom at the front of the house. My bag is on the kitchen counter. I just have to make it there, grab my bag, and slip out the back door.
I peek around the wall and search the hallway. They aren’t there yet. Keeping as quiet as I can, I rush out and to my bag, grasp it, then rush to the back sliding door. My hands still shake as my body vibrates with fear. As I unlock and slide it open, heavy footsteps rushing toward me make my body go stiff as stone. Then there’s a searing pain in my scalp and I’m being yanked back by my hair. I scream in pain and stumble.
“Bitch, where’s the money?” one man spits. I nearly heave at the smell of his breath.
The other comes into sight. He’s over six feet of muscle, with a tribal tattoo on the side of his face and wearing a tight black T-shirt. “Tell us where it is, and we’ll leave.”
