Love Me Reckless (Love Me Dangerous #2)

Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

KIRILEE

My fingers shake as I type in the code. The lock flashes red.

“What’s wrong?” Sheldon asks. He keeps hugging himself like he’s cold.

“Let me try again,” I say, not looking behind me. That strange ashy sweetness mixed with his sweat lingers in the air between us as he crowds me against the safe. If I look at him, I’m going to lose my courage.

I inhale a slow breath and let it out, forcing the correct number sequence to materialize.

Birch made me practice, but that was months ago.

What if he changed the code?

A memory flashes of that afternoon outside Hamilton Elementary. The man in a trim dark suit with gentle blue eyes smiled at me and said my dad had sent him, and did I want to go ride the carousel and eat ice cream while we waited?

Did a part of me know something wasn’t right, but I went anyway? I found out later that the man was a father of two whose wife had cancer. He needed the money for an expensive treatment their insurance didn’t cover .

When Sheldon called to tell me that Sawyer had stolen from me in order to help him, and now they were both in serious trouble, through the confusion, I made a choice. I listened to my heart.

“You could just give me that ring,” Sheldon says again.

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” I say, my mixed-up emotions making my voice sound needy and weak. “I have cash in the safe.”

“Okay, okay,” Sheldon says, sounding bored, but there’s an edge to his voice that’s making it hard to think.

I agreed to give Sheldon my savings on one condition: after his debt was paid, he had to promise to let Sawyer and I help him.

I type in the number sequence again, this time adding a zero I think I forgot. The light flashes green and the heavy lock mechanism clicks. I open the thick safe door. Inside, Birch’s hunting rifles and two antique firearms line the left side, with two types of compartments lining the right—a square safe for cash and five narrow drawers below it for jewelry.

Behind me, Sheldon makes a soft sigh that prickles my neck hairs.

I open the cash safe, and for a moment, I’m stunned. I don’t remember there being so much in here. Most of the stacks of bills are US currency, but there is a fair amount of euros, and bills I don’t recognize, probably from Singapore, which Birch explained once is the most stable Asian currency. There’s also a handgun I don’t remember.

Quickly, I reach for my stack of hundreds bound by a yellow paper band and try to close the compartment, but Sheldon is too quick. “You didn’t tell me there’s more.”

I don’t like the way his eyes have gone glassy.

“Sheldon,” I say, trying to keep his attention. “This is what we came for. We’re going to close the safe now and I’ll take you wherever you want. Just like we agreed. Remember?”

His look turns pleading, and I can almost see the torment going through his thoughts.

In an instant, everything goes wrong. I reach for the safe door, but he’s one step ahead of me, shoving me aside. I stumble, crashing into the cabinet door before landing on my knees. When I look up, Sheldon is pointing the handgun at me.

“Change of plans,” he says, licking his lips, his breaths fast.

I stare at the barrel of the gun, panting. “Put down the gun, Sheldon. Please.”

“I can’t.” His mouth hardens to a look of determination. “Put all the cash in your purse.”

“That’s crazy! Shel?—”

He steps closer and aims the gun at my head, his eyes cold. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

For a moment, I’m frozen. It’s like he’s a different person.

“Put all the cash in your purse,” he repeats, stepping behind me.

My heart pounding, I rock to my feet, but my legs feel like noodles. I grab my purse from the couch and cross to the safe. Sheldon follows my every move with the gun.

I fight my confusion and fear and try to do as he says. I don’t exactly understand what’s going on with Sheldon, but I’m now certain that he lied to me about whatever he’s caught up in. Sawyer didn’t steal from me. Could it all be Sheldon’s doing? I think back to that mysterious visitor this morning at the house—is Sheldon working with someone? Then when things didn’t turn out as planned, Sheldon told me lies about Sawyer so I would feel compelled to help?

It's manipulative and so cruel. How could this be happening?

With shaking fingers, my breaths echoing in the tight space, I gather the cash and put it in my purse. It’s surprisingly heavy.

“What’s in those drawers?” Sheldon asks once the safe is empty.

I pull open the top one, but the velvet is bare—it’s not like I have a lot of expensive jewelry.

“Keep going,” Sheldon says.

The second one is also empty, but the third one holds Birch’s watch collection.

Sheldon whistles. He snatches one of the watches and slides it on. “What about that last one? ”

I open it to the antique coin collection Birch inherited from his grandfather.

“No,” Sheldon says, like he’s having a conversation in his mind. “What else is here?”

I risk a glance, but he’s still pointing the gun at my back. “What do you mean?”

He gives me a shrewd scan. “Where’s your jewelry?”

“I don’t really have any.”

“Let’s have a look around, yeah?”

“Sheldon, please?—”

He grabs me by the arm, jerking me into motion. I cry out. He’s moving fast and I trip over my feet trying to keep up. Sheldon races forward, undeterred, to the bottom of the stairs.

“Is your room up there?”

“No.” I try to catch my breath. “Down the hall. At the back.”

He takes off down the dark hallway, dragging me alongside him so fast I’m practically running. My purse, now heavy and thick, is like an awkward growth at my side, banging into things and slowing me down.

“This art worth anything?” Sheldon asks as we pass an original Cesc Farré of a Spanish seascape.

“No,” I lie.

Thankfully, he believes me. Or maybe he realizes the difficult logistics of carting around a giant piece of artwork. I know with the glass it’s definitely too heavy for one person to carry.

“Here?” Sheldon asks as we round the doorway to the bedroom. My skin jolts. Maybe I’m not ready to see the room I shared with Birch, or maybe I’m scared Sheldon is going to tear it apart looking for what I don’t have.

Our reflection in the glass wall opposite comes into focus an instant before Sheldon flings me to the bed. I stumble forward. My ankle folds and I hear as much as feel a pop followed by hot pain shooting up my shin. I just stop my fall with the edge of the bed, breathing fast .

Sheldon hurries to the dresser and starts yanking open the drawers. I notice he’s put the gun in the back of his waistband. Can I use this to my advantage somehow?

“Where is it?” he barks.

Each slam of the drawers spurs more frustration inside me. “I told you. I don’t have any.” I rub my ankle but it just makes it hurt worse.

Sheldon steps into the closet. For an instant, all I hear are hangars clashing. Then with a muttered curse, he hurries out and crosses to the bathroom, sending me a menacing glare on his way past.

Why won’t he quit?

Inside the bathroom, more drawers slam, then the clattering of cosmetics cases and bottles of nail polish as he rakes through everything. He then moves to my bedside table, yanking the drawer so hard it clatters to the floor.

He’s out of control and I don’t know how to stop it. I need to get him out of the house. Away from what must feel like an irresistible urge to take, take, take. Is this what Sawyer’s had to deal with all these years?

Sheldon’s wild eyes zero in on my ring. He opens his palm. “Hand it over.”

Tears sting my eyes as I slip it free. He tucks it into his pocket, then he nods at the opal pendant hanging from my neck. “That too.”

“No.” I try to scamper away, but he closes his fingers around it, locking me in place.

We stare at each other. The tension from the chain digs into the back of my neck. If he pulls any harder, it’s going to snap. Up close to him like this, I can’t escape the ashy vanilla from his breath or the sickness practically oozing from his pores. “It’s not worth anything.”

“You’re lying.” He goes to yank it, but I grab his fist.

“Sheldon, please! My grandma gave it to me. It’s the only piece of jewelry I care about.” Opals are special . Some even call them lucky, because not only do they show all the colors but the natural processes that create them are so rare. I can’t let him have this. “Don’t you have anything that’s special to you?” I lock eyes with him, but I might as well be looking into an abyss. “That’s beyond its worth in dollar signs?”

He pauses, and for an instant, I think maybe I’ve gotten through to him. But he shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

With a hard tug, the chain pops.

Tears blur my vision as he slips the opal into his pocket.

“I think we’re done here,” Sheldon says, stepping back.

Movement from the doorway catches my eye. I scream.

Sawyer steps into the bedroom. He glances my way, a calm, steady look in his eyes. I try to read the meaning behind it. What is going on?

Keep following your heart, and you’ll get there.

Sawyer is here to help, right?

“No, no way,” Sheldon grits out. “You’re not supposed to be here! You’re not ruining this for me.”

“Think about what you’re doing, Shel.” He sends me another quick glance, as if to reassure me. I see him take in my bulging purse and my bare ring finger. Why didn’t I just give up the ring? Why did I have to bring Sheldon here, thinking I could fix everything?

“You won’t get away with this and you know it,” Sawyer adds.

“No, not true. She gave me the money.” He shoots me a hard glare. “Tell him.”

I swallow the fear crowding into my throat. “I wanted to help him. He promised—” My voice cracks. It all sounds futile now. Foolish.

Sawyer grimaces, like he knows the rest, and refocuses on Sheldon. He takes a step forward, coming almost close enough for me to reach out and touch him. I want to, but I’m too scared to move.

Does Sawyer know about the gun?

“It’s not too late to do the right thing,” Sawyer says. “We’ll put it all back and you and I walk out of here together. We’ll make a plan, okay? ”

“It’s too late for that.” Sheldon’s face twists in a sad grimace. “This is the last time, I swear to you.”

“That’s the addiction talking, little bro.” Sawyer takes another step closer to him. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help.” Panic flashes on Sheldon’s face. He’s breathing fast, his chest heaving. He glances from me to Sawyer, like he can’t make up his mind. Then he reaches behind him, and in one motion, draws the gun and aims it at me.

“No more talking,” he says.

“Get down!” someone yells from the doorway.

Sawyer leaps, wrapping me in his arms as we sail through the air.