Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Stella

Lexie, Selma and I spend 20 minutes planning things out, then jog causally down alleys as we head back to our neighborhood. The neighbors are used to seeing us running, and anyone looking will just wave as we go by.

Fifteen minutes later, we reach Lachlan’s back fence. It’s high, six feet, I guess because I have to stand on my tiptoes to see over it. It needs a serious coat of paint and a couple of boards replaced, but it’s perfect for privacy.

Selma keeps watch while Lexie gives me a boost so I can reach over the top of the gate and unlatch it. My feet solidly back on the ground, I push it open, and we all step into the back yead.

“Jesus,” Selma says under her breath as we survey the tall weeds and various pieces of rusting junk scattered around the yard. There are at least five buckets, a wheelbarrow and a tin shed with a missing roof. The workshop seems relatively intact, but we’d need a machete to cut down the thistles to get to it. The sagging deck has gaps where boards use to be and the remaining ones look rotten. The swing set is out of a horror film. Rusted, the legs are leaning like four girls on a stagette. One seat is missing, the other barely attached.

“How’s he gonna bring his daughter here? It’s a nightmare,” Lexie says.

I get defensive on Lachlan’s behalf. “He’s only been here a few weeks according to mom’s spy report, so maybe he hasn’t gotten around to it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t get how hazardous this would be for a six-year-old,” Selma mutters. “There’s gonna be home visits before anyone signs off on custody.”

God. Sometimes she can be so superior. “He’s not stupid!” Of course, I can’t know for sure, but the little time I’ve spent with him suggests he’s got decent grey matter.

Selma dismisses me. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not why we’re here. Let’s get this done and go.”

Hands on hips and looking around, Lexie channel’s Nice Guy Eddie from Reservation Dogs. “‘Alright, first things fuckin’ last.’”

Selma wrinkles her nose. “Is that Tarantino again? I hate his stuff.” She would of course.

“You clearly don’t understand his genius,” Lexie retorts.

“Focus. Okay?” I say to both. “Let’s try the deck door first, then if it’s locked, the window.”

No one follows me as I pick my way carefully through the rubbish towards the deck.

“We’ll break a leg if a board breaks under us,” Selma says.

“Or step on a nail and get rust poisoning,” Lexie adds.

“Lead,” Selma corrects. “If we don’t trip over the shit that’s in the way.”

They’re right. The window has a clearer pathway. It’s small and high, but I’m sure we can all get through it. “Okay, window then.”

“If it’s unlocked,” Selma replies.

I huff. “If Tom Cruise was as negative as you in Mission Impossible, the world would have blown up by now.”

Selma huffs back. “Tom Cruise should be in an old folk’s home, not chasing after villains on the top of trains.”

“And you know what else I don’t get,” Lexie adds. “Is that all the times the IMF disavows him and he still does the dangerous stuff. I’d tell them all to get stuffed and go buy an island in the middle of the Caribbean.”

“Tom Cruise is not like that,” I say. “What’s the point of living on an island if the nuclear fallout kills you?”

We stare at each other for a moment, then Lexie says, “We should get back to it, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah.” I head towards the window. It’s about five feet off the ground. “Unlocked!” I exclaim, pushing the window up and propping it with my hand. “Selma goes first.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the smallest, so we’ll boost you up and you can crawl through and prop the window open from the inside. I’ll help Lexie through, and then she can pull me in.”

Selma grins. “Finally, she speaks sense.”

I give a short bow as Lexie hoists Selma through the window. Then, according to plan, once Lexie’s in, she grabs my arms and drags me through the window.

“We would make a dope band of burglars,” she says as she dusts her hands on her pants.

“Sure we would,” Selma scoffs.

It’s not nearly as bad on the inside as it is in the backyard.

“Could use a good clean and a paint job,” Lexie says. “But it’s livable.”

We step into the kitchen. “He’s got new appliances,” Selma murmurs.

“See,” I say, proud of Lachlan for some reason. “He’s fixing things up.”

“No dishwasher yet,” Lexie points out.

We search the kitchen for signs of house keys, but there aren’t any.

“Guess we’re gonna have to go deeper,” Lexie says. “How we gonna do this?”

I want to go upstairs and see Lachlan’s bedroom, so I say, “Lexie you take the basement because Selma is afraid of them. Selma, you take this level and I’ll go upstairs.”

I don’t wait for replies because no one but me is going upstairs.

There’s a bathroom at the top of the landing and when I glance in, I see Lachlan’s keys, wallet, and phone on the vanity.

I suffer a moment of guilt realizing I’ve pretty much left him destitute. But the remorse is trumped by the disappointed that I’ve found the keys too fast.

So what, Stella? Grab them after you look around. Who’s gonna know?

No one, that’s who.

There are three bedrooms: two on the left side of the hall and one on the right next to the bathroom. I peek into the smaller two rooms. They’re both unfurnished, though one has some packages in it. Gabby’s room I guess.

My stomach coils as I step into Lachlan’s bedroom. It hasn’t got much in the way of personal touches, but everything is new. The bed is freaking huge, but then again so is Lachlan. It’s unmade and I suppress a shiver because so is mine at home. We have stuff in common.

I’m fixated on it, thinking about me and him in it. Not just the sex stuff, but together, spooning, cuddling. Talking. I close my eyes. Yeah. I gotta fix this somehow. Make him like me again.

There’s a high set of drawers and matching bedside tables. Dark wood, very masculine and the open closet has a few things in it, but not much. Even though my fingers are itching to go through his stuff, I tell myself no. I’ve done enough to him today. I don’t need to snoop behind his back.

Or in front of it, Stella.

I’m about to leave the bedroom when I hear a vehicle. Sounds close, like right outside, so I sneak a peek through the bedroom window to see Lachlan on the pavement, leaning into the driver’s window talking to someone.

“He’s here!” I shout as I run to the bathroom and gather up his keys, wallet, and phone. “Get out! Get out!”

“Shit,” Selma says as her footsteps thunder towards the open window. As I run down the stairs, I see Lexie streak to the window and dive through. I hit the bottom step at the same time the front door crashes open. The boom makes me lose my footing, and I go sprawling. Keys, wallet, and phone spill out of my hands.

Lachlan steps inside, then stops, his jaw dropping when he sees me. “What the fuck?”

“I can explain,” I say quickly. I scramble to my knees and gather his stuff up.

“You don’t have to,” he says in a flat voice. “You’re fuckin’ robbing me.”

I get to my feet, thinking I could throw everything at him which would distract him long enough for me to go out the window. I give it a shot and wing his cellphone at him, drop the wallet, and tangle the keys in my fingers. Oh well, no great plan ever goes smoothly. I swing around and run like hell toward the window.

“Fuck,” he grunts as he races after me.

You can make it, Stella. You can?—

Not.

He bands his hand around my left bicep, swings me around and shoves me against the wall.

“Talk,” he says in a dead tone.

The words spill out quickly. “I was trying to help.”

“By robbing me.”

He clutches both arms and pushes me harder into the wall. It should scare me, but I find myself getting turned on. I feel like stretching up and kissing him on the mouth.

Maybe you should, Stella. That might disarm the situation.

Or maybe he’d take it as an invitation and….

“No,” I tell him, pretending to be afraid, not turned on.

You should cry, Stella.

I blink my eyes. Dry.

“Talk,” he says.

“I locked you out and I was just trying to get your keys so I could let you back in.”

“So why were you carrying my phone and wallet?”

“Because maybe I could find a phone number and call you.” I realize the flaw as soon as I say it and curse Lexie and Selma for not pointing it out.

Lachlan sees it too. “By calling my cell.”

“Uh. Yeah. Stupid I guess.”

“No shit.” He lets me go and steps back. “I should call the cops on you.”

Knowing full well I’m a hypocrite, I say, “Don’t call the cops, please. I can’t be arrested or it’ll mess with my career.”

He sighs. “I’m not gonna call the fuckin’ cops.”

He heads towards the living room and picks up his keys, which I dropped while in flight, then phone and wallet. I follow him.

“Lachlan, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to try to make it up to you.” I turn my head, registering for the first time how he got in. “Did you kick in the door?”

He follows my line of sight. “Well, at the time I didn’t realize you were inside stealing my keys, so yeah, I kicked it in.”

“God.” I drop heavily down on the couch, covering my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” I look up. “I’ll pay for a new door.”

I half expect him to kick me out and tell me he never wants to see me again, so I’m surprised when he sinks onto the couch next to me.

“Probably gonna need to fix the door frame too.”