Page 35 of Lucky's Trouble

The little four-leaf clover he saved as his contact image pops up immediately, followed by three dots.

Need more information

Someone’s watching. It’s not safe

Not a problem. See you tonight

My fingers are shaky as I go to reply, my still-fuzzy brain trying to figure out how I can make this stop.

I don’t want you to get hurt. Please! I’ll figure something else out

Tonight works better for me. Don’t worry. I got this

I gape at the winky face emoji that follows. Does he not understand? Did I not make it clear?

I’m not kidding. Don’t come

I’m not kidding either. Be ready. No one will get hurt. Not anyone important anyway

My heart picks up its pace, pounding so loud there’s a whooshing in my ears. I shouldn’t have called him this morning. It was a bigger mistake than leaving the property with him yesterday. But when I woke up, feeling like I’d been hit by a semi, my emotions got the best of me.

Now it’s too late, and when things go bad, it’ll be all my fault. I’m so fucking stupid.

* * *

If I didn’t have acrylics, I’d be gnawing my nails to the quick right now. Instead, I’m pacing. I have a limp, thanks to my fucked up back, but the anxious energy burning inside me won’t allow me to sit still.

The sun went down an hour ago, and since we never established an exact time for him to come, I’m on pins and needles, anxiously assessing every sound coming from the parking lot. Thankfully, there’s not a lot since most everyone living here work nights.

My bag is packed, though there’s not much I want to take. Definitely not any of my work clothes. I might end up regretting that since my only useful skill is stripping, and I’ll most likely have to fall back on it when I get wherever I’m going, but just the sight of them makes me ill.

I stop my pacing to open the duffle once more, making sure I have everything I’ll need. I riffle through the clothes and toiletries until I pull out the one picture I took from home. Myla and I are dressed in white from head to toe; our hair is wet and practiced smiles are on our faces. Mom and Dad stand behind us, hands on our shoulders and looking proud.

Sitting down on my loveseat, I stare at the photo Mom had framed. We were eight years old, making promises we had no business making. I remember not wanting to do it, throwing a tantrum over the sick feeling I got when the day came. That is until Grandma showed up carrying two beautifully wrapped gifts for us. Once I realized there were presents involved, I followed through with the baptism.

Little did I know, those boxes only contained sets of scriptures with our names engraved on them. I was so pissed.

Three knocks sound on my door, startling me. I was so lost in the memory, I hadn’t been paying attention. Jumping to my feet, I peer out the window and see two large men on my darkened landing. The three distinct knocks sound again. That’s Lucky’s knock. It has to be him.

I throw open the door to find I’m right, and Lucky’s joined by another man with insanely green eyes.

“Get in here before someone sees you.” I grip Lucky by the arm and drag him in, hoping his friend follows. He does, and I close the door after them. “There wasn’t anyone sitting outside of my door?”

“There was.” Lucky’s eyes land on me, and his smile drops. He pinches my chin between his fingers and moves my head left and right, taking in my battered appearance. “This all him?”

“Neal? Yeah.” I stand tall, not wanting him to see how my injuries make me feel.

“That motherfucker.”

“I’m fine.” I push his hand away. “How did you past the guy at my door?”

“He’s taking a nap.” Lucky’s friend cracks his knuckles.

“Who are you, and what does that mean?”

“We’re talking about those bruises when we get to where we’re going.” Lucky pins me with a look. “This is my brother, Rigger. I told you about him.”

Rigger lifts his chin. “It’s nice to meet you and all, but we should get going.”

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