Page 57 of Caesar DeLuca
If he’s so much as plucked a hair out of her scalp, I’ll make him suffer beyond comprehension. I’ll destroy him in a way he’s likely never realized a man could be destroyed. If he’s gone after Ariana, he’s not just a dead man. He’s a man about to be pulverized in every way possible.
I’m not a reckless kind of person. I’m not the type to rush into a situation guns blazing.
Yet, at the thought of Ariana’s possible whereabouts, I’m stalking through the dark shadows of her home about to do bad things. I have a Glock with three rounds and no backup, but it doesn’t even matter.
I’ll do what I have to do.
After heading down the stairs, I turn toward the hall where the garage door is located. I stop in my tracks when I catch the rumbling sounds of a car engine.
Somebody’s home. Ariana’s home!
Shit.
I double back out of the hall, moving stealthily, searching for a place to hide.
The options aren’t ideal. I choose behind the drapes in the den window.
No less than a minute later, the garage door opens and the pads of Ariana’s footsteps sound from down the hall. But she’s not alone—she’s in the middle of a conversation with someone.
“You really didn’t have to.”
“Bev and I don’t mind. We meant it when we said anything you need.”
“I’ll have to pay you for the time and gas you wasted towing my car back.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure to help.”
“Would you like a water bottle for the road, Craig?”
Craig? Who the fuck is Craig?
I scowl to myself from where I’m tucked behind Ariana’s window drapes. I listen to the distant sounds of their voices and footsteps as they move closer to the den. They stop inches outside the open doorway. If I peek out just slightly, I can make out the silhouette of them.
Ariana’s turned on the hall light. She’s standing opposite this Craig though I can’t see much of him.
He sounds older. Maybe sixties to seventies.
“A water for the road sounds good. If you don’t mind, I’d like to use your bathroom.”
“Sure, it’s the first door down the hall. I’ll grab your water.”
The two go in opposite directions. Ariana heads for the kitchen. Craig waits half a second longer, then turns toward the staircase. I wait a few seconds longer than that, my pulse pounding in my ears, and then I make my most reckless decision yet.
I come out from behind the drapes and quickly follow him.
As he reaches the top stair, I’m creeping up the bottom. I’m on high alert, my senses hyperactive and in overdrive, aware of the subtlest things. The room temperature, the wattage of the hallway light, the rustling noises from the kitchen as Ariana digs out a water bottle.
Craig wanders over to the guest bathroom in the hall before he pauses a second time and then continues to the door across the way.
Ariana’s bedroom.
Red-hot fury flows through my veins like molten metal. I curl my hands into fists and rush the rest of the way up the stairs, still moving like a ghost, soundless and unseen.
Craig cracks her bedroom door open and pokes his head inside as if debating whether he should take a chance.
“Craig!” Ariana calls from downstairs.
He’s halfway past the threshold when she does, making him jump and bump his elbow on the doorjamb.
