Page 12 of Bound in Promise
“How soon?”
“Ten minutes. You?”
I glance quickly at my phone and I can’t help the frustrated snarl when I see my expected arrival time is still hours away. To be fair to the navigation app, nothing short of teleportation would satisfy me at this point.
“That soon?” Enzo asks, voice dry. My friend knows me too well. “Should I tell my man to engage?”
“No,” I snarl. “No, the bastard is mine.”
“Tracking only. Got it. Good hunting.” The call drops and the music comes roaring back.
But I’m still stuck on that last familiar phrase, my nostrils flaring.
Been so long.
There are some things you don’t forget.
Anticipation is a hum in my blood, and I twist and crack my neck.
You can run, Liam. But you can’t hide.
6
VICTORIA
I have no idea what time it is, but I’m guessing it hasn’t been more than a couple hours. To be honest, my head is pounding and it feels like my brain is made of jelly. It made it hard to do anything but follow Liam’s directions as he pushed and shoved at me to get back in the car.
The drive was short, ending in a rundown residential neighborhood. He pulled into a narrow driveway next to a house with cracked white siding and a lawn filled with foot-tall weeds. The place looked like it had been abandoned for months. The outside needs a heap of work, but the inside is worse.
When Liam knocked on the door, the guy who answered greeted my ex like an old friend. They bro-hugged it out, and we were invited inside, but not before the guy gave me a long once-over that set off every one of my alarm bells.
The place smells like garbage and rotten food. It would take a whole crew to clean up the crushed beer cans, empty liquor bottles, randomly thrown pieces of clothing, and stained walls.
But that’s the least of my problems.
Liam is holding me in his lap like his personal bitch while his friend watches me. I mean, I know my face is swollen from the beating I took earlier, even if the color may not be obvious yet. But he’s not looking at me with sympathy or concern, no he’s eyeing me like I’m his next meal. The dude is creepy beyond words. He has his long blond hair pulled up in a messy bun, with faded brown eyes in a pasty, hungry face. The tattered black jeans and oversized white tee shirt do nothing to normalize his freakish look. He has a silver barbel through one eyebrow, which only highlights his eerily light eyes.
I can’t believe Liam hasn’t said anything about this dude staring at me non-stop. Especially considering his emo serial killer aura.
“I gotta take this,” Liam says when his phone rings, nudging my leg. I rise and allow him to stand. “You got that doctor comin’?”
“Yeah, man,” Emo Dude drawls. “How’d you get shot again?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms as my ex glares at our host.
“I told you, dude,” Liam grumbles. “Drug deal gone wrong.”
His buddy looks skeptical, raising his pierced brow. “At a private school?”
Liam scoffs as the ghost of a smile pulls at my lips. Sounds unbelievable, right? “You think I could get good shit at a place like that? Nah, man, I get my shit in the hood.”
Hood?
Never thought I’d hear Liam say that word. It’d be a pretty safe bet that he’s never even been within a ten-mile radius of what would be considered the “rough” side of town. I had to push and prod him to just go to a diner with me when we first started dating. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever been to a place like this…flop house…before.
“Right,” his buddy replies flatly. He doesn’t sound totally convinced, but it’s clear he can’t think of another story to explain Liam’s wound. “Well, the guy’s comin’ with his kit.”
“What do you mean guy?” Liam sneers, ungrateful to the extreme. “I said doctor.”
