Page 19 of Used

Despite it being only noon, the task relaxes me enough that soon I’m drifting off to a deep, though restless, sleep.

When I wake up to the sound of banging, my bedroom is dark.

“The hell?” I mumble, dragging myself out of the comfort of my king-size bed.

Reaching under the bed, I pull out the gun safe, which I keep there, and press in the code. I pull out the small piece I keep there and check the empty barrel before clicking the magazine into place.

Maybe it’s excessive, but it’s not just me I’m protecting anymore.

So, I click off the safety and swipe the slide back to load the chamber.

When I open the bedroom door as quietly as I possibly can, I don’t expect all the lights to be on.

Keeping close to the wall with my gun at the ready, like I was taught in my gun safety training, I make my way down the hall but halt when I spot the front door wide open only a few feet away.

No one should be able to get up here without the front desk giving them access. I’ve given them a strict list of people who are allowed free access to the penthouse elevator, and I wasn’t expecting anyone today.

When I reach the end of the hall, I stop and take a deep breath, readying myself for whatever is around the corner.

As I turn the corner, I raise my gun and sweep the room quickly, looking for the intruder.

Only, instead of a burglar, I find Marshall surrounded by bags and boxes, looking delicious in a tight-fitting t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and his signature work boots.

His dark hair is messy around his face, highlighting the tight line of his jaw, covered in stubble. His brown eyes are alight with mirth at this whole bizarre situation.

“The hell?” I gasp, looking up at him.

“Oh, good!” Marshall says, turning in my direction. “You’re up!”

Quickly, I lower my gun and release the bullet from its chamber before flicking the safety back on.

“The actual fuck, Marshall?” I shout. “I could have killed you!”

“Well, thank you for not doing that.” He says, still smiling. “Now that you’re here. Where should I put my stuff?”

“Your what?” I ask, bewildered. “What are you even doing here, Marshall?”

He steps around one of the boxes and takes a few strides to me, gently taking the gun out of my hand and setting it down on a nearby side table.

“Okay, that’s better.” He says with a smirk. “I knew you were a Texas girl, but I didn’t realize you owned a gun.”

“Guns. With an S. I hunt too during the seasons.” I correct before shaking my head. “Stop changing the subject. Why are you here?”

He looks around at the bags and boxes that are around the room as though they answer my question, but I refuse to believe my eyes.

“I’m moving in.” He says simply.

“The hell you are.” I snarl. “I did not invite you into my home, Marshall. Get the fuck out.”

He takes a step toward me, but I’ve already snatched the gun off the side table and started my march back to my bedroom before he can reach me.

“Elsie.” He calls after me. “Come on. At least talk to me about this?”

I turn back to him. “Fuck no. Now get your shit out of my house.”

“I tried calling!” He shouts down the hall.

“Don’t care!” I shout back. “Get out!”

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