Page 21 of Rub

None of that matters though.

My door is open. Wide open. As if someone kicked it in.

Ice runs through my veins.

I stagger through it into my tiny living room. “Kaami?” I gasp, bending over and planting my hands on my shaking knees. Okay, I seriously need to work on my cardio. “Kaam?—”

Japher steps out of my kitchen with a snide smirk on his face and a distinct purple glass jar in his hands.

The ice in my veins turns colder. Oh no. This is not good. This is not good at all.

“Hey.” I shove my hands on my hips and glare at him, trying to act indignant rather than terrified. The last thing I want Elon Japher to do is think Kaami’s jar is valuable.

Don’t be stupid, Al. He already knows. Out of everything in your home, that’s what he’s holding. It’s why he’s here.

Shit. What do I do? And where the hell is Kaami?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, still trying to stay as calm as I can.

Japher studies me for a long second, and then he returns his attention to the jar and caresses it with one fingertip. “This was meant to be delivered to me,” he says.

No. No, no, no. I flick a quick and frantic glance around my living room. Where’s Kaami? Surely not back in the jar? He wouldn’t go in there voluntarily, right? Not after calling it a prison? Unless it was the only place he felt safe when I left with Jackson? Or when Japher kicked his way in?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What do I do? I have to protect Kaami. I have to.

“Why on earth do you think it’s yours?” I put as much disdain in the question as I can, given how freaked out I am. Maybe if I can get to my knife block…

Japher’s top lip curls. “I paid for it, quite a lot of money, in fact. I had to fire my last qualified pastry chef and employ a nobody like you to hide the expense, so I’m curious where you got it?” He traces the intricate pattern of the lid with his finger, his focus still locked on me. “Did you steal it? Are you a thief as well as a liar?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl.

He laughs, and my skin crawls at the cold, smug sound.

“Get the fuck out.” I toss my head towards my door. “Before I call the cops.”

He laughs again and walks towards me. I take a step back before I can stop myself. He was always a creep at work, butnow… Now he’s a scary creep. A scary creep in my home. And he’s holding Kaami’s jar.

Where the hellisKaami? I hope he’s okay. Safe and far, far away from whatever the fuck Japher is planning.

Maybe he just thinks the jar is a collector’s item? Maybe he doesn’t know anything about?—

“The djinn is mine,” Japher states.

Well, fuck. Seriously, fuck.

He steps closer to me, pressing his palm to the side of the jar. “Ready?”

I throw myself at him.

I’ve never crash-tackled anyone before, and the second I slam into Japher’s body, I know I’ve done a shit job of it. My shoulder screams out in pain as it smacks into Japher’s chest, and my spine bends in a bow not even a yogi could accomplish. It’s like ramming into a freaking steel bar covered in squishy stinky mush. Does the creep not know what deodorant is? My arms flail around his torso, and my feet slip and slide on the floor as my woeful momentum and Japher’s refusal to budge rob them of any traction. How is he this strong? Or am I really that weak?

Laughing, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back.

Holy shit, my neck!

I cry out, and he shoves his face down to mine. His breath is hot and sour. “And just so you know,Al, my first wish will be to make you my subservient, submissive bitch to use any way I?—”

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