Page 9 of Last Breath

Shouldering it and twisting the lock, the heavy wood door protests as I peel it back.

Looking through the torn screen, I’m stunned. Yeah, I knew the person shoving their way through the thick shrubbery wouldn’t be a local, but I also didn’t expect the likes of him. With thick, wavy brown hair, and green eyes that stand out like the sweet peas in my garden, I’m blown away. I don’t think he’s more than a few years older than me, but it’s hard to tell through all the dirt on his face. With an extra wide grin, showcasing his straight teeth, the stranger smiles. The grin is dangerous, predatory, and pretty. The grin is something special.

Inspecting him, I take in the dirt, a great deal of it a dark red, almost black. It reminds me of when the boys on football teams smear black under their eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

Wiping his face on the back of his hand and smearing a bit of the grime covering his cheeks, he winks. “You’re a peach, aren’t you?”

Embarrassed by his obvious flirting, feeling a heat rise in my face, I open my mouth to speak—

“Sweetie!” Gran calls out before I can say a word.

“Inappropriate timing, Gran,” I mumble, staring down the intruder.

Looking past me, his eyes dart toward Marjory. With what I’d call intrigue, his expression changes. “You’re not alone?” Pulling the handle for the screen, he attempts to open it, but I hold it, doing my damnedest to keep him out. Smiling wide, he says, “Pity. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

Confused as to why he’s upset that I’m not alone, I yank from my side, attempting to halt his entrance. “What can I do to help you?”

With another urgent and impatient “Sweetie,”I notice her interruption interests him. His eyes shine and his smile kicks up a notch.

Not taking my gaze from his, I call out, “Gran, I’m just talking to someone at the door. I’ll get your dinner in a moment.”

Reaching through the broken screen, smirking that same smile, he places his hand on mine. “I was tired. Just looking for a place to sleep, but this is a nice surprise.” Pulling the door open with very little effort, he steps in. Commanding the air between us, he’s taller than I am, wide like a football player, and his presence asks for attention.

Trying to convey strength in my voice, I raise to my full height and square off. “I don’t know who you are or why you think you can just wander in, but I’d like you to leave.”

“Are you trying to act tough?” Smirking, he steps closer. Backing up, I’m coming dangerously close to boxing myself in against the wall and the door for the basement. Our guns aren’t close, and my favorite baseball bat is kept at the back door. Placing a hand on his dirty chest, his electric gaze holds me in place and I pull away.

“I’d like you to leave.” Sounding weaker than I had before, I inspect the grime on my hand and his attire, which in the light of the hall, the dirt is easier to distinguish. It’s not dirt at all.

It’s red.

It’s blood.

“Are you sure you want me to go? We could have so much fun.” Coming closer than I’m comfortable with, his tone is really creepy, giving off a stalkerish vibe. “Are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t like you.” I’m hoping that he’ll leave without a fight.

Oddly enough, I’m not fearful of this man with his face slathered in blood, but I think it’s unusual he enters as he pleases. And why am I not more afraid of his audacity? Maybe because his idea of fun sounds interesting.

Smirking, reaching out and playing with strands of my hair, he winks. “I think you need some fun. You know, the reason I stopped by was that I was pretty tired and looking for a place to lay my head. You’ve given me a second wind. Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

Thinking that any kind of fun would be good, I’m more intrigued than scared of his intentions. Dark, thick, and dangerous, they flow around him like smoke.

Closing the distance between us, I’m close enough that I can smell the excitement rolling off of him. “What’s your name?”

“Joy.”

Raising that smile up a dangerous notch, he says, “This’ll be fun, Joy.”

Chapter 7

Joy

“Sweetie?” Gran’s tone vibrates with worry.

Looking at the man that entered uninvited, I try my best to seem at ease. Piping up before the situation changes with our stranger, I yell, “I’m here, Gran.” I’d rather reach for a shotgun and shoot him through the screen, but it’s not close enough.

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