Page 67 of Lock Me Out

But we have to get out of it first. I will not let my brother sacrifice himself for me—and there’s something else, another aspect he hasn’t mentioned, but I know must be on his mind. What about Leni? They’re not going to let her go.

“Don’t listen to him.” George looks at his wife, then at Mike. “We all know the police won’t fucking care. They sure as hell didn’t when it came to confirming whose body was in the kitchen. This one’s car was parked at the house; they were satisfied he was the one who got blown up. Even when we asked them to confirm, they couldn’t be bothered. They won’t go out of their way to find out what happened to Colt when it hasn’t even been a year since his father and brother died in a tragic accident.” He sneers.“Maybe he was feeling unstable. They’ll believe what they need to believe to file their reports and move on.”

He’s probably right about that.

“That’s why we have to do this,” George insists. There’s something fanatical in his voice, unhinged. He reminds me of a preacher trying to convince his congregation to handle a snake. His breathing is sharp and grasping, and now sweat is practically pouring down his head and the sides of his face. “If we want justice, we take matters into our own hands, right? That’s where all of this started. We do not give up now. For our kids, for all of our kids.”

“I’m sure the cops would never suspect you.” Nix almost seems like he’s enjoying himself, almost laughing. “If you’ve been raising shit with the police over what you think they should have been doing for your kid, who do you think will be the prime suspect? So let’s pair that up with the footage of you trying to run Colt down—which there were witnesses to, by the way—and you have an open-and-shut case. They would be happy to put you away quickly just to close the case and move on. Is that justice? It’s not like it would bring Bradley back. Or what’s his name? The one you don’t give a shit about.”

“That is enough!” Cecilia shrieks. “Do not talk about my boys! You nasty, evil, disgusting thing!”

Mike looks at me, then at Nix, before looking at George. “You know, it could be true.”

Yes, but will that be enough to convince George to change his mind? Or have things already gone so far there’s no turning back? There’s nothing to do but sit here and wait to see what our fate will be.

29

LENI

This is ridiculous.Am I supposed to sit here all night, worrying myself half to death, jumping every time there’s a tiny noise outside?

Because that is exactly what I’m doing—ready to jump out of my skin, pacing my apartment like a crazy person as minutes turn to hours. Before long, it’s almost 12:30, and I haven’t gotten a text from either of them to let me know they’re still alive.

What are they doing? What’s happening? What if I’m right, and George was waiting for them? What if this is exactly what he wanted Colt to do? Because he didn’t know Nix is still alive, so he wouldn’t be expecting him. What if he hurts them both?

What if he does more than hurt them?

My heart seizes when footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment get louder. The gun sits on the coffee table—I haven’t been able to touch it since I left it there after the guys left. Do I need it? Should I grab it? Holding my breath, I listen as the sound gets louder, and louder… and softer as whoever it is keeps walking.

I can’t take this anymore.

Colt’s laptop sits open on the kitchen table, where he looked up the address earlier while we were waiting for pizza to be delivered. We actually sat and ate pizza while waiting for the right time for them to leave and do things I don’t want to think about. Like this was an ordinary night. The house is still pulled up on Google Maps—I type the address into my phone, shaking with fear but filled with determination. I’m not going to let them do this on their own, not when I’m part of the reason they went in the first place. Maybe they need my help.

Even if I wonder whether I would be able to shoot somebody if the time came. I guess that’s the kind of thing you just have to do in the moment. You can’t think about it beforehand.

Colt will be so happy to know I am finally driving my car. I guess this is as good a reason as any to get behind the wheel. The house is a short drive from the apartment, but that still gives me plenty of time to worry like hell and hope I’m not making the wrong choice by coming out here.Let them be okay. Let it already be over and let them be okay. Colt will probably be annoyed with me for taking a risk, but that is nothing compared to the terrible things that could possibly be happening.

Right away, I notice a car parked down the block from the end of the cul-de-sac that definitely does not belong here. Nix’s car. They must have left it here to keep from being noticed. I park in the next empty spot near the curb, kill the engine, and sit in silence for what feels like forever. Am I seriously doing this? I can’t turn back now.

It’s a cool night, and the air hitting my skin once I step out of the car makes me shiver. I shove my fists into the pockets of my hoodie and tuck my chin close to my chest, walking quicklythe rest of the way to a set of open gates at the end of a wide driveway leading up to a house that sits above the others.

The grounds around the house are covered in trees, giving some privacy and cover for me to sneak up there without worrying about being spotted. There are no lights on in the front of the house, and I walk as quietly as I can around the outside, listening hard for anything coming from behind the walls.

The first beams of light I see comes from windows just above ground level, telling me they’re in the basement. Something inside me is almost too afraid to let me get any closer—my feet are rooted to the ground, and I’m shaking so hard it’s tough to walk a straight line. But this isn’t about me, it’s about them, and thinking about what they might be going through keeps me moving until I reach the window and lower myself to one knee, peeking inside.

I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to hold back my gasp. There are three people in there, two men and a woman, and the men take turns punching Nix while a bloody, bruised Colt watches. Nix spits blood onto his T-shirt and lifts his head, saying something I can’t hear with the windows closed. Whatever it is, it enrages the woman holding a gun on them—she shrieks something and motions with the gun like she wants to fire. One of the men has to be George, though I don’t know who the other one is. Not like it matters.

They’re going to kill them. Why else would they have them tied up like they are? I can’t just stand here and let that happen.

Now I rush, jogging to the back door with the gun tucked in my waistband, the way I saw Nix and Colt do it before they left. The back door is broken—that must be how they got in.

The kitchen is large but cluttered, messy, like it’s been neglected for a while. I hear voices coming from downstairs. The basement door is open next to the fridge, and I tiptoe toward it, careful in case there’s a squeaky floorboard or something else that would give me away. They’re obviously too busy down there to notice anything up here, though. Shouting, accusations, and pained groans from the sounds of flesh hitting flesh tell me the beating is still going on. I have to stop them. But how?

Footsteps ring out. Somebody’s coming up. With my heart in my throat, I tiptoe away, rounding a graceful archway separating the kitchen from the room beyond it. Everything is dark—not that I would care about the decor if the lights were on.

“Maybe it’s time to use the knives.” It’s the woman of the group, now standing in the kitchen. Knives? It’s enough to make my blood run cold. She’s puttering around in there, doing something at the sink—before coming my way.

I have to do something. I have to stop this!

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