Page 42 of Drawn to You
I run so fast I don’t see the rock sticking out of the path, and I stumble, falling onto the ground on all fours. I get up right away, cursing. When I get to the backhouse, I bang on the door. “Open up! Brittney! Mason!”
No response. The windows are all closed, and curtains are fully drawn. Shit. I’m nearly paralyzed, and I have to stop myself from imagining what is going on inside.
I curse while pacing in front of the house, thinking about what to do. I call Brittney again, but still, she doesn’t answer it. Is she mad at me? What the hell is she doing? Frustration overcomes me, and I kick the door, hoping I can force it open.
“Hey, stop it” I hear a voice shouting behind me. Crap. A woman wearing an apron is running toward me. It must be the housekeeper. I have to get in the house before she gets to me.
Desperate, I pick up a rock from the garden ground and threw it over the window. It cracks open, sending splinters onto the ground. A man’s voice shouts. “What the fuck? Back off, Andrew! I’m calling the police,” Mason threatens me.
I don’t answer him but climb into the house through the opening right away.
“Hey! You can’t just break into my property like that. I’m going to press charge, and you’ll go to jail!” Mason says as he comes over to me, trying to block me.
I shove him aside and quickly scan the interior. There are two glasses of orange juice on the coffee table, looking untouched. “Where is Brittney?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. She isn’t here.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “I saw her going in here with you.” There’s another room in the cottage, and I storm into it. No Brittney. I check the bathroom, not seeing her either.
When I’m back to the living room, the housekeeper is here, looking apprehensive. “Are you all right, sir? What happened to the window?” she asks Mason.
“No, I’m not,” Mason says. “There’s a fucking intruder in my house!”
The woman gasps when she sees me. “I’ll call the police, sir,” she says and reaches for her phone.
But Mason snatches the phone from her hand and throws it onto the floor. “Don’t bother. Just get the fuck out of here.”
The woman stares at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then she picks up her phone and scrambles to her feet.
I grab Mason’s collar and press him against the wall. “Where the hell is her?”
“She isn’t here!”
I know he’s lying, but there doesn’t seem to be much I can do. I want to beat the hell out of him, but finding Brittney is the first thing on my mind. Not losing my grasp on the jerk, I take out my cellphone and dial Brittney’s number. A second later, I hear the ringtone of her phone, and it comes from under the couch.
I’m on my knees the next minute, looking under the furniture even though the space is way too small for a person. Brittney isn’t there, but her purse is.
I’m going to reach for the purse but Mason makes a move to grab a vase on the table. I dodge before he throws it on me and then I bring him down to the floor and we struggle. Soon I’m sitting on top of him, my hands at his throat, applying pressure and making him choke.
“I have the evidence she’s here, or she’s been here,” I say to him. “You kidnapped her.”
“No! I didn’t,” he says in a choked voice and coughs.
I loosen my grasp to let him speak. “She agrees to come. She wants to rent this house.”
“Then where is she?” I ask, tightening my grasp again.
He gags and points to a panel on the wall. I stare at it for a moment and realize it’s the door of a closet.
I rush toward it and open the door. There is Brittney lying on the floor, her shirt button undone. Shit!
I scoop her up, carry her to the couch and button her up.
“You motherfucker! What the hell did you do to her?” I swing at Mason, punch him over and over until he shrinks into a ball on the floor.
“Please, Andrew, stop!” he begs. “I didn’t do anything… I swear.”
I glare at him for a moment and then check Brittney. The zipper of her pants is intact. “It’d better be true. Otherwise I’ll kill you!”
