Page 82 of More Than Nothing
He threw the two packages across the room, one after the other. Frank caught them neatly, turning each bundle over in his hands with a grunt.
“And the other?”
Elenie stood silently beside Dean, her limbs heavy, head pounding.
“Gone. Like you said.” Her stepbrother sniffed and shifted his feet.
Frank pulled himself upright. As he crossed the room, Elenie dropped her eyes and prayed her legs weren’t shaking enough to be obvious. Instinctively, she tucked her backpack behind her body. The movement drew Frank’s eyes and she realized she’d made a dangerous mistake.
“What are you hiding, Ellie?” Frank’s voice was deceptively soft. Her stomach threatened to heave its way out of her throat.
“Nothing. It’s just my bag.”
Dean, sensing trouble, ducked out of the way and headed for the stairs. Frank prowled relentlessly closer, like an oncoming natural disaster. Elenie’s throat bobbled. She could swear her lip throbbed where he’d backhanded her weeks before. He reached out, made a beckoning gesture with meaty fingers.
She turned hot and then instantly cold.
Shit.
Fuck.
The gun.
She was a dead woman.
Mouth, hands, gut, all encased in ice, Elenie passed him her backpack. Frank undid the clasp and flipped open the top. He peered inside, then stuck a careless hand into the depths. She closed her eyes and forced a ragged swallow to take away the saliva pooling in her mouth.
“What do we have here then?”
Despair and resignation clouded the fear. Elenie opened her mouth with no idea of what to say, no voice to say it with. Her eyelids, each weighted heavy from the backwash of adrenalin, lifted slowly and she focused on the object in Frank’s hand.
It wasn’t the gun. It was her phone.
“Been holding out on me, Ellie? I didn’t know you had a cell.” He pressed a few buttons, the lock screen lighting up his double chin. Elenie’s tongue felt too big for her mouth. “Open it.”
Frank pushed the phone toward her, dropping her backpack next to his feet. She took it with trembling fingers, typed the passcode in wrong the first time, right the second, and handed it back. He scrolled for a couple of minutes, opening her messages and the photo gallery, both of which had minimal content. Innocent pictures, innocuous chats. Reading through the short list of names in her contacts, he pressed on one number and connectedthe call, his eyes boring into her own as it rang. Elenie’s stomach swooped again.
Please don’t let it be Thea’s. Don’t let Roman answer.
“Hey, Elenie—it’s a bit late for you. Everything OK?” Frank was close enough that Summer’s voice, light and sleepy, was crystal clear. Without saying a word, he ended the call. A snarky smile lifting his lips, Frank pushed her phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He sauntered to his armchair, reaching for his whiskey, and took a long, leisurely swallow. On the couch, Athena sighed in her sleep. Frank dug around for the TV remote and changed the channel.
Elenie was dismissed.
Scooping her bag up off the floor, precious cargo still inside against all the odds, she headed for the stairs on jelly legs, praying that Summer or Roman wouldn’t leave a message. One cell phone down but internal organs in place for now.
She had to get rid of this gun.
Chapter 38
Roman
Roman and Milo had a couple of beers each throughout the evening—“Look at us being responsible adults!”—before brewing a pot of coffee like a couple of old men. Remnants of the chili Caitlyn had cooked sat in a large pot in the middle of the dining table, but they’d carried all the plates out to the kitchen and made a civilized stab at cleaning up.
Roman had been struggling to keep the grin off his face since he’d arrived; it hadn’t escaped the attention of his friends.
“Happy suits you, Ro,” Milo told him. “You’re less of a miserable bastard now Elenie’s on the scene. When you’re as good-looking as we are, it’s only fair to share it around. Sometimes I look at Cait and think, damn, she’s a lucky woman.”
“You’re full of shit, Milo Walker.” Caitlyn’s voice drifted down the stairs.
