Page 48 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

I closed and locked the door behind me.

"Noah?" I called a little louder this time. "Can you please come to the kitchen for supper?" It was a stupid way to lure him out. And it was weird that I said supper instead of dinner. But it sounded more innocent to say supper than the poisonous dinner I wanted to serve him right this second.

Silence.

Snuggle Muffins whimpered in my arms.

For some reason, instead of trying to console him, I followed his gaze. He was staring at the back door.

"What is it, Snuggle Muffins? Do you see him out there?" There were windows on the top half of the door that looked out into the back yard. I couldn't see out there when it was so dark. But I knew nothing about dog night vision. Could he see Noah out there holding a chainsaw looking like a psychopath?

Snuggle Muffins whimpered again.

I wanted to whimper too and hide. But instead, I forced my feet forward. "Do you see him?" I whispered again.

Snuggle Muffins' tail started wagging against my arm.

I didn't know what that meant. Was he aggravated? Happy? Fucking scared out of his mind like me? I inched closer to the door and he wagged his tail even more. I felt a tear run down my cheek. God, what is wrong with me? I'm a grown-ass woman. I'm not scared right now.

But when a snowball hit the window I screamed at the top of my lungs and threw Snuggle Muffins and my taser toward the door.

Luckily we were far enough away and Snuggle Muffins was heavy enough that he landed gracefully on the floor instead of slamming against the door. My taser wasn't as fortunate. It broke in half as it fell to the ground. Shit.

Snuggle Muffins started barking at the door. Full, crazy barks that I had never heard him make before.

"Stop it, Snuggle Muffins." I snapped my fingers at him when he didn't quit the noise. It just made him bark louder.

Those stupid little kids having snowball fights on my property were going to get what was coming to them. I was going to kill them. Or at least have a word with their mothers. I grabbed the doorknob and went to yank the door open and almost threw out my shoulder. Fuck. But whatever pain in my shoulder I felt quickly disappeared.

Fuck. Me. The deadbolt to the back door was locked. From the inside. Which meant... I turned around and stared through the kitchen and down the hallway. Noah definitely hadn't left.

It didn't make sense. He should have fled. It was the only logical thing to do. He was my prisoner. It was his one chance for freedom. But he hadn't run. He was here. The fucking maniac was somewhere in here.

I pressed my back against the door. My taser was shattered on the floor. Snuggle Muffins was barking so loudly that I couldn't even hear my own breaths. And all I could think about was the fact that Noah was going to make me pee in a litter box when he overpowered me. Or starve me. Or drug me. Or...worse. I'm going to die.

Chapter 18

Sunday

I couldn't make myself move away from the door. Noah was in here. Somewhere. Why the hell wasn't he coming out? "Noah?" I whispered again.

/> Silence.

I could run out the back door like I originally thought Noah had. Running away would be a good choice. The safe choice. Really the only sane option. But Noah hadn't run. Why? And why the hell should I run if he hadn't? I couldn’t let him win. Again.

Snuggle Muffins nudged a piece of the shattered taser with his nose.

"Don't touch that." The thought of him electrocuting himself made me finally move away from the door. I wasn't sure if the taser would still work, but it was worth a shot. I picked up all the pieces, making sure none of them ended up in Snuggle Muffins' mouth. But after pressing both sides back together, it wasn't looking good. Shit.

A floorboard creaked above my head. I swallowed hard. If Noah was right above me, he was in...the empty room. The room meant for our child. Or maybe the house was settling. That was probably it, right? I hugged my arms around myself. As much as I wanted to believe that it was the bones of the house, I didn't believe that excuse for a second. That son of a bitch was up there snooping around. And I needed a new weapon now that my taser was shot. I tossed the pieces on the counter.

Nothing popped into my head that would give me an advantage over his strength. I could get a shovel from the garage, but it would be too heavy. My only advantage was that I was quick. And pissed. I went to grab a knife out of the knife block and realized that one of the knives was already missing. So he hadn't armed himself with rusty tools from the garage. He'd gone straight for a knife. I pulled out a much bigger, sharper chef's knife. If he’d ever spent any time in the kitchen, he'd know that I loved this knife. I sharpened it all the time. And it cut through any kind of meat really, really easily. God, I was going to win this fight. I really hope it hurts like hell when this goes through his leg.

I tiptoed out of the kitchen and down the hall. Snuggle Muffins was hot on my trail, but I ignored him as I slowly crept up the stairs. I needed to focus on any little noise, and Snuggle Muffins was a mouth breather. The first thing I thought of was a scene from Home Alone where Kevin McCallister tossed paint cans down the stairs. But there was no banister to hang them from. And Noah wasn't a child rigging our house to kill robbers. Noah was dangerous.

Not that Kevin wasn't dangerous. He was a clever little menace with a penchant for setting people's heads on fire. But Noah? The image of Sophia Tremblay's swollen face flashed in my mind as I stepped up another stair. Noah was Kevin all grown up, with muscles for days. Stop thinking about his muscles. Noah also had a fairly sharp knife. And he had so many reasons to want me dead. Or to at least maim me a little. I couldn't even blame him. I'd been torturing him, demanding answers he didn't have because I'd given him a concussion or something. And neither one of us was entirely sure it was an accident.

I gripped the knife tighter. It was bigger and sharper than Noah’s. And he was probably still hurt from his fall down the stairs and sore from sitting in a chair for days. Would that be enough to tip the scales in my favor during a knife fight? I knew how to butcher meat, not men.

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