Page 4 of The Hidden Guardian

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My eyes fly open in the morning, my hand automatically extends toward the orchid by my bed. Only its bloom is not there; its leaves are beginning to crinkle. There’s already a pile of dried petals on the nightstand.

Whoa. I gasp, leaning back against the bed frame. These dreams haunt me sometimes. Ones where I’m running or leaping around in the forest. They make me feel free and happy instead of cooped up in this house. But this dream, this dream felt weird—different.

By the time I eat my expired oatmeal, I’m more than ready to drown myself in work. While I’m dressing for the day, Colton never makes an appearance. I don’t even hear his obnoxious snoring, which is what makes me finally open his door. His bed is still made—he never came home last night. My heart drops, and I grip the comforter to restrain myself from going out and looking for him. A bad feeling blossoms in the pit of my stomach. It churns in anticipation. I should go look for Colton. But my eyes glance down at my watch to see I’m already late for work. Colton thinks he’s ready to be an adult, I should let him. Even against the twisting in my stomach. I know my brother will never learn if I always save him. He wants to buy a house and hold down a job? He can get his hungover ass home himself. I shove down the ache in my chest and leave for work.

I ran to work and barely had time to put my vest on before joining Vicky on the floor.

“Did they notice I was missing?” I whisper, trying to catch my breath.

“Girl, no one notices you when I’m here.” She tosses her long hair over her shoulder.

“True.” I shrug. Vicky has all the confidence in the world, leaving none for the rest of us. I admire that about her sometimes.

“But surprisingly, I did have a conversation with Tom that you were in the stock room taking inventory.”

“Awesome, thanks, Vick—owe you one.”

“Yes, you do,” she calls, but I’ve already turned down the aisle.

As I round the corner, I stop short right before smacking into one of those out-of-town hunters. It’s the short one with a thick beard and bright blue eyes. But it’s his tobacco breath that makes my nose crinkle.

“Oh, Gods, I’m—” I stammer.

“Hey there, doll.” He moves the chewing tobacco from one cheek to the other.

“Do you need help, sir?” I put on my best customer service smile, one that I’ve seen Vicky use a thousand times. His head twists as he eyes me strangely.

“Hey, Carl, come here a sec.”

I raise my eyebrow; awesome, two creepy camo guys. This sounds like a job for Vicky.

“Yeah?” Carl comes to his friend’s side. Carl has deep-set eyes and wears a baseball cap like it’s his uniform.

“Doesn’t she have a nice tattoo?” he asks Carl strangely, almost sounding like he’s insinuating something.

“Tattoo? I don’t have any …” I follow his gaze down to my arm. “That’s not a tattoo, that’s a birthmark.” I’ve always had this interconnecting circular scar on my right arm. Although it seems to be getting bigger and maybe a little redder as I’ve grown over the years.

“Why, yes …” He moves closer to me. “That’s … interesting.”

I swallow hard. The looks they are giving me is making that sixth sense pool into dread. “Is there anything I can help you with,gun-wise? I hear that the new Sureshooter 400 has a better scope and cheaper rounds.” Desperately trying to hold my ground and still be professional, how in the world does Vicky do it?

They look at each other then back at me. “Where are you from?” Carl asks me.

I open my mouth to speak but the words I hear next don’t come from me. Thankfully, someone saves me.

“Back again, boys? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you come here for the company and not the guns.” Vicky shows up at my side.

“We were just getting to know your friend here.” Not-Carl winks at me, tobacco still visible.

“What? Am I old news?” She props her hand on her hip and pouts. “Well, you’re just going to have to get over it, because Autumn here has inventory to take.” She winks at me. I take that as my cue to leave because I don’t even want to spend one more second with those creeps. Something about them feels off.

“We’ll see you ’round, Autumn,” one of them calls after me and a full-body shiver runs from my toes to the top of my head.

Gods, I hope not.

The rest of the day flies by in the stock room, where I actually do have to take inventory. I don’t mind the counting, and it’s such a relieving break from dealing with customers. The monotony takes my mind off of sibling-drama, and these four walls block me from those hunting creeps. Before I know it, five o’clock sneaks upon me and I’m clocking out. Vicky is already closing her locker door and looping the lock through when I enter.

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