Page 27 of Fish out of Water
I grabbed the winter coat behind her, pulling it free and wrapping it around my waist before barely pushing open the door and peeking out.
Holy shit.
These guys took destruction seriously.
Sharon stood just inside the door staring at me. “What happened?”
“Someone broke in.” I squeezed out the smallest opening I could manage, doing my best to make sure Julia’s presence stayed hidden. “They just ran out the back.” I pointed toward the bedrooms. “It sounded like they busted a window.”
Sharon’s eyes slid down my chest. “Why are you naked?”
“I was getting ready to get in the shower when they came in.” I pulled the wrap of the coat tighter. I wasn’t even going to get the thing dry cleaned after this. Vito could wear around a coat I’d dragged my balls over. It’s what he got for making this fucking mess. I carefully stepped around the shit scattered across the floor as I went to check and see if the men made good on their plan to steal the fish.
Sure enough the tank was empty. Water was sloshed all over the place and the lid was completely ripped off, broken in half and tossed to the floor.
Vito was going to lose his shit.
He loved that damn fish.
I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
Sharon shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll go call the police.” She rushed away.
Apparently Vito wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a cell phone.
“Holy shit.” Julia’s voice sent me spinning toward where she was supposed to be hidden.
“Get back in there.” I pointed toward the door.
“Why?” She lifted her brows. “You worried about being caught naked in a closet with me?”
The suggestion was enough to send a little more of my blood rushing in the wrong direction. “Go home, Julia.” I pushed past her on my way to the bedroom. One of the windows was broken, sash up, screen punched out as a parting gift to Vito from the men who stole his fish.
“Were those the same guys from this morning?”
I grabbed a pair of underwear from my bag, gripping them in my fist as I shoved one finger toward the front of the destroyed apartment. “Go home, Julia.”
“Why won’t you just answer me?”
I marched toward her. “Why were you hiding in the closet?”
Her lips pressed together.
“Why won’t you just answer me?” I whined it the same way she had, attempting to throw her words back at her.
I was frustrated.
I was aggravated.
I was irritated.
And most of it was because of her.
Her chin lifted. “I came here to see if you were really Mr. Frazier’s nephew.”
I held out the arm not pinning the coat in place. “Why does it matter?”
