Page 83 of Fish out of Water
“GRANT.”
Julia’s voice jolted me awake, the hushed urgency it carried sending me sitting straight up. “What’s wrong?”
She scooted toward the headboard pulling the pile of covers high on her chest. “I heard something.”
I stopped breathing and held perfectly still.
Sure enough, an odd sound carried through my closed bedroom door.
I was out of the bed and across the room in a heartbeat, silently moving the framed art that hid a recess in the wall to retrieve the pistol I never expected to need down here.
Fucking Vito. Just had to follow me to Florida.
Not that I could be too upset with him. Without his bullshit I would have slept alone last night.
Or worse, with another woman I didn’t really have any interest in.
“Why do you have a gun?”
Julia’s voice was right behind me.
I turned and pointed to the bed. “Stay here.”
“No.” She came closer. “What if you need me to stab someone again?”
I lifted one brow at her. She was wearing one of my faded Star Wars t-shirts and nothing else. High school me would have been fucking ecstatic to know where it would one day be.
But it wasn’t useful for self-defense. “What are you going to stab them with?”
Julia glanced around, her head snapping from side to side. She stretched to grab a heavy bronze sculpture from the top of my dresser before retaking her place at my back.
It wasn’t a bad option. The Adrienne Étienne Gaudez statue was heavy and sturdy enough to take down a grown man as long as there was enough momentum behind it.
Probably not what my mother had in mind when she chose it for my house.
“Stay behind me.” I kept my voice low as another sound carried through the door.
Julia nodded, shifting her grip on the hellishly-expensive piece of art.
I twisted the knob on my door, quietly pulling it open before slowly stepping out into the hall.
The sound was coming from the kitchen.
No one should have been able to get in here. I had the best security system on the market, not to mention steel entry doors and cameras that should have been more than enough of a deterrent.
The sound of drawers opening made it clear whoever was in my kitchen was looking for something.
Most likely an envelope of money they wouldn’t be able to find.
I edged toward the doorway, sticking tight to the wall. Julia was practically glued to me, moving when I moved, breathing when I breathed.
She was turning out to be quite the partner in crime.
I tipped my head, clearing the opening with one eye.
Enough to see exactly who was in my kitchen.
Going through my shit.
