Page 3 of Unmasked Rivalry
His face flashes, something I can’t read. “And if you bail?”
I consider it. “Then you can keep the house and do whatever the hell you want with it, burn it down for all I care. That’s a pretty solid deal, I think.”
“Depends, if I keep it, can I clean it up and sell it?”
At this point, I don’t actually care what happens to it, though the money from the sale would be helpful, so I have no intentions of letting him win.
So, I nod in agreement.
He nods and flicks ash onto the ground. “Deal.”
“Deal,” I mutter. “What makes you so confident you’ll win?”
He pushes off the truck and opens the door. “You’re a city girl, ain’t no way you’re goin’ to be able to handle what comes out at dark. Sleep tight.”
He gets into the truck and drives away, leaving me standing, arms crossed, terrified.
What the hell comes out when it’s dark?
Help.
I LAST ABOUT FOUR MINUTESand twenty-seven seconds before rushing to my car and high-tailing it to the store. Rat traps. For some horrifying reason, my body seems to know I’ll need them the most. I consider sleeping in my car, just to make it through the night, but the windows at the back don’t wind up, and that means I could end up stuck inside the car, with whatever creatures are out here.
I stop for cleaning supplies, air freshener, a six-pack, and a single pack of popcorn because I literally have to save every cent to try and fix this damn house up, which is why I plan on winning the bet. I buy a plastic tarp because it feels like the sort of thing that I might just need, plus a blow-up mattress and sleeping bag so I can get some rest. By the time I get back, the sun is setting in that violently dramatic, orange-y way that feels like a red flag. Like the earth itself is warning me: don’t go in there, girlfriend.
I unload the car, slow and deliberate. I drag it all inside, along with my favorite lamp that I brought from home, and the box of books I refuse to live without. The air inside is thick, and I pray I’ve got enough light to get me through the night because there is no power to this place until I go in tomorrow and get it connected again.
First order of business: make a place to sleep that doesn’t require military-grade tetanus shots. I decide the living room is safest, and unload my stuff onto the ground, set up my lamp on a crate, and dial up a playlist loud enough to mask the sound of any animals lurking in the drywall. I clean like a woman possessed. By the time my eyes burn from bleach fumes, it’s nearly midnight and my hands are raw, but the rat droppings are gone from the room, and I can breathe without catching something nobody has discovered yet.
I strip out of my clothes, wipe myself down with a washer, and then flop down onto the blow-up mattress, stretching out, popcorn bag in one hand, phone in the other, and just as I’m about to bask in the ambiance of my new disaster, I hear it.
Ck-ck-ck.
I freeze.
Ck-ck-ck-ck.
It’s definitely not wind.
The noise comes from behind the filthy radiator, and I stare at it, paralyzed, the popcorn dangling like an offering to some satanic beast. Then the radiator shakes, actual movement, and a rather large flash of something skitters in the shadows.
My entire soul leaves my body.
“NOPE!” I shriek. But instead of running, because I’m apparently one of those morons in horror movies, I hurl the entire bag of popcorn at the radiator and grab my phone. The rat (raccoon? small lion? miniature bear?) launches itself at the food, and in the blue glow of my lamp, I can see it is most definitely a rat. There are two, no, three of them now, scrabbling for the popcorn like they haven’t eaten for a week.
Let me tell you, judging by the sheer size of them, their last meal was a small human.
Still screaming, I bolt out to the car. I slam the door, breathing hard, and dial the only number I can think of, the onethe girls slipped me earlier for the clubhouse, right before Knox told me to get the hell out. I can’t even remember the name of the girl who gave it to me. Macy? Mera? I don’t know.
It rings forever. Finally, on the fourth try, I get an answer.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice can be heard amidst the sounds of partying in the background.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Brantley. Who is this?”
