Page 45 of Bullseye
Okay, good. I release a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to get to her. I can’t get in the front door without a key…
“Seneca!” I whisper loudly, but there’s no way she’ll hear me.
Her shadow appears to be looking down, staring at something—her phone. Maybe she’ll answer it if I type nine-one-one…
“Sen, it’s me. It’s an emergency. 911. I’m okay. You may be in danger. Please call me.”Send.
I don’t want to terrify her, but she needs to understand.
“Sen, baby, answer your text. Call me…” I hiss in frustration.
Staring up at her window, I see her figure glance at her phone; she must have received the text.
Waiting for my phone to ring, I stare at her silhouette, feeling freaking useless and defenseless.
“Come on, Sen. Call me.”
Stepping away from the window, she turns, just as another figure walks up to her.
And she backs away…
Chapter Twelve
Bullseye
“Seneca!” Yelling to her from the street outside her apartment building does no good. She either doesn’t hear me, or someone’s keeping her from answering. My heart races, pounding in my chest, and sweat drips down my back. How am I going to get inside?
Running through the lot and jumping the bushes, I rush up to the door, throwing myself against it. Fuck. I don’t even have my piece to shoot the lock or the glass. I left it back at the club, figuring they wouldn’t let me into the hospital with a gun shoved into the back of my jeans.
“Hello?” Banging on the door with the side of my fist, I yell, “Hello? Is anyone there? It’s an emergency!”
Nothing. Shit.
Rushing back to the side of her building, I stare up, but the light’s out now, and I can’t make out anything. Not a single shadow or movement.
Well, one thing is for sure, she’s worth more alive than dead to Mikey and Tony, and there’s only one way out to the parking lot. That’s the front door. And even if they went out the back door, they’d still have to pass by me to get to the lot.
With sweat dripping into my eyes and stinging them, I run to the front of the building and throw myself against the door again, banging and pulling at the handle. There’s only one way in—and that’s to break the glass. Stepping back, I spy a garbage can off the side of the path. Grabbing it, I hold it up over my head as wrappers from candy bars and empty drink cups fall down around me.
Taking a deep breath, I rush toward the door. I need to catch the thick glass with the bottom edge of the garbage can—that’s my only way of breaking it. Damn, how I wish I had my Ruger right now. With a deep growl, I lift the can higher and turning it in just the right way, I—
—catch a glimpse of someone in the doorway. Tossing the can to the side, I rush up to the door, trying to grab it before it closes.
“Avery?”
“Seneca?”
Her gorgeous eyes search mine, and then her gaze runs up and down me. Panting, I try to calm my racing breath.
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw someone in your window with you.”
“You were watching me?” Her eyes widen in disbelief.
“I texted you. You’re in danger.”
Her eyes narrow, and her voice drops. “What? What do you mean, I’m in danger?”
