Not Dead Enough

Chapter 1-2

The walk home wiped all of Julia’s energy, her steps almost shuffling and her clothing soaked with sweat by the time she reached the small house she was renting. Thankfully the place was owned by a national chain, so she didn’t have to be worried about eviction as long as she paid her rent on time. Which just left the worry that Buddy would have her killed off and buried in a shallow grave somewhere out of town.

One long, cool shower and a nap later, she wandered into the kitchen to pour a large glass of wine. A glance out of the window into the garden assured her that the shadows had begun to lengthen into evening. This time of year, darkness would fall quickly, but that didn’t bother her. A night owl, she liked to sit outside on the porch and watch the stars.

She put the bottle back in the fridge and turned. There was someone standing in her garden, a shadowy broad-shouldered someone by the bushes in front of the back fence. She shrieked, shock loosening her grip on her glass, and it fell to shatter on the tiles.

“Shitshitshit,” she muttered, glancing at the mess on the floor for a second before fear dragged her gaze back to the window. The figure was gone, as though it had never been. Someone had been there though. She hadn’t imagined it.

Her gaze shot to the side door. The front she always locked, but had she locked the side door after taking the garbage out? s**t, she couldn’t remember, and even so, the flimsy lock wouldn’t stand up to much. She needed to throw the deadbolt.

Heart slamming against her ribs, she slid her feet through the broken glass, trying to push it out of the way instead of stepping on it. Shards stabbed into the delicate skin, but she gritted her teeth and carried on. Secure the house first, deal with the blood later. A footstep on the porch outside drew a squeak from her lips and she threw herself across the remaining space to throw the bolt.

She leaned against the wall by the door, her breathing coming in ragged pants as she listened. The soft chuckle on the other side of the door froze her in place. She hadn’t imagined it; there was someone outside.

Buddy’s men. This was it. Tonight was the night he’d been telling her about in his little body-disposal call last week.

Fear galvanized her, and she took off across the kitchen. Blood on her feet made them slippery and she almost fell on the wooden floor in the hall, one shoulder slamming hard into the wall but she recovered immediately and hit the stairs. Taking them two at a time, she turned right at the top and raced into her bedroom.

Her hands shook as she yanked open the drawer on the bedside cabinet. At the back was a handgun, one given to her by her lone friend in the town, Thomas. Her fingers closed around it, and she yanked it free to check it as she’d been shown. As she did, she moved to the window, trying to look down on the back garden from behind the blinds. Dark figures moved in the lengthening shadows.

“Oh my god .” There was more than one of them.

Trying to suppress her panic, Julia reached for the phone by her bed and lifted it to her ear. It was dead.

“Nonono....” She pressed the button a couple of times, waiting for the tone, but it remained stubbornly dead. They’d cut the phone line. “Shit.”

Dropping the phone, she took another look down into the garden. Three figures stood motionless, watching the house. As though they sensed her attention, all three looked up. A cold chill washed over her, and she backed up out of sight, looking around the room. Without a car, she was screwed. Probably with it as well, since she was sure they’d have the front of the house covered. And since no one in this town gave a rat’s ass about her, screaming wouldn’t help.

She needed her cell, needed to call Thomas. The local sheriff, he could help her, even if it was only getting her to the nearest city she could disappear into.

“Dammit. Downstairs.” She’d left her purse by the front door. She had to get to it, before they got in.

Ignoring the bloody footprints she left in her wake, she launched herself out of the room, thundering down the stairs. No sense in being quiet. They knew she was in here. Almost at the bottom, she screamed when she heard the back door burst open. Turning that way, she fired blindly, backing up to reach her purse. If she could just get her cell.

“Hello, ma’am. Pleasure to see you again.”

She turned, eyes wild and heart pounding, to find the guy from the street by the front door, her purse dangling from his hand. But something was wrong. He wasn’t wearing shades now and his eyes were too dark.

Then he smiled, revealing sharp fangs. Julia screamed and turned to run. These weren’t Buddy’s men, but she didn’t care. One nightmare or another, if she didn’t get out of here, she was going to die.

She didn’t make it. Another figure stepped into her path, a hard hand closing around the handgun and plucking it from her grasp with ease.

“Well hello, pretty one,” he leered down at her.

Tall and handsome, he could easily have passed for a poster boy. Except for the darkness in his eyes and the cruel twist to his lips. She shivered, unable to stop the whimper escaping her lips as he leaned down.

“I do hope the boss lets me have a little playtime with you when he’s done.”