Page 8 of For the Taking

Wrapping her arms around her waist, which was kind of awkward with the cast, she held onto her bag, and she’d purchased a cap so no one could really see her face.

She wasn’t totally stupid.

Going back home probably was.

She had nowhere else to go, and even as she screamed in her head what she was doing was fucking stupid, she had to grab some stuff.

The motel had been on the outskirts of the city. In her apartment, she kept a tiny safe with her savings inside. She didn’t trust a bank, and with Peace possibly after her, she had to keep a low profile.

There was no way he’d keep watch on her apartment, was there? Either way, she had to risk it.

There was nearly ten grand worth of savings. She put a small amount in the bank every single week, and most of it went in her tin.

After nearly ten years of savings, she was more than impressed with what she had put aside.

Outside of her building, she kept her distance, looking around, checking for anyone who stood out. The expensive blank cars of criminals who wanted to kill her.

She didn’t see anything.

Kids played in the street, getting a little too close to passing cars for her liking. There was nothing she could do about it.

If she ever had kids, she hoped to be able to afford a small house with a yard for them to play in.

Yeah, ideals and dreams. She was all about living in fairy tales.

When she was convinced no one was following her, she crossed the street, grabbed her keys, and took off toward her apartment.

No one was waiting in the stairwell.

She took her time, so if anyone stood out, she could run.

At her apartment, she knew she was taking a huge risk. Someone could be inside to finish off the job.

Her money.

Her savings.

It would make moving easier for her.

She’d worked hard for that money.

You’re so fucking stupid. It’s just money.

It was money she had earned and she was entitled to.

Even as she hated stepping foot into her apartment, she did exactly that, wishing she hadn’t.

Shutting the door, she kept her eyes closed, another thing she hated to do. She hated being afraid.

When she opened her eyes, there was no one.

The heavy scent of lavender filled the air.

She loved the smell, and it helped mask the mold she often detected in the apartment. She had cleaned every single inch of the place and couldn’t find a speck of mold, but it was there. She knew it was.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she quickly checked through her one-bedroom place. There was no sign of a break-in. The kitchen was clear. The bread she had purchased had mold all over it, and the bag looked ready to explode.

Tossing the bread in the trash, she shook her head.

“Focus, woman, focus. You’re not here to clean up the place.”

Her apartment was paid until the end of the month, so she wouldn’t ask for a refund for leaving early.

When the landlord, Bill, came to take the rent, he’d find her gone. She’d leave a note or something.

Rushing to her bedroom, she opened the wardrobe and grabbed her suitcase. Her arm hurt really bad, but she ignored the pain. She had to get the fuck out of here.

Opening up the case, she began to throw her clothes inside.

She hated packing like this, but she didn’t have much choice. Someone could come at any minute. All she wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep.

No rest for her.

Just surviving.

She had already wasted so much time.

With her clothes and shoes in the case, she rushed back into the room, pushed aside the single used chair she’d purchased, and loosened the floorboard.

She jumped back as a spider ran across the room. She hated creepy crawlies.


Grabbing her tin, she wanted to do the dance of grossness as it was covered in a web, but she didn’t have time.

There were worse things in the world than spiders.

Putting the tin with her money, which she quickly checked was still there in the case, she zipped up the bag and froze.

Someone was trying her doorknob.

Moving toward the connecting bedroom, she could see from where she was standing that the knob was being turned.

Stepping back, she closed the door and was about to flick the lock into place as someone put a hand over her mouth, silencing her.

“I thought you had a little more intelligence than you actually do!” Her hero growled in her ear.

She had never been so happy to have someone put their hand over her mouth to silence her. She was losing the plot fast.

The door outside opened, and her man, whatever he was called, stepped her back until they were in the corner of the room.

“Don’t make a single sound.”

She wasn’t going to.

There was no doubt someone was in her apartment. She heard their steps. They were slow, but she imagined that was down to being prepared, hunting her.