Perfectly Toxic (Sterling Shore 9)

Another sound rattles out, like something is scurrying across the floor. “Hurry,” I whisper-yell.

“Just stay on the phone with me,” he says, sounding angry or panicked or both. I’m not sure which.

Silence stretches, with the exception of a few occasional curses coming through on the phone, and I press my other ear to the door, listening. If a knife slams through the wood, I’ll just go ahead and die from a heart attack.

Too many horror films.

As the unknown slasher or axe-murderer on the other side of the door maintains their silence, I bounce from one foot to the other, warily casting glances toward my window to make sure the asshole doesn’t sneak up on me that way.

“I’m almost there,” Ethan says harshly, reminding me he’s still on the phone.

“Do you have a weapon?” I hiss, watching for his lights.

“Yeah, there’s an assault rifle strapped to my back,” he deadpans.

“Really?”

“Fuck no. I just jumped in my car.”

“What if he has a gun?” I ask, still whispering.

“He? You know it’s a guy?”

“Do you know of any women who might break into my house and chop me into tiny bits? Men are the psychotic ones.”

“We met because a girl tried to stab me with a damn broken beer bottle. Be thankful she’s in another country right now.”

“Okay, so it’s usually men,” I amend.

“Ash had a female stalker, and have you met Raya’s family?”

It occurs to me that we’re talking like my life isn’t at stake here, and I realize he’s trying to distract me. It doesn’t work because something that sounds like glass crashes somewhere in the house, and I yelp.

“Bella! The fuck?”

“Something just broke,” I whisper, slinking back away from the door.

“Just stay put and stay quiet.”

“Says the guy who is on the phone and talking to me,” I retort.

Lights blur by me, and a car skids to a halt outside. Relief fills me like cool water when I see it’s Ethan’s car.

“I’m here,” he says as the phone goes dead.

My breath freezes in my lungs when I hear the front door slam, and fear seizes my momentary reprieve. What if Ethan gets hurt? What if the guy has a gun or a machete or something?

Minutes feel like hours, and my stomach roils and twists with palpable anxiety.

When I hear a loud bout of cursing, I jerk open the door, grabbing the only thing in my room that will do some damage as I dart out to save an unarmed Ethan. A new sense of courage fills me and I launch myself at the shadowy figure, raising my hands above my head to bring my Magic Wand down on the psycho.

But my hands freeze, suspended midair, when Ethan flips on the light and smirks at me.

“That’s twice you’ve brought your toy out for me,” he states dryly.

He tosses a flashlight to the ground, rolling his eyes at me.

“There’s no one here,” he adds as I lower the vibrator that is masquerading as a weapon. A frown forms on my lips as I drop the vibrator to the table beside me.