A Shattered Heart (Fractured Lives 2)

I was almost to my stairs when I heard a low whistle behind me. "Hey, chica, what's your hurry?"

My foot stalled on the step. I debated ignoring him. Twelve steps separated me from some small measure of security.

"Puta, I'm talking to you."

My Spanish was rusty at best but I knew enough to know when I was being insulted.

"Leave her alone, ese," Carlos said.

"You tapping that ass, man? Maybe we can work out a trade on what you owe me."

Anger rippled through me. I whipped around to glare at the hulking figure who was now leering at me like a slab of beef. A sarcastic retort was on the tip of my tongue, but Carlos' sudden pasty complexion held me back. I'd seen many sides of Carlos in my year at the complex—from cockiness to flirtatious to the occasional drunkenness—but I'd never seen him afraid. His fear sent a jolt of uncertainness through me. My training at the gym made me certain I could hold my own in a physical situation, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt this guy wouldn't fight fair.

"Kit-Kat you head on upstairs," Carlos ordered, standing up. His tone showed assertiveness. It was streaked in familiarity and suggested a false intimacy. Any other time I'd have challenged his tone, but I was smart enough to play along. Carlos had maneuvered his body between the stairs where I stood and his unwelcome guest. I was so used to seeing him sitting down on his broken-down couch, it took me aback. "I'll be up as soon as I finish with Antonio."

"Okay," I said, shooting him a smile and a small wink that suggested playful, though I felt anything but.

Carlos gave me a small nod of approval. Antonio missed it since his eyes were still glued to me. I felt dirty standing there. Keeping my smile in place, I turned around and forced myself to slowly walk up the stairs. I could feel their eyes on me with each step I took. I mentally counted each one down. Ten steps and I'd be safe in my apartment. Nine more to go and I could forget the flicker of fear I'd seen in Carlos' eyes. Six steps left. I was halfway there. The urge to bolt up the last remaining stairs was so strong I almost felt physically ill from it. Two steps. I was now lost in the shadows. The adrenaline coursing through my body took over and I took both steps as one and hurried the remaining distance to my apartment.

I fumbled in my bag, searching for my keys. My fingers grazed my wallet and lipgloss, but my keys eluded them. For a terrible moment I wondered if I'd left them in my car. Panic began to claw its way up my throat. If I'd left them in my car there was no way I would be able to force myself to go back down the stairs. Full-fledged freak-out was beginning to settle in when my fingers finally closed around my keys. I was tempted to kiss them but figured that could wait until I was safely in my apartment.

After a few false attempts, I was able to get the key to slide into the lock, despite the trembling of my fingers. Pushing my door open, I slid inside and slammed it behind me. My flimsy lock mocked me as I slid it into place. I should have replaced it like Dad wanted me to. Eyeing the door, now I saw all its flaws. One hard shove and the door would easily swing open.

Dropping my bag on the counter, I turned to the upholstered chair that used to sit in my granny's house. Growing up it had been my favorite spot to curl up with my sketchpad in hand. It was as deep as it was wide and covered in material that had gone soft from years of wear. Granny had given it to me when I returned from my trip abroad. At the time it was her subtle way of offering me a place to seek comfort.

With some effort I managed to push the heavy chair across the room. I was swearing by the time I shoved it flush against my front door. I felt safer as soon as it was in place. No one would be getting through my door tonight.

I was halfway through my shower and shampooing my hair when it hit me how ridiculous I was being. I'd most likely imagined Carlos' apprehension from earlier. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he and Antonio were screwing with me. I bet once I left they'd both gotten a big laugh over my skittish response.

As I dried off I told myself I was probably right. Tomorrow I'd see Carlos and he'd tease me for my reaction. Ridiculous or not, Granny's heavy chair remained in front of the door through the night, and I slept with my bedroom lamp on.

Carlos was missing from his porch the next day when I finally left my apartment. Though I was convinced my theory about him messing with me the night before was correct, I still dragged my feet leaving my apartment. I first argued that I needed to clean it up, though it really wasn't all that messy. That didn't stop me from throwing myself into cleaning with gusto. Once the apartment was cleaned I sat on my couch going through the stack of stuff I'd tossed on my coffee table. Most of it was junk mail that normally would be tossed without opening, but today I spent an insane amount of time going through each piece. Finally, when there was nothing else to go through, I forced myself to scoot Granny's chair away from the door.

I paused at the top of the stairs, listening intently for any indication that Carlos had company again as I left my apartment. Not hearing anything, I slowly crept down the stairs like some burglar. My brain taunted me, telling me I was being ridiculous. I reasoned that I was being cautious. Cautious was good.

All my worry was for naught when I finally made my way down the stairs and saw no one was waiting for me. As I walked by his empty apartment I couldn't help the small flicker of doubt at my earlier theory. Carlos never left his patio, but it was possible he was in his apartment. A simple knock on his door would put all my doubts to rest. He'd really laugh at me when he opened his door. He'd know his ploy last night had gotten to me.

I stood in front of his door, which sat in the shadows beneath the stairs, for a full minute, debating whether I should knock. Shaking my head, I turned away from his door and ran headlong into something solid standing in the shadows.

Large hands fumbled for my arms. Adrenaline eclipsed the fear I knew I should have felt. Without giving any conscious thought to it, my hand closed into a fist and struck out near my perpetrator's throat as I'd been trained. My fist was tiny but it struck with accuracy. A grunt of pain rang through the air as I moved to a fighting stance, waiting for him to come at me again.

"Kat," the perpetrator gasped in a familiar voice.

Eleven

My eyes squinted trying to make out the person I'd hit.

"Brian, what the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack," I said as we stepped out of the shadows.

Brian clutched his throat. "So you decided to remove my larynx because I scared you?"

"I didn't know it was you," I huffed. "Why did you sneak up behind me like that?"

"Kat, I weigh two hundred and thirty pounds. I don't think it's possible for me to sneak up on anyone. I saw you heading back here and wondered where you were going. Isn't this that guy's apartment?" he asked, saying "guy's" like it was a dirty word.

"Yeah, I needed to ask him a question," I lied, turning my back on Carlos' apartment. Brian shot me a look.

"Are you doing drugs, Kat?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.