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My heart sinks. “You never got her number?”
“Nope. But I do know where she lives. My mother’s best friend set the date up. She lives in the same building as Lizzie.”
With a grin, I pull out my phone. “What’s the address?”
23
DILLAN
Icompletely forget about my lunch. After Herbert gives me the address and name of the building, I pay for everything and jump on my motorcycle. I have a vague idea of where I’m going, and with my bike, I’m able to weave in and out of traffic.
The apartment complex is fairly rundown.
It stands tightly packed between two other buildings, tucked back from the road. Without wasting another minute, I park my bike and head for the main entrance. Too much time has been lost between me and Lizzie. If there’s even the slightest chance she feels the same way about me as I do about her, I’m not going to sit back anymore.
Someone walks out the front door, and I catch it before it closes. Slipping into the main lobby, I have a brief moment where I realize I have no idea which floor she lives on. Most mailboxes have no names attached to them, and if they do, they’re typically hard to read.
I don’t see an Elizabeth Moore, but I won’t be deterred.
Guess I’ll just take it one floor at a time.
I don’t care if I have to knock on every door. I’m determined to find her.
The first few apartments are a bust. Either the person doesn’t answer, or nobody is home. When I get to the second floor, however, my search is paused when the sound of somebody yelling hits my ears.
Concerned, I step out of the elevator to see a man at the end of the hall, banging on the door of an apartment.
“Lizzie! I know you’re fucking there!” His words have me crossing the hall in two strides. “Open the fucking door! I want my damn money!”
The guy looks sketchy as shit. Unshaven, dark-brown hair that needs a cut, a worn black leather jacket, and torn jeans.
“Hey, hey,” I say. “Keep your damn voice down. She just had a baby.”
“I don’t give a shit! She owes me five-hundred bucks, and I’m fucking tired of her ignoring me.”
I instantly realize there probably isn’t much I can say or do to calm this man down. He has already worked himself up to the point where spittle has gathered at the corner of his mouth. He looks like a rabid dog. In his hand, I can see the crumpled-up copy of a bill from a local towing company.
He starts pounding on the door louder, even going as far as kicking it.
“What the fuck, man?” I bark. “You’ll get your money when she can give it to you. I suggest you leave.”
“Who the fuck are you?” The man rounds on me. In his rage, he seems to ignore the fact that I’m a head taller than him and more muscular. “Stay the fuck out of my business. I don’t give two shits that that skank just gave fucking birth to some bastard child! I want my damn mon?—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence.
The second he insults Lizzie and the baby, I raise my fist and land a solid punch right in the center of his face. I hear and feel the crunch. He reels back with a howl, his hands immediately coming up to clutch his broken nose.
“What the fuck?”
I grab the front of his jacket and yank him forward, practically holding him off the ground. “Listen very closely, buddy, because I’m only going to say this once,” I say in a calm, clear voice. “Don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. Lizzie has nothing to say to you. She’s got more important things to deal with than some asshole who doesn’t even have the common decency to let a new mom rest with her baby.”
“You’re fucking crazy! You’re?—”
I slam him against the wall so hard his head hits the plaster. “I am fucking crazy. Say one more word. Go ahead, please.”
He has enough smarts to keep his mouth shut.
I let go of him and reach into my pocket, pulling out some cash and sending it to his feet with a flick of my wrist.
