Page 53 of Floodgates

“You’re sure?” I asked again as I put my glasses on, not turning my head to look at him, simply leaning against him heavily.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”

I nodded and then closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart, willing my stomach to unclench and my breathing to even out.

I heard a lot of sirens, and minutes later, when I opened my eyes, there was a new flood of noise from outside—voices, doors slamming, and just sound, too much for before dawn in my father’s quiet neighborhood.

A policeman leaned in and closed the back door, so that drowned out the circus outside. I sat next to my brother and stared at the dying flames in the fireplace.

When Evan got up, I made sure I didn’t fall over and watched silently as he threw one of those ready-to-burn logs into the fireplace with some regular wood and got the living room warm and cozy again.

We were sitting there quietly talking about Mom for some reason when the door swung open and Cord walked into the room. He looked strange: rumpled, eyes red-rimmed, and unshaven, which he never was. He crossed the floor to Evan and me and took a seat as he had earlier that night on the coffee table beside the couch, facing me.

“You look terrible.” I said dryly.

“I’ve been with Celia Hughes.”

“Why?” I asked him, concerned.

“Who’s Celia Hughes?” Evan asked before I shushed him.

“The cops guarding her found a car bomb rigged to her Lexus tonight.”

“Ohmygod,” I breathed, leaning forward to put my hand on his knee. “Is she okay?”

He let out a deep sigh and covered my hand with his own. “She’s no longer giving me shit about protective custody, I can tell you that.”

“Cord,” I pressed him, staring at him hard.

He nodded. “She’s fine, just scared.”

“Is the guy who just tried to break in—”

Cord cut me off. “No, he’s not the car-bomb guy. I don’t know who the hell this guy is outside, but he’s definitely small-time. No professional hit man fucks around for ten or fifteen minutes with a goddamn Home Depot chain lock. He comes in, shoots the dog, kills you, and he’s in and out without even waking up Alex. This was like having one of the Three Stooges come to kill you.”

“I was still scared,” I told him, my jaw clenching tight.

“I know you were scared, but between your dad’s fuckin’ monster dog and your trigger-happy brother, I don’t really think you were in any danger even for a second.”

“Is the guy dead?”

“No.”

“What was he doing here?”

“Someone hired him to deliver a dead rabbit.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Evan snapped at him.

Cord rubbed his eyes hard, scrubbing them with the heels of his palms before raking both hands hard through his short, thick dark-brown hair. “The guy outside was paid a grand to come over here, break in, and put a dead rabbit in a box on your living room table.”

“Why?”

“How Fatal Attraction is that?” Evan pointed out.

I couldn’t help smiling.

“It’s not fuckin’ funny!” Cord barked at me.