Page 99 of The Breakdown

She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to stay at the ranch, so she needed to make sure she paid her dues. Vaughn and June had helped her a lot in allowing her to stay and she wanted to do right by them. But doing so didn’t give her the answers she was seeking where Vaughn was concerned. She knew Vaughn didn’t want her to leave, but she couldn’t stay there forever. At some point she’d have to go, especially if Vaughn decided she didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her. It would just be too painful for her stay at that point, regardless of how much she loved the ranch and spending time with Vaughn and June. And then there was Allen. What was going to happen there? Detective Marks had told her he’d disappeared, but what did that mean for her?

Was he gone for good? Did he skip town? Was he finally in trouble for all his shady business dealings? Or worse, could he be coming for her?

“I’m being ridiculous. He wouldn’t come for me. Not with the cops looking so hard for him. It would be a crazy move.”

She switched off the bedroom light and walked into the kitchen to grab the box of vanilla tea from the cupboard. She wanted to make some for her and Vaughn tonight as they watched a movie together. It would pair nicely with the cinnamon rolls Vaughn had declared she wanted. Natalie had laughed, but agreed to make her some just as soon as she got back to the house. At least Vaughn was eating. And she hoped she’d eaten her dinner as well, but she wasn’t going to expect much there. Vaughn’s appetite had shrunk dramatically since she’d stopped doing all the physical work, and now, with her low moods, they were lucky to get her to eat at all.

Natalie reached for the tea and turned around, humming once again.

A soft knock came from the front door. She’d forgotten that she’d closed and locked it before her shower. It must be June wondering what was taking her so long. She walked to the door and unbolted it and opened it.

“Sorry, June, I—”

“Hello, Natalie,” Allen said, pointing a gun straight at her. He shoved her back inside before she even had a chance to let out a scream. When she tried, he struck her across the face and sent her sprawling.

“I wouldn’t make any noise if I was you.”

She touched her cheek where he’d hit her, the sting turning to a throb. She scrambled to get up, backing away from him, but not as afraid as she was angry. She stared at him, confused by his sloppy appearance. Allen, the man who had always prided himself on his dapper looks, was dressed in loose-fitting worn jeans, a fleece pullover, and dirty sneakers. His face was covered in a scruffy beard and his hair, which he usually wore slicked back with product, was longer and disheveled. Was this his disguise, or was something else going on? She guessed by the anger and rage she saw in his eyes, that it was the latter. He was losing his mind.

And now he had found her. This time, she knew, he would be merciless.

“Don’t,” she managed to say, “hit me again.”

He laughed and she glanced at the door behind him. He’d slammed it closed upon entry, but she usually left it open when she was in there working. Maybe June would notice. Maybe Vaughn would too if she grew worried about her. But the thought scared her more than comforted her. She didn’t want them exposed to Allen. He looked maniacal and he had a gun.

He followed her line of sight. “You opened the door for me, Natalie. Was that an invitation? I took it as one.”

He staggered as he followed her. She’d taken refuge behind the table, trying to get something between them. But the table, she knew, wouldn’t save her from a bullet. He swayed as he blinked watery eyes at her, the gun wavering as if it were too heavy for him.

He appeared to be drunk.

He yanked out a chair and collapsed into it. Then, with the gun in hand, he pointed at the chair in front of her. “Sit,” he demanded.

She thought briefly about making a beeline for the door, but he’d shoot her as she ran. She needed another plan. Slowly, she sat.

“Allen,” she tried.

“Shut up.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t I though? Natalie, baby, this is all I want to do.”

“That can’t be true. You have—”

“I have nothing!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “And it’s all because of you.”

A ball of fire settled behind her sternum. He was drunk, nearly falling down drunk, and he was angry. Not a good combination. Add the gun and she was in serious trouble. She searched for the right words. She had to stall him. Had to keep him talking.

He blinked slowly and set the gun on the table.

“I’m sorry,” she tried, thinking quickly. “I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

He chuckled. Slapped his leg and roared with laughter. “Trouble? That’s all you’ve given me, Natalie. And after I gave you everything.” He smacked the table. “Everything!”

He seemed to have exhausted himself because he quieted and spun the gun around on the tabletop with his finger.

“I know,” she said. “And I ruined it. I wasn’t…appreciative.”