Page 86 of Madden

Chapter Twenty-Four

Brielle

I don’t even register the first time I hear a bang when I step out of the shower. I drag the towel through my hair, listening closely to see if I can figure out the sound.

I quickly pull on my clothes. Madden left a few minutes before I got in the shower, leaving with Abel to go meet up with his lawyer about the paternity petition and restraining order.

I’m still trying to catch up on sleep. The days after I went home to New York were incredibly hard to get any rest at night. There were nights I’d lain awake and stared out the windows at the lights in the city, trying and failing to fall asleep.

Madden told me he’d be gone a little over an hour before he kissed my forehead.

I check the time on the clock when I hear another loud bang in the distance.

The noise causes my whole body to tense while I frantically search around the mattress for my phone before remembering I left it charging downstairs.

Dammit.

Madden had said yesterday that the replacement window needed to be specially ordered due to the size, and it wouldn’t be in until later this week. Maybe the plans changed, though, and they’re here early?

I quietly tiptoe across the room to where the door is left cracked open, straining my ears for any indication as to what the noise could’ve been.

I’m ready to shrug it off when I hear voices in the distance followed by a soft giggle. My body relaxes when I realize it sounds like Kyla. I reach for my cardigan I left on the chair next to the door and pull it on.

I make it to the top of the stairs when I hear muffled whispers followed by someone saying, “Hurry up. We don’t have a lot of time.”

I pause with my hand on the railing and glance over the side, checking to see if I can figure out who it is. It dawns on me then it’s not Kyla at all, but I have a sneaky suspicion I know who it is.

I quickly check over my shoulder, wrestling with myself as to what to do.

My smart watch vibrates with an alarm, reminding me of a video call with Sawyer in thirty minutes. I fumble quickly, pressing buttons to make it stop.

If Abel went with Madden, how did Hanna get in here without setting off the security system?

“He has jewelry in his room. A watch and a gold chain, at least, I’m not sure what else. I’ll go check upstairs. One of you finish loading up the guitar and drums. The other needs to go back into his office and figure out how we can get the safe out of here.”

My mouth drops open before she rushes down the hallway into the entryway, carrying a large white box. She sets it down near the door, and I quietly step backward away from the staircase, frantically searching for somewhere to hide.

She’s going to Madden’s room, and I have no way of alerting anyone since my phone is in the kitchen.

There’s a bathroom nearby, and I carefully open the door, trying to avoid any unnecessary sounds, and step inside, leaving it cracked so I’m able to hear where she is.

The steps creak as she rushes up them and passes by, heading down the hall toward Madden’s room. I wait, what feels like forever, until she’s gone, hoping to hurry and slip down the stairs.

As soon as I think the coast is clear, I pull the door open and hold my breath as I take the stairs. I’m not sure if the pounding is coming from somewhere in the house or the beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

I rush into the kitchen and pull my phone off the charger, frantically trying to unlock the screen to dial Madden’s number.

“Who the fuck are you?” a man growls from behind me. I twist my arm behind my back to hide it, dropping it onto the counter as I spin around.

I hold my hands up in the air when I hear the muffled voice coming from behind me, thanking God that I managed to click the call button right as he interrupted me.

“I don’t live here. I’m just visiting. You don’t have to worry about me. Take what you need, whatever you’re lookin’ for, and go. I won’t tell anyone you were here,” I say loudly, attempting to cover up Madden.

I cough, pretending to clear my throat, to disguise Madden shouting my name. I press my back against the counter, praying like hell the man doesn’t hear him.

He’s dressed in a pair of denim jeans that look like they’ve seen better days and a burgundy T-shirt with a pack of smokes stuffed in the front pocket. There’s a hole in the knee of his jeans and dried mud caked along the front. His boots are worn, much like his pants, as if he just got done pulling a long shift at work and came immediately over here after.

He chuckles low, reaching his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a walkie-talkie. He pushes the button on the side and lifts it to his mouth.