Page 8 of Vandal Unbound

DAISY

Get the fuck away from that door.

I don’t know who the voice belongs to, and I’m definitely not opening the door to find out. I consider for the briefest moment peeping through the curtains that close off the front window to the outside, but I’m concerned Chris might take the opportunity to smash the window to get to me.

When Annie, my boss, said I could rent this place from her at a discount, I wish I’d known I’d be living two doors down from a drug den before I agreed. Worse, I wish I hadn’t been polite on moving day last week. Chris offered a borderline creepy, weed-scented introduction, and I should have known when I shook his damp, limp hand that this wouldn’t end well.

My neighbor shared with me that Chris and his roommates use and deal in stronger drugs. Meth. Cocaine. Bath salts, which I’m guessing isn’t the same kind my grandma used to have in a box on the side of her bathtub.

But someone with a masculine voice has told Chris to step away from my door, and I blow out a breath of relief because, for now, the hammering has stopped.

“It’s gonna be okay, Els.” I glance over to where my young daughter is peering around the tiny kitchen island and press a hand to my sternum in an attempt to convince my heart it doesn’t need to beat its way out of my chest.

Through the tears, she tries to smile, even as her jaw shakes.

I peer closer through the peephole on the front door. This apartment doesn’t have much, but at least it has this one tiny safety precaution.

“Daisy, let me in,” Chris says, stepping forward to hammer on the door again in a move that makes us both jump. “There’s an idiot out here.”

“Tell him to go away,” Elsie whispers from her hiding spot. Little hands cover her ears, and the chaotic blonde curls she inherited from me flop around her face.

For someone who just turned five, Elsie has seen more than her fair share of trouble and loss already. She used to ask where her father is, and I was vague.He had to go away. It’s just us now.I’m sure at some point in the future, she’ll want a better answer. And only when she’s old enough to understand will I tell her. But it’s the reason I haven’t called the police.

Technically, we’re missing persons who want to remain missing. Calling the police will make us found, and we can’t afford that.

“I said leave us alone,” I shout.

Through the peephole, I see Chris looking to his left, the color draining from his face as he cricks his neck upwards at whoever is walking toward him.

“You got a problem with your hearing skills?” the voice says. “Because she made it very clear she doesn’t want you here.”

And then I see him.

There’s no indication where the biker came from. I know he’s a biker because I’ve seen a leather motorcycle club cut before.Not that I have any biker friends, but I also haven’t been living under a rock for the last twenty-eight years.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

The man is huge. Not bulky, but strong. Maybe it’s the fishbowl peephole, but it looks as though he’d have to duck to get through the doorframe.

“Just…talkin’…to her,” Chris offers weakly.

But the biker’s arm is out so fast, Chris doesn’t see it coming. The hand around Chris’s neck pushes him back to the balcony until he’s arching painfully over it.

“Yeah,” the biker says as Chris frantically claws at his wrist and arm. “Not any fucking more you aren’t.”

“Who the heck…?” I mutter as I watch the biker confidently manhandle Chris, even as he shifts his attempts to break free to the biker’s hands and face. My heart is in my mouth, because it’s clear whoever my protector is that he’d have absolutely zero qualms letting Chris drop onto the dumpsters below.

Maybe the lid is open and he can die in there with the rest of the unit’s garbage that already smells like death on hot days anyway.

“What’s happening, Momma?” Elsie says. She’s cowering back there, even though I told her to go lock herself in the bathroom. I wanted her to go so I could grab the knife out of the drawer and hold it close in case Chris broke in.

But doing that while she’s sitting there, her knees tucked up beneath her chin, would only terrify her more.

“A man is standing up for us and telling Chris to go back to his apartment. It’s going to be okay, baby.”

At least, I hope it will be.

Elsie jumps to her feet. “He came.”