It had been six weeks since Rick had received the most recent payment from Becca. He needed more soon. Most of what she’d sent him last time was already gone.
He’d used up most of what he’d had in the bank to pay off his various debts to the creditors he owed. And yet he still owed more to people it was dangerous not to pay back on time—with interest—for his gambling and spending habits.
He scrolled through the latest story he’d found about her on social media. She was reportedly filming something not far from where he currently was.
He stopped when he reached a picture of her, felt a hitch in his chest. She looked so much like Sofia had at that age.
The sight of her simultaneously inflamed and infuriated him. That cool smile. The fake sense of superiority.
She might think she was better than everyone, better than him, but he knew the truth. And it filled him with rage that she thought she was above him. Living large while he was forced to work for assholes who paid him as little as they could. Taunting him with her smug fucking smile from the photo.
Well, he could have her if he wanted. Last year he’d paid a lot of money to find out where she lived, and she was still there. Now it was time to do something with that information.
With the fucking insane traffic, it took him over an hour to drive north to her neighborhood in Santa Monica. He would never live here permanently because of it.
When he pulled up in front of her house, he was shocked. From the images he’d been sent on it, the place had looked mediocre. But seeing it in person was something else.
The modest, two-story stucco house was like every other house on the tree-lined street. The kind of place middle-class, working parents would live in while they raised a couple of kids.
Not the home of a famous movie star.
He drove past it, taking a good look from the road without being too obvious in case anyone was watching, trying to get an idea of what sort of security she had. Shit, it didn’t even have a gate. Just a six-foot-tall privacy hedge between her and the neighboring houses.
Not at all what he’d expected someone of her stature would own.
Turning the corner, he drove up a block and parked along the curb. Hat and sunglasses on, he got out and doubled back down the sidewalk. There was hardly anyone out at the moment. A woman jogging opposite him down the street, and an old man walking his dog.
Rick turned back down Becca’s street and studied the area carefully as he approached the house. There was no car in her driveway. He spotted a security system sticker in the window. That was it.
He frowned. Was this really her place? It didn’t feel right. Not at all.
He couldn’t see any security cameras mounted on the front of the house, but she had to have some. There was no one else around, so he went up the three front steps to the door.
A yellow, legal-sized envelope was sticking out from beneath the mat. He lifted the edge of it with his shoe to read the name on it.
Becca Sandoza.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself, and went back down the steps to look around more.
A wooden gate blocked off the backyard—unlocked. He lifted the latch and it opened into a small yard with a tidy lawn and a flower border that looked professionally maintained against the back fence. A small patio sat off the French doors at the back of the house. Palm trees were clustered around it, a hammock strung between two of the trunks.
There were floodlights back here, and he spotted two security cameras. But still nothing like he’d expected. Shit, unless there was some upgraded, hidden system inside, he could easily bypass this.
Avoiding the cameras’ range, he hugged the foundation of the house and paused to look through a window on the first floor. It was open a few inches, but locked from the inside. Still, through the gap at the edge of the curtains he could see inside to what must be the living room.
His gaze cut right to the framed photo of Becca and Sofia sitting on the mantelpiece. He clenched his jaw, staring a hole through Sofia’s smiling face. It must have been taken fairly recently. She’d aged, but she was still beautiful, and the sight of her still haunted him. Still a beautiful, traitorous whore.
Without him, she would have been nothing. She would have died, and her precious daughter tossed into foster care.
He’d put a roof over their heads, put up with the brat’s whining when she was little, because Sofia was the best product he’d ever owned. He hadn’t expected to fall in love with her.
And then she’d left him for dead and taken off with the kid he’d housed, fed and clothed for almost a decade.
He wrenched his eyes from the picture and took another look at the back of the house. It was more private back here than anywhere else on the property. The neighbors were less likely to notice him here. And from what he could see, this downstairs window was his easiest point of entry into the house.
Even if she set the alarm when she was home, it didn’t matter. He would still have lots of time to get out if he triggered it while breaking in.
I can get to you anytime I want.
Power surged through him, mixing with the hatred burning in his soul. She’d almost ruined him all those years ago, by taking Sofia from him.
He’d always known that women were lying, deceitful and manipulative bitches. But he’d never imagined a thirteen-year-old girl could do so much damage.
He was finally making her pay for it. But it wasn’t enough. He would make her pay with more than just money.
She’d taunted him for too long. Tonight he would show her what happened to those who crossed him.
****
Becca tapped her toes on the living room rug, antsy and restless. She’d been waiting to hear back about a dream project for a while now, and the silence was driving her nuts.
She called her agent. “Hey, Janet. Any word from Pixar yet on a casting decision?” She had done an audition reel for an animated character in a feature film they were doing, and had been on pins and needles about the part ever since.
“Sorry, no,” Janet said. “I’ll call my contact there this afternoon and nudge him. See if he can give me a ballpark anyway.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. And if you hear of any other voice work that might fit, let me know.”
“I will.”
“Good.” This animated feature was a dream project. She loved the script, the vision. The other actors being offered roles were people she’d been dying to work with, and hell, this was Pixar they were talking about. Whatever shit she was dealing with in her personal life due to Rick, she sure could use the extra income.
“Anyway, it’s Saturday night and we’re both working at home. We’re lame.”
Becca laughed. “I cherish my downtime and guard it jealously.”
“Don’t I know this. So, who’s your hot date for tonight, Netflix or Acorn?”
“Charlotte Bronte, actually. I’m just starting Jane Eyre.”
Janet laughed. “You’re a wild one. Definitely my most difficult client, always causing trouble and getting in the tabloids.”
“I know, right? You must be sick of me.”
“Nah, you help keep me sane. Well, enjoy your book. I’ll contact you once I hear anything.”
Becca ended the call, put on the kettle to make a cup of chamomile tea, then carried it up to her bedroom. She changed into her comfiest pajamas, slipped on a plush robe, and stretched out on the tufted velvet chaise lounge tucked in the corner to read.
Her imagination turned the descriptions into vivid images of the windswept Yorkshire moors. She could feel the cold breath of the wind, smell the heather on it as she stood poised in front of the Thornfield Hall, an ominous foreboding taking hold…
A sound broke her concentration. She looked up, then stilled, wondering if she’d only imagined something coming from downstairs a few seconds ago.
She’d set the alarm when she’d come in the door, but then she’d gone outside into the backyard for a bit. Had she locked those doors when she’d come back in?
Unsettled, she got up and started for the door. Two steps from it, the alarm blared.
She jumped, a cry locking in her throat. Shit, had someone broken in?
Turning, she raced back to the window where she’d left her phone on the sill, her hands shaking as she quickly dialed 911. Before it could connect, the alarm company called her.
“Miss Sandoza, are you all right?”
She grabbed the two halves of her robe near the neckline and clutched them together, heart thudding against her ribs, her gaze fixed on her closed bedroom door. “Yes, but I think someone just broke into my house.” She didn’t have a weapon.
“Okay, I’m dispatching the police now. Stay calm, and stay on the line with me.”
“I—” She broke off, whirling to face the window when shouts came from the front of her house.
“Hey!” someone yelled as a shadowy silhouette raced across her front lawn and out of view down the sidewalk. A second later, a man appeared on her driveway, phone to his ear.
“Miss Sandoza? What’s happening?”
Becca relayed what she’d seen, willing her heart to slow down. Whoever it had been was halfway up the block by now.
Someone pounded on her front door moments later, sending another wave of fear through her until she reasoned that anyone wanting to break in wasn’t going to knock first.
“Becca? Becca, it’s Rob from next door.”
“My neighbor’s at the door,” she said to the woman on the other end of the phone.
“Stay on the line with me.”
“I will.” Her legs were a little rubbery as she left her room and cautiously started down the stairs, searching for any sign of an intruder. After checking the peephole to make sure it was her neighbor standing there, she opened the door and put a hand to her chest, allowing herself her first deep breath. “Hi.”
His gaze swept over her in concern before scanning the room behind her. He was in his mid-fifties, balding, and judging by the bat in his hands and the look on his face, he was prepared to do battle for her. “You okay?”
“Yes. The alarm scared him off. Did you see him?”
“Not really, just got a quick glimpse. The cops on the way?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll stay with you until they get here.”
Becca let him in and shut the door, letting out a deep breath. Tonight had convinced her what she’d already known inside. The neighborhood she loved was no longer safe for her.
A buzz from her phone startled her. And when she read the message, sudden tears stung her eyes.
I need more money. By Friday night. 300k this time.
Shit, now she desperately needed to find a way to make more money—in a hurry.
More than that, she wanted to escape this hell she was trapped in.