A Wifey for the Bad Boy(30)

“Well, what is it then?”

She crossed her arms, her gaze shifting. “Are…there any ghosts here?” When he didn’t respond right away, she reluctantly looked back at him.

He was frowning at her, his eyelids lowering as exasperation got the better of him. “No.”

“Do people normally break into this place?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“There might be something in my room.”

“It’s probably that boyfriend of yours.”

“It’s not! It could be a specter of some sort. This is an old building, and I don’t care what you think…ghosts might exist!” She bit her lower lip to keep herself from saying anything more. Despite the chill of her earlier fear remaining deep in her bones, she felt childish for proclaiming such things. She may as well be telling this man that there are monsters under her bed.

“Ghosts exist,” he said. “Just not here. I would have told you.”

She snorted. “I doubt that. Then you wouldn’t have two more tenants.”

“I would have gotten by. There are other people here. Now go to bed already, for God’s sake—” He shook his head and slammed the door shut, his indistinguishable mutters humming through the door.

Rage and humiliation flared within Melinda’s torso. Clenching her teeth, she breathed heavily through her nose as she turned and stormed down the hallway. The floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet, but with her anger distracting her, she barely noticed the creepiness of the sound. She didn’t even notice Travis when she stomped her way downstairs, to her basement-room.

“Where were you?!” he howled.

Melinda screamed, falling back against the stairs and instinctively covering her chest. She shook violently as her widened eyes stared at Travis, who was swaying in their kitchenette. She breathed, “Travis, you scare—”

“Where were you?!” he repeated, his legs wobbling as he made his sluggish way over to her.

She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Good God, you’re drunk.” She rubbed at the aching flesh over her heart. “Is that what you’ve been doing tonight? I thought you had to work.”

“Answer me,” he said, grabbing her arms and squeezing tightly.

“Ow!” Melinda winced, pulling against his grip. “You’re hurting me.”

“You cheating on me?”

“What?”

He shook her, his face twisting into an ugly expression of fury. “You cheating on me?! While I work for you?!”

“No! Let go of me!” She grabbed his wrists and nearly managed to pull him off of her. His nails dug into her skin though, preventing her from escaping fully. “Travis, stop it.” Panic took hold of her once again, making her cold and sick while pain burned beneath the new scratches on her arms. “Please.”

“You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not!”

He shoved her against the staircase, her back landing at an excruciating angle. She bit back a cry, her limbs already scrambling for purchase on the uneven ground. The only thought running through her brain was “run, run, run.”

“I saw you,” Travis said, slobbering over the words. He grabbed her again and yanked her down. “I saw you at the bar!”

“I wasn’t at the bar! You’re drunk!”

“Don’t lie to me!” He smacked her across the face.

Melinda’s cheek and eyes stung, disbelief numbing her. How could she have let her life become such a mess? She never thought herself foolish before, just adventurous. Trembling now, trapped in Travis’s clutches, self-loathing choked her as fear shattered her temporary numbness. God, she was a moron for letting this happen. She was—

“Hey! Get off of her!”

Melinda tensed, her gaze snapping upward. The words had been roared from the top of the stairs, and now she could see some large person hurrying down them.

“Make me!” Travis sneered, right before the person—Mr. Kane—leaped from the stairs and tackled Travis to the ground.

Melinda gasped, falling to the side and hitting her elbow on a step. Forgetting about her own pain, she blinked owlishly at the sight before her: Mr. Kane and Travis were punching one another, though Mr. Kane was moving more quickly and more precisely than Travis. It didn’t take long for Mr. Kane to strike the winning blow to the other man’s throat.

Travis grabbed his throat, his eyes wide and pink. He wheezed and backed away.

Mr. Kane panted. His broad shoulders were tensed, his hands curled into fists. “Get out,” he growled, stepping toward Travis. “And don’t you dare come back.”