Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Jesus," Harry winced, cupping a hand over his ear and throwing his legs off the coffee table. Meatloaf jumped off his lap with a yelp. "Shut the fuck up, will you?"

My throat was raw as I finally quieted down, mouth still parted in shock. "Why are you in my apartment?"

Harry didn't respond. He rolled his eyes, taking a long inhale of his cigarette, tipping his head toward the ceiling as he blew out the smoke. My eyes flitted back over to the coffee table, where his gun was just casually sitting out.

"Harry," I hissed. "What the fuck, why are you in my apartment?"

He shot me a glare. "I told you I was coming back today."

"Okay, yeah!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You said you were coming back, not breaking in, asshole!" My body was back to feeling all numb and tingly with fear – how I usually felt whenever he was around. "I mean, what the hell! How did you even get in?"

"That's what I fucking mean," was his only grumbled, ambiguous response. "If I can break in, anyone can."

"No one's usually trying to break in!" I managed through gritted teeth; hands balled at my sides.

Harry just muttered something under his breath, standing up and stretching with an exaggerated groan. "Been waiting here almost all fuckin' day, Christ." He walked over to the kitchen, brushing against my shoulder as he passed, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette in the sink. "Your cat is a goddamn nuisance. Wouldn't stop crawling all over me–"

"Leave Meatloaf alone."

"He wouldn't leave me alone," Harry snapped.

"She," I corrected.

I still hadn't moved from my spot in the doorway, too nervous to even take a step forward. Harry seemed to have that effect on me – I was always frozen, feeling completely out of my wits when I was with him.

"Whatever," he muttered, eyeing me up and down for a few seconds before yanking my fridge door open. "Eat something. We have to leave soon."

My mouth fell open once more. Where yesterday the fridge had only contained a quarter carton of eggs and half a jar of cold peanut butter, today there was food covering every open shelf. It was nearly overflowing as Harry held it open.

"Did you–did you do that?" I turned to look at the man still glaring daggers at me.

"Anyone else broken into your fuckin' apartment lately?" He asked flatly.

I didn't say anything for a few seconds, unable to tear my eyes away from all of the food, somehow still trying to convince myself it was real. There had to be at least a hundred dollars' worth of groceries in there.

When I finally looked back at him, I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

Harry had already sauntered back over to the living room. I tried not to balk as he tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans. His back was to me as he muttered, "Just fucking eat something quick. We have to go." When I didn't immediately respond, Harry turned around and huffed an irritated breath through his nose. "You just gonna stand there? I didn't poison it, if that's what you're fuckin' concerned about. If I did, your stupid sack of flesh would be dead by now."

"My what?" My eyes widened. These were the words that finally convinced me to move, my legs working their way across my apartment in record time as I dropped to my stomach in front of the couch in search of Meatloaf. "My cat?! Harry, what the fuck did you feed her? She can only have certain foods, her digestive tract is all fucked–"