Intrigue (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 27

"Mirza?"

Seeing his face scowling at her through the window seemed almost as incongruous as the large gun pointed at her through the glass.

Olivia didn't wait for the picture to make sense. She debated for all of two nanoseconds whether to climb into the rafters and hide, or get the hell out of there, before spinning around towards the front door. She lunched as the entryway behind her exploded. She never heard the discharge of the gun, but splintered wood and flying glass were bombardment enough to send her tearing through the house.

"I want that journal. I know you found it."

What happened to the timid guy who'd been to shy and afraid to talk to her?

She reached the thick oak Doors, original to the building. Beautiful to look at, heavy and wraped and unwieldy enough for olivia to curse their fine craftsmanship. She twisted the lock open and tugged at the crossbar. "Come on!"

"Be the smart little girl I know you are and give me the journal!" Mirza kicked out the jagged glass and reached inside to unlock the door. "I'll make sure your death is swift and painless."

"How about I just don't die at all!" The heavy oak groaned as olivia scraped the crossbar across its moorings. Heavy footsteps coming up fast behind her spurred her strength. Olivia smacked into the door as the crossbar popped free and her momentum threw her forward. Pretending the blow to her head wasn't ringing threw her entire skull, she swung open the door and ran out into the hazy twilight.

"That journal is mine!" Mirza thundered after her. "I worked too hard to get it."

Olivia circled around the house, avoiding the windows and sticking to the spreading shadows. She didn't know if she was heading for a neighbours house or the open street or a place to hide. She only knew she had to get the journal someplace safe.

"I only played stupid so I could get close to you. I sent you flowers and letters and copied all of Fierro's bad habits so that the cops would focus their attention on him. We knew you had access to Presley's journal. I just had to stay close until you found it."

We? Mirza and Tony were in those together? No. He was in competition with Tony Fierro, using her association with the ex-con to terrorise her so completely that Mirza could sneak into her world unnoticed. He had access to deliver those flowers, that letter.

So who was the we he was talking about?

Survive first. Think later.

Olivia ducked behind one of McCarthy's generators and wondered if Mirza could hear her deep, labored breathing. Think, olivia. Think. She didn't need to bring a man with a gun into any of her neighbour's houses. She didn't have a car yet. Where did she run? Where could she hide?

"I know you're alone, olivia." Mirza footsteps crunched on the hand-packed dirt. "I waited until that cop and your aunts left. I know your boyfriend isn't here."

The lumber.

Before Mirza and his gun rounded the corner, olivia scooted between the stacks of wood waiting to become the second floor to her house. Needing to arm herself, she pried at one of the boards. The long piece jiggled but refused to budge.

The footsteps stopped.

Olivia caught her breath and held it, desperately trying to get a fix on Mirza's position through the pulse beat pounding in her ears. So much for arming herself. So much for running. She straightened her back against the lumber and slowly inched her way to the corner. Back... back...

A hand closed over her mouth, muffling olivia's scream as a man pulled her around the corner. He pushed her against the lumber, wrapping his body around her like a cocoon. She recognised Elvis by Scent alone, even before she heard him whisper.

"Shh. It's me, Honey."

But Mirza had already heard the yip of sound and was closing in.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And thanks so much for reading! xoxo