BooksBarbecue
Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

“I know you’re up here!” I called, my loud voice sounding strange in the empty house. It was so silent.

My trepidation only grew as I reached the landing, and my gaze flickered to the doorways before me. All other rooms were closed, but the bathroom and my bedroom were open.

“Come on, guys,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself. “Stop hiding! Do whatever it is you came here for and…” I fell silent as I peered into my room. Something had been written on my vanity mirror in red lipstick, the words unreadable until I got closer.

Time to pay up.

I laughed slightly, nervously. “Okay, really creepy! That better not be my fucking Mac lipstick.” I checked under my desk, then crouched down and checked under my bed.

The only place left was the closet. I stared at the closed door, my heart thumping in my ears. It was a game, just roleplay. But I still hesitated as I reached for the louvered door, trying to see into the darkness between the slats.

Slowly, I lowered myself to the ground. I pressed my cheek against the carpet, peering through the small gap under the door. It was so dark. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight, aiming it underneath.

Two pairs of boots stood on the other side.

I stood slowly, moving as if I had a grizzly bear standing directly in front of me. The door was pushed open, clattering slightly as it hit the wall. Manson and Lucas stood side by side, the tiny closet making them appear larger than life. Manson was wearing tight dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his arms folded as he watched me. Lucas’s tattooed chest was bare beneath his denim vest, his lean muscles tensing as he stepped forward.

Manson gripped his arm, fingers digging into his bicep. My eyes darted between them as Manson’s grin widened.

“You have three seconds before I let Lucas go,” he said. “How much ground can you cover in three seconds?”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed, locked on me. He was breathing fast, his stance eager.

“One.” Manson started the countdown.

How far could I go in three seconds? Not far enough.

“Two.”

Fight-or-flight kicked in despite my bravado with the magazine. My brain said run, so I ran, sprinting toward my door. Heart pounding, thoughts focused on only one goal — escape. But I still heard what Manson said next.

“Three. Get her.”

24

24

Jessica

I sprinted down the hall, their footsteps pounding right behind me. A hand brushed against my back as I ran down the stairs, but I was too quick. I grabbed the banister at the bottom and used it to swing myself toward the living room, but my feet slipped on the wooden floor and that mere second of hesitation gave Lucas the opportunity he needed.