Change of Heart (22 page)

“Get
down
!!” Rich hisses, grabbing me by the waist and nearly tackling me to the floor. A thrill shoots through me at having his body so close to mine, but it’s quashed by the nearly maddening panic twisting my insides into knots. “Stay there,” Rich says, and sneaks to the window to look outside. His head hovers above the sill for a moment. When he turns back, his face is drained of blood. “They’re here.”

“
Who
?” I demand with desperate fright.

“Tam and Victor. Amanda’s with them. She drove.” Rich looks around the room wildly, like a cornered animal. “Victor looks excited to get some revenge.”

“Holy shit,” I whimper. “What do we do? We’re trapped.”

Rich’s eyes focus on the hallway. I know an idea has formed in his mind. “Not yet,” he says. He rushes to me and takes my hand. “I promised I’d keep you safe. I don’t break my promises.”

***

We rush through the halls of Amanda’s enormous house. I fully expect Tam and Victor to pop up around every corner. For each one we pass that they don’t, I only become more uneasy. I know it’s just a matter of time.

Rich bursts into Amanda’s room and rips into her closet.

“What are you doing?” I say, aghast.

“Looking for something,” he replies. A leather jacket flies over his shoulder at me. I catch it. “Put that on. You’re going to need it.”

I shrug my shoulders into it, but I don’t understand. “Rich, hurry!” I urge. It might just be my imagination, but I think I can hear the front door opening. Mel begins to bark. “
Hurry!
”

“Got it,” he grunts. He’s holding a ring of keys in one hand. He looks at me for a moment, then bursts out in a grin as if nothing at all is wrong. “That jacket suits you.”

Before I can answer, he grabs my hand and runs so fast I nearly fall as I try to match his long strides. He leads me through a back room, down a flight of stairs, and into the cellar.

“Rich, we’re trapped down here!” I exclaim, terrified. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Lock the door,” he tells me. “Brace it. We can’t have them breaking in before we’re ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Just go!”

I scramble to the door and slam it shut. I think I can hear footsteps above us. I look around desperately for something to put against the door. There’s a shelf of preserves beside me. I heave it down with all my strength. It crashes to the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” Rich screams. “Why not announce to them we’re down here a little louder next time, huh?”

“Sorry,” I say, abashed. He’s right to get angry, though. It’s just—well, I’ve never had experience with these types of situations before!

I shove the shelf toward the door. Every inch it moves seems to sap half my strength. By the time it’s in place, there’s not a muscle left in my body that isn’t burning. I can
definitely
hear footsteps above us now. Mel’s barking continues, audible even through the floor.

I hear a resounding clang of metal striking metal behind me. I spin around. Rich is standing in front of a locked shed. I hadn’t noticed it before. I have no idea why it’s here.

Rich raises something over his head, and brings it down against the lock. Another metallic clang echoes through the room. A flash of light lets me see that Rich is attacking the lock with a fire axe.

My eyes dart over the cellar. I notice something hanging on the far wall. I run to it, grab it from its hook, and hand it to Rich. “Here.”

Rich turns. “What?” Then he sees the shape in my hands. “Bolt cutters. Where did you find these?”

“I can be handy in a tight spot.” I show him all my teeth.

“I’m beginning to learn that.” He takes the cutters from me, flexes them against the thinnest part of the lock, and presses down hard. The metal snaps with a
twang
.

Rich throws the doors of the shed open. Inside are two dirt bikes. I look at him incredulously. “Bikes? That’s your grand plan?”

“We’ll take the trails behind the house,” Rich says. He surprises me by slamming the fire axe into the tires of one of the bikes. “There’s no way they’ll be able to follow us in a car.”

“How did you know the bikes were here?”

“They belong to Amanda’s brothers.”

“Great,” I say, seeing one glaring flaw in his plan. “And how do you propose we get out of the cellar?”

Rich points over my shoulder. I glance back—and feel like a complete idiot. There’s another set of stairs leading to a pair of those horizontal basement doors. I can see the puddle of water beneath it from the rain.

Rich grins and sticks one of the keys into the bike. The engine roars to life. “Open those doors,” he tells me, “and get on.”

Chapter
Twelve

I cling to Rich’s body as the bike flies over the uneven forest ground. Rich maneuvers over the trails like he’s been off-roading his whole life. Maybe he has. I still know very little about him.

I feel like I’ve been caught in some bad action movie. But the constant pounding of blood in my ears tells me this is real. The wind stinging my eyes tells me this is real. Rich’s hard body in front of me tells me this is real. And the fact that my heart leaps to my throat every time the bike lifts into the air tells me this is very, very real.

Rich slows down after half an hour. We’re deep in the woods, so the trees are keeping the worst of the rain off. “I don’t think they’re following us,” he says.

“That’s a relief,” I sigh.

“You can let go now, by the way.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “You’re squeezing so tight I can barely breathe.” His eyes flicker to mine. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I unknot my arms from around his waist, and find them stiff and cramped. I flex them a few times at the elbow to work some circulation back. “Now what?”

“Now, we continue on.”

***

Hours later, we’re riding along an empty stretch of highway. Rich had found a trail that led out of the forest and connected to the main roads. The rain had let up recently. Before doing so, however, it had soaked my leather jacket so much it feels like I am carrying a carcass on my shoulders.

I see the lights of a town coming up in the distance. More cars start to pass us. Rich takes an exit and drives through the streets before pulling into a half-empty parking lot. There’s a small, dark building in one corner. A sign hangs over the door:
The Blackbear Pub.

“What are we doing here?” I ask as I swing my legs off the motorcycle.

“Food,” Rich replies. “Warmth. Information. I have to figure out where we are. Come on.”

When he opens the doors, a blast of hot air greets me. Hot air, loud music, and hundreds of overlapping voices. It had been impossible to tell from outside, but this place is packed.

Rich doesn’t wait for the hostess. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. We go straight to the bar. There are a pair of empty stools near the corner. We take them.

The bartender is a long-legged, bubbly blonde with a fake tan, fake boobs, and fake lashes. She darts over as soon as she sees Rich. “What can I get for you, honey?” she drawls in a lilting, Southern accent that she probably thinks is sexy.

I roll my eyes. I don’t think she even realizes Rich and I came together. Well, I’ve dealt with her kind in California plenty of times before.

“
Two
burgers,” Rich says, making a point of looking my way before turning his attention back to the bartender. “And two Guinesses. No.” He shakes his head. “Wait. We’re going to need something stronger than that. Get me a Three Wise Men. And a Dry Manhattan, on the rocks.” He winks at me. “Right?”

“Yeah,” I say, surprised that he remembers the drink I had ordered the night we’d met. Most guys don’t pay attention to things like that.

“Sure,” the blonde says. The smile she gives us becomes as fake as the rest of her. Realizing Rich didn’t come here alone seems to have dampened her enthusiasm.

We get our drinks soon after. Rich empties the shooter in a single swig and slams the glass back on the table. He turns to me. “I’m going to go scope out the place a bit. Get a feel for the kind of people in town. See if I can find us a room for the night. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ve done just fine my whole life before you showed up.” I didn’t mean for my words to sound scathing, but that’s how they come out. “I think I’ll manage.”

Rich grunts, opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something… then clicks his jaw shut and disappears into the crowd.

I’m left alone to nurse my drink. The food comes a few minutes later. It’s greasy and fattening and cheap, and I know I’ll regret eating it later, but right now it’s the only comfort I have.

I look over my shoulder to see if I can spot Rich. But, I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe I should apologize when he returns. I take a long sip of my Manhattan.
After all, it’s not just me who’s gone through a lot of stress lately,
I remind myself.

A hand on the small of my back alerts me to his presence. “Rich, I…”

The words die on my tongue as I turn around.

The man standing behind me is not Rich. He’s shorter, for one, and his hair is the color of ash, for another. He’s not clean-shaven as Rich usually is, either. Maybe half a week of stubble lines his cheeks and chin, but the spot above his lip is bare. His hair is cropped up in a messy faux-hawk. He’s wider than Rich, too. From where I’m sitting the added girth looks to be all muscle, not fat.

“All alone?” the stranger muses in a deep, rumbling bass. He speaks slowly and quietly, like he’s got everything under control. Somehow, his words are clear over the boisterous sounds of the bar. “I noticed you sitting alone for a good ten minutes. A woman as stunning as you should not be left by herself for that long.” He lowers his voice and leans in to whisper in my ear, “There are sharks around.”

I’m tempted to laugh in his face. “Stunning”? With my soaked jacket, wind-blown hair, and lips greasy from the burger? Either this guy’s got the world’s biggest beer-goggles on, or he’s making an
extremely
misguided effort to ingratiate himself to me.

Were it not for the alcohol hitting my bloodstream, I probably would have laughed, too. Instead, I decide to humor him.

“If there are sharks around,” I say, “then what does that make you?”

He laughs as he slides smoothly into Rich’s spot. His hand doesn’t leave my back. “My dear,” he confides, “I am the biggest one of all.”

I find myself grinning at his remark. I bring the straw to my lips and take a sip to give myself time to look him over. He’s got a good face, I decide, if somewhat ordinary. I can tell from his body that he takes care of himself. His manner is cool and confident. His words are clear, and his eyes are sharp, which means he didn’t rely on liquid courage to come talk to me. That’s a big plus in my book.

The man reaches up and touches a strand of hair beside my face. The warmth of the back of his hand against my cheek sends an unexpected thrill through me. “You know,” he says, “I would not ordinarily say something like this, but your hair…” he pauses to meet my gaze, “…and your eyes… remind me very much of a girl I loved a long time ago. The only one I have ever been able to love.”

“What a shame to have loved only once,” I play along. This might be the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend. “She must have broken your heart quite badly for you to refuse to allow anyone else in.”

His expression fills with sorrow. “She hurt me, it’s true,” he chokes. His hand shifts a fraction of an inch to brush lightly against my cheek. “But I would do it all again if it gave me the chance to meet someone as beautiful as you.”

This time, I can’t hold in my laughter. The man looks completely taken aback. “Does that
ever
work?” I ask, trying not to choke on my drink.

He recovers quickly, and grins easily at me. “You tell me. It’s the first time I’ve ever tried such an elaborate approach.” He lifts his hand to his forehead in a gesture of exaggerated sorrow. “Woe is me! I am in possession of a broken heart, and only your love can make it whole again!” He brings his hand down, smiles, and winks. “Et cetera, et cetera.”

I laugh. Not at him, but
with
him. I like his sense of humor. And he’s got the confidence to back it up. “What’s your name?” I ask. “I’m P—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

I spin around to find Rich glaring at the man I had been talking to. He looks just about ready to kill him. That means I’ve pissed him off. Good. It’s no more than he deserves for pushing me away so crudely back at Amanda’s garage.

“Oh, hello, Rich,” I say, my voice all dewy innocence. “I was just having a pleasant conversation with a new friend. This is…”

“Kevin,” the man says casually, holding out a hand toward Rich. “Nice to meet you, bro.”