Dead Running (21 page)

“Hope I’m not the subject of your angry murmuring,” a very masculine voice said from much too close behind me.

I flipped over onto my haunches, staring up into the warmest brown eyes. “Jesse.” My sweat production tripled at the smile he bestowed upon me until I remembered that I’d almost put him and my desire to be around him out of my mind the last time I was with Damon. I forced myself to frown. “What do you want?”

Jesse reached out a hand. I couldn’t resist placing my hand in his and marveling that I could still tremble from his touch through a dirty glove. He lifted me to my feet then released my hand. Being on his level did nothing to diminish his attractiveness. “I just saw you out in the yard and thought I’d say hi.”

I slowly pulled off my garden gloves, tossed them on the ground, and folded my arms in front of me. Defensive stance. That should stop him from smiling at me like that. “I don’t like you,” I informed him.

His eyes lost their warmth, but the smile stayed in place. His muscled tattoos flexed as he clenched both hands at his sides. “Why not?”

“You show up whenever you want to say ‘hi’, you claim to be protecting me, yet you never stay around long enough for me to get to know you.”

Jesse’s brows lifted. His grin reached his gaze again. He tilted his head to the side. “Forgive me?” he asked, wiping a smudge of dirt from my cheek.

I scowled deeper as my cheek hummed from his touch. Just being around him made me want to forgive anything he did wrong for the next twenty years. “I’ll forgive you when we start dating.”

Jesse slowly shook his head. “Cassidy. I wish I could explain. Each chance I have to see you is great. You make me laugh and you make me . . .” he smiled and winked, but didn’t finish his thought. “But I can’t be with you right now. If I were able to date you, I would be pounding on your door every night.”

Good to know that he actually liked me, but his answer was just confusing. “What kind of a stupid excuse is that?”

He ignored my question and took a step closer. “Are you doing all right? Has anyone bothered you?”

The sun’s singeing rays couldn’t warm me enough. I shivered, not wanting to dwell on our last conversation, when he’d basically revealed to me that no one could protect me. “N-no.”

Jesse studied every inch of my soul. I squirmed and picked at the dirt under my fingernails. It was obvious we were both hiding something. I wished I trusted him enough to ask and tell.

“If you aren’t interested in anything happening between us,” I whispered, “please leave.”

Jesse’s warm fingers lifted my chin until I was forced to meet his dark eyes. “I wish things could be different,” he said. He took a quick step, bent down, and brushed his lips over mine before I could think to protest. A searing joy shot through my body. My lips felt branded, like I belonged to Jesse and would never be the same if he didn’t do that to me continually.

He stepped away, but his eyes held me captive. “I’ll see you soon, Cassidy.”

I couldn’t even formulate a goodbye as he turned and strode away.

“So that’s it then,” I muttered several minutes later, still standing in the same spot and dreaming of him reappearing. “No promises. No spilling of the guts. Just kisses me and makes me want him then walks away.” I fell onto my knees and ferociously attacked the morning glory. I shouldn’t have told Jesse I didn’t like him. I should’ve told him the truth. I loathed him.

I danced through Nana’s house with a dust rag in one hand and a bottle of Pledge in the other, sweeping dust off surfaces like Cinderella. Nana was at the grocery store and I was under strict instructions to “clean the pigsty without doing a half-A job.” Which basically meant I got to turn U2 up loud and spray lots of cleanerthank heavens for failing eyesight.

“I still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” I sang along with Bono until I registered the phone ringing through the blaring music. Dashing around each room, I finally spotted the cordless in the kitchen. I grabbed the phone and pushed the talk button. “Hello,” I yelled to be heard over the music.

Some words came across the line but I couldn’t understand them. I sprinted to the stereo and clicked off the power. “Sorry. The music was too loud. Shall we try that again? Hello. You’ve reached the Christensen residence. How may I help you this fine day?”

A muffled man’s voice demanded, “Who is this?”

Taken aback by the abrupt response to my good humor, I said, “This is Cassidy Christensen. Who the crap is this?”

“C-Cassie,” the man stuttered my name with something akin to reverence.

“That’s right. I’m Cassie.” I lifted some nick-knacks off of a low shelf and swiped my rag across the cherry wood. “With whom am I speaking?”

“Are you all right, Cassie?”

I was so sick of that question. No one could protect me, but everyone wanted to know if I was all right. “Uh-huh. Fabulous. Who
is
this?”

“Is your grandmother there?” The man obviously didn’t want to reveal himself.
           
“No, she’s at the store.” The guy’s voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then it hit me. “Uncle John?”

“Yes,” the voice grew stronger. “This is your Uncle John. How are you, Cassie? Are you truly okay?”

“Not dead yet.”

Uncle John inhaled so quickly there was a small snort. I couldn’t tell if he laughed or thought I was nuts.

“I’ve recently taking up running,” I informed him. Resting the phone in the crook of my neck I sprayed a side table in the kitchen with Pledge.

“Running? That’s wonderful.”

Wonderful
? The voice sounded like my self-centered uncle, but I’d never heard him call anything wonderful. I attacked the surface with my rag. “Hey, you’d better come see Nana, she’s worried about your latest girlfriend choice. Seems the plastic surgery overload raised some concerns about how ‘genuine’ she is.”

“Cassie, are you sure you’re okay? No one’s tried to hurt you or threaten you?”

My heart slammed into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe for a second. Finally, I whispered, “How do you know about that?” I dropped my cleaning supplies onto the table. “Is this really Uncle John?”

“Cassie. I need to know you’re safe. What happened? Did the men hurt you?”

How did he know it was men? Did I dare confide in him? What about Muscle Man’s threats?

“Please tell me, Cassie. I’ve been so worried.”

Uncle John worried about me? And why did he keep injecting my name into every sentence? I paced the confined kitchen. Finally, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “They made me do some video. They claimed Daddy was still alive and they wanted to trap him or something. Do you know what’s going on? Why they would do something like that? It terrified me. I couldn’t run outside for weeks. One of the men said they’ll come after me again if they don’t get this guy they’re claiming is my dad.”

There was silence on the line.

I gripped the phone until my palm ached. “Uncle John?” My heart beat quick and hard. “Please tell me the truth. Are” My throat caught. I cleared it and tried again. “Are Mom and Dad still alive?”

“Cassie. Oh, sweetheart.”

Suddenly I realized this could not be my uncle. He’d never used a term of endearment with me or anyone else. Come to think of it, he’d never shown much concern for me or anyone else.

My throat scratched. Tears stung at my eyes. I swallowed and ventured, “Dad?”

“Oh, Cassie. I’ve missed you.”

The tears clogged my throat. “It’s really you. You’re really alive.” My heart thumped so hard I feared some arteries would be damaged. “Where’s Mom?”

“I need to tell you in person. Don’t worry, love. I’m coming to you”

There was a horrible bang and then his voice cut off. “Dad, Dad!” I yelled. I pressed the phone into my ear. He couldn’t really be gone. “Dad,” I called over and over again. Only silence answered me.

I clung to the phone, tears streaming down my face.

Had that really been my father? How could I have found my dad and lost him again? I sunk down the kitchen wall to the scarred linoleum. I couldn’t stop the wetness pouring from my eyes. Were my parents alive? Could it really be possible? “Daddy,” I whispered, cradling the phone against my ear in the hope that he might still be there.

*
         
*
         
*

“Cassidy?” Nana’s voice came to me through a haze. I pried my eyes open. They were swollen and aching. My cramped fingers slowly released the phone planted against my ear. It was making that annoying screeching sound, "Please hang up and try again, beep, beep, beep."

Nana pulled the phone from me, pushed the end button, and set it on the table. She tugged on my arm. “Cassie? Are you okay? Did you fall?”

I let her drag me to my feet, collapsing against her soft frame. “Oh, Nana.”

“Are you hurt?” she demanded.

I shook my head. “No.” I took a step back so I could focus on her face as I asked the question. “Nana, what really happened to my parents?”

Nana studied me for a few seconds then turned away and walked to the grocery sacks she must’ve set on the table while I was comatose.

I followed her, running in front of her so she had to face me. “A month ago two men grabbed me from the street and pulled me into a van. They made me speak into a video camera. They told me they wouldn’t hurt me, they were just trying to flush my father out of some remote village in Mexico.” It spilled out so easily, a huge burden lifting from my shoulders.

Nana’s eyes registered shock but her lips stayed in a pressed line.

“They told me I couldn’t tell you or the police and since they haven’t come back I had almost forgotten about them until I got a threatening letter the other day. And then while you were at the store the phone rang . . .” I paused, the tears welled up again, choking me.

Nana stepped closer. She gently touched my arm. “Who was on the phone?”

I glanced at her lined face. She knew the truth. I know she did. “I thought it was Uncle John at first, but it wasn’t.” I took a deep breath and then said it, still unsure if I had imagined it all, “It was my dad.”

Nana closed her eyes. Her body swayed. I waited for her to deny my claims. She shook her head and with eyes still pressed shut said, “Why would he call? Why would he risk putting us all in danger?”

I grabbed Nana’s arm. When she still didn’t open her eyes, I shook her. “Nana! What is going on? My dad’s alive? What about Mom?”

Nana’s eyes flew open. She stared at me like she wanted to pick me up and rock me to sleep. “I’m sorry, honey. Your mom is gone. The funeral for her was real.”
           
Part of the hope I’d had deflated. I sank into a kitchen chair and buried my face in my arms. I cried for several minutes with Nana patting my back. I’d had such dreams of seeing my mom again. Why had I let myself believe that she may be alive? Dad would’ve told me. Finally, I raised my eyes. I could barely see through the after-effects of all the sobbing. “But Dad?”

Nana sank into the chair next to me. “He’s alive. He’s been in hiding to protect all of us, but he’s still helping rescue the slaves.”

My head shimmied in shock. “Slaves?”

Nana nodded solemnly. “Your dad’s been fighting to protect them for years.”

“I thought he donated money and medical care to the orphans.”

Nana smiled at my naivety.

“How does he protect them?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know.

“He frees them.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s an awful racket. Sometimes the children’s own families sell them into slavery or they get tricked into believing they’re going to make money for their families. Sometimes the slavers don’t waste time with that and just kidnap them outright. Mexico’s government is rotten as moldy brussels sprouts, the slavers pay them to look the other way and let the children be exploited. Because your dad was so effective at stopping the slavers, they tried to kill him.”

“Who killed my mom?”

She couldn’t hold my gaze any longer. “Your parents were both shot by a sniper when they left the villages for supplies. Your mom died.” She paused to let the words sink in. “Your dad lived. His friend, Sham, was with them and found a way to get their bodies to a safe place. They faked your father’s funeral and nursed him back to health. They knew the only way to protect him, and us, was to pretend he was dead.”