Gilt Hollow (20 page)

Ashton's face turned as ominous as a thundercloud. “So that's what set off your attack?”

Willow nodded.

“Give me your phone.”

Willow reached in her pocket and handed over her cell.

He handed it back. “The code?”

She swiped a finger across the grid, and her cheeks flamed as she realized her unlock pattern was the letter
A
. For Ashton. She'd used the same code since she'd bought the phone over a year ago and entered it without thought—until now.

Ashton didn't seem to notice as he took it back.

He clicked on something and smirked. “Brayden wants you to call him when you're feeling better. And Lisa . . .” He flicked his finger across the screen. “She texted you like a
thousand times.” Ashton shook his head, his grin widening. “Looks like she wants to know if you're playing hooky with Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.”

“Give me that!” Willow grabbed the phone.

“Okay!” He laughed. “I'll stop reading about myself.”

“How do you know Lisa's talking about you? Huh?” She punched his arm and pulled back stinging knuckles. “She could be talking about Brayden.”

“Gingerboy, dark and dangerous?” He lifted a brow and took back the phone. “I don't think so.”

Willow watched for a moment before peering over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Shutting down your SnapMail account.”

She snatched it away just before he hit the uninstall icon. “No.”

“Do you like getting threatening messages?”

“No, but one of these times they're going to screw up and give something away.” Willow shut the screen and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. “And next time I'm going to make them talk to me.”

In that moment, Willow knew she had to help Ashton find out who really killed Daniel Turano. Whoever it was had taken Ashton from her once, and she wasn't about to let them do it again.

Willow set her jaw. “It's time to turn the tables.”

I
remembered her panic attacks from when we were kids. It's no big deal.” Ashton shrugged, brushing off one of the most romantic moments of Willow's life with a wink and a smile.

“At least you kept her from passing out and ruining the pep rally,” Yolanda commented.

“I know, right?” Penelope's high-pitched giggle abraded Willow's eardrums as she clutched her lunch bag to her chest and sped past.

Her stomach tightened as she searched the crowded cafeteria for a friendly face. Lisa's bright smile beckoned from a nearby table. Willow raced over and plopped down with a sigh—only to look back and see Penelope slide onto Ashton's lap and wrap her arms around his neck.

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” Willow tugged her lunch toward her, knocking Lisa's water bottle over in the process. “Ugh. Sorry.”

“No worries, chica.” Lisa grabbed the bottle and sopped the water up with a napkin.

“Hey. Everything all right?” Brayden asked as he climbed over the bench and sat next to Willow.

“Fine,” she muttered as she watched Ashton's hands encircle the hemp belt cinching Penelope's tiny waist. They'd agreed as part of their “offense plan” to keep dating Brayden and
Pen
—as Ashton called her—in order to see what they could learn from them and also as a cover to protect Willow
and her family. But the logic behind it didn't make it any easier to watch.

Willow dug into her lunch, and Lisa shot her an encouraging smile. They'd had a long conversation the night before. Lisa had told Willow how she'd been camped out in the library during the pep rally, cell phone recorder at the ready, but Isaiah had never showed. And Willow had finally shared that she'd been hiding Ashton in the attic and that he was now living with them by invitation but still in secret.

Willow's account of how Ashton had risked his life to save Rainn—combined with the superhero-like reports of how he'd rescued Willow at the pep rally—were enough to make Lisa Gifford, jaded ex–New Yorker, irrevocably Team Ashton.

A chocolate chip cookie appeared under Willow's nose. She sniffed the sugary temptation and glanced over at Brayden. His warm brown eyes glimmered with that ever-present hint of humor that made her want to laugh and hug him at the same time.

“Take it. I know you want to.” He wiggled auburn brows.

She snatched the cookie and took a big bite.

“Better?”

“Much,” Willow mumbled as she chewed.

A tray plunked down on the other side of the table. “Why I pay for this slop, I have no clue.” Colin Martin swiped the beanie off his golden hair and tucked it into his pocket as he sat next to Lisa.

Willow's friend froze with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. With as much subtlety as she could manage, Willow kicked Lisa under the table, which reactivated her arm but did nothing for the dreamy look on her face.

Colin tossed a tater tot into his mouth and launched a football conversation with Brayden that might have been in
Latin. Or at least that's how much of it Willow understood. Finally, Colin noticed the starry-eyed girl sitting beside him. He turned to her and extended his hand. “Hi. I'm Colin Martin. You're new, right?”

Proud that Lisa managed to introduce herself with minimal stuttering, Willow let her eyes wander over to Ashton's table where he and Penelope sat side by side talking to Yolanda and Ona. That's when she realized that they'd managed to split the popular table. For years Yolanda and her friends had exclusive rights to the Martin cousins, the two boys sitting beside her now.

“You're coming, right, Weepy?”

Willow turned to Colin and tried to hide her annoyance. He was the missing piece—the other boy with motive to want Ashton out of Gilt Hollow. She needed to get to know him better. “I'm sorry?”

“My end-of-the-season party this weekend.”

“It's a blast,” Brayden chimed in. “We do a bonfire, roast marshmallows, and play games.” He grabbed her hand under the table. “I can pick you up and we can go together.”

Willow returned Brayden's beguiling grin, and then, the smile dropping from her face, turned back to Colin. “I'll come on two conditions.”

Colin quirked a brow in surprise. “What's that?”

“One, you invite Lisa.” Willow lifted an index finger.

He turned and winked at her friend. “Done.”

Lisa's cheeks flushed a brilliant pink.

“Two.” Willow raised her fingers in a V and stared Colin down. “You never call me Weepy again.”

Colin's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, and Willow thought he would refuse, but then his lips curled and he gave a single nod. “You got it . . .
Willow
.”

■ ■ ■

“Isaiah!” Willow speed-walked through a maze of ambling students until she reached his side. “Hey, sorry I missed you the other day, but I guess you heard what happened.”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at her. “You okay?”

“Yes, but I was hoping we could reschedule our . . . meeting.”

“Shh!” Isaiah scanned the people around them and walked faster. “I can't. I'm sorry. Just forget about it, okay?” He cut to the left and into his next class.

Willow stopped at the doorway and stared after him in stunned silence. Had it been her imagination or had he seemed . . . scared? She turned and headed toward the stairs. If Isaiah had been the one sending her threatening texts, then who was he afraid of? Or what was he afraid of her finding out?

She rounded the bottom of the staircase, and someone grabbed her arm, yanking her sideways through an open door. She screeched and tried to jerk away, but the person's hand clamped over her mouth as a powerful arm tightened around her waist from behind. “Wil, it's me,” Ashton hissed just as he shut the door, thrusting them into complete darkness.

Slowly, he released her and pulled his hand away from her mouth. She drew in a sharp breath, and the scent of chemicals told her they were in a janitorial closet. Willow waited for the anger to kick in, but her adrenaline only fueled a hyperawareness—of Ashton's solid strength pressing her back into the door, the heady taste of his breath, the fingers of his left hand a loose cuff around her upper arm.

The darkness giving her courage, Willow raised her palm and pressed it against the muscled wall of Ashton's chest.
Beneath a soft layer of cotton, his heart thumped hard and fast. She raised her chin, and it was like lifting her face to the sun. Heat buzzed across her lips as recklessness thrilled through her. If she rose onto her toes, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pressed their mouths together, would he kiss her back? Did he want that as much as she did?

Her pulse slammed in her ears as she flexed her toes and started to rise, but before she could, he released her and stepped away.

Fury and embarrassment flared through Willow in equal measure. “Was that really necessary? We shouldn't even be in here!”

“Don't worry about that. Do you have your phone on you?”

For a moment, she couldn't remember. Then she felt around her feet to where her bag had fallen and pulled her cell from the outside pocket. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, she swiped in the code, the light of the screen almost blinding. Ashton took it and held it up to illuminate a piece of notebook paper. “I found this in my locker after lunch.”

Willow met Ashton's gaze, his eyes glowing an ethereal blue in the radiant light. She tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at the note, reading the messy script out loud. “I know you didn't kill Daniel, but the person who did won't stop until you're gone for good.”

Willow's eyes darted back to his. “Do they mean
gone
, gone?”

“I don't know, but check out the writing.”

It looked as if the letters had been written by a child, scrawled in an odd combination of lower and upper case. “Why didn't they just type it?”

“I wondered the same thing. I think it indicates a spur of the moment decision.”

Willow nodded. “That makes sense.” She thought for a second. “We can show this to the police as evidence!”

Ashton shook his head. “It won't mean anything to them. I could've written it myself. Plus, I don't trust Chief Kagawa.”

“That reminds me, I tried to talk to Isaiah—”

Ashton grabbed her upper arms in a fierce grip. “
Please
don't do that on your own. He could be dangerous.”

The heat of his touch burned through the layers of Willow's sweater, scorching her skin. But it wasn't enough. She took a tiny step into him, and the very air between them went still. Ashton muttered a curse just before he pushed her back against the door, the cell phone falling from her hand. “Is this what you were hoping for?” His voice was low and rough, and Willow felt it vibrate through her spine.

“Maybe.”

“Me too,” he whispered as his lips pressed into hers.

Willow's world exploded, lights bursting behind her eyelids as Ashton's hands tangled in her hair. He captured her bottom lip and then he tilted her head, his mouth flush with hers as he deepened the kiss. Electricity flashed through her body and she gripped the front of his shirt.

Ashton groaned and wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her full against him. He slanted his mouth the other way, and it was like they couldn't get enough of each other. The earth spun out from under her, and Willow clung to him, something wild causing her to pull at his hair and bite his lip. His fingers dug into her neck, and then he let her go.

Willow stumbled back, waves of heat washing over her as she sucked in ragged breaths. The air between them was so charged, she feared they might detonate the chemicals in the room. She pressed cool palms to her fiery cheeks and tried to clear her head.

Without warning, the door flew open. Automatically, Willow stepped into Ashton and he pulled her close. She raised a hand against the onslaught of fluorescent light, feeling a bit like a mole being unearthed.

“Go on. Get out of here, you two,” a man holding a mop handle said in a tired voice, as if he encountered couples in his workspace every day. Maybe he did.

Willow shot Ashton an I-told-you-so-look as they grabbed their things and scrambled into the hallway. They were a total cliché.

“You might want to get a better lock, Charlie,” Ashton quipped as he tossed something small and metallic at the janitor.

“I never thought of that before, Mr. Keller.” The old man shot them a toothless grin and flicked the paper clip back at Ashton, who caught it against his chest with a laugh.

“How do you know him?” Willow asked as they walked away.

“Charlie? He's a good guy. Helped me scrub the paint off of Isaiah's locker. I would've been sanding away all night if he hadn't come to my rescue with an aerosol paint remover.”

“They made you do that?” Willow gasped.

“Yeah, McNachtan said they couldn't prove it was me but asked me to do it as an act of good faith. It was either that or a week of detention.” Ashton slanted a glance at her. “Which I didn't see as an act of good faith at all.”

Willow rolled her eyes at his cavalier attitude. When were people going to stop blaming Ashton for every bad thing that happened?

They paused at an intersection, an awkward silence descending on them.

“I better go. We're already late.” Willow pivoted toward Study Hall.

“Wait.” Ashton reached out but just managed to pinch her sweater, pulling it off one shoulder. His eyes zeroed in on her exposed skin. “Talk tonight?” he asked as he stepped close, his exquisite blue gaze drifting to her mouth.

“Yeah,” she breathed, hoping they would do more than talk.

His warm fingers brushed her cheek, and he leaned in, his breath tickling her ear as he murmured, “You taste like strawberries.”

His words slid through her, weakening her knees.

He pulled away and shot her a wicked grin. “See you later.”

All she could do was watch as he turned and strode away.

Ashton walked through the library. Tomb-quiet after school, it had always been Isaiah's favorite study spot. In middle school, he'd fallen asleep at one of the large slab tables and been locked in the building. That had been right after his mother left—when he couldn't stand the house he'd grown up in and all the happy memories.

That kid, the one who'd shared his heartache with Ashton, didn't seem capable of homicide, or of setting him up to take the fall. But psychopaths were notoriously good liars. Ashton had learned that the hard way in juvie.

He turned a corner and drew closer to the electronic glow of a computer monitor behind a partition. When he'd decided to chat with Isaiah, he'd known he would need to tread carefully—appeal to his old friend's sense of justice and rein
in his own anger. But as he stared at the back of Isaiah's head, his pulse throbbed in his ears and he had to take a calming breath. Had this kid been threatening Willow? Rainn? Had he shot his best friend, Cory Martin?