Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) (15 page)

“Maybe he tracked his mobile,” Dex says. “I thought you turned it off.”

“Oh!” I fish the cell phone from my purse. “I turned it on in the car. Can we leave now?”

“Leave?” Ben exclaims. “Not until after the dance contest.”

Cliff’s twirling a potato wedge in ketchup and smirking as if highly amused. He quirks his eyebrow at me. “Aren’t you going to talk to him?”

 “No, why don’t you?”
For all you know, you might be his brother, idiot.

“Not interested that way.”

Just then, the DJ swings into his booth and does his spiel. Cliff takes my hand. “I get the first dance.”

“No, Zach’s here. Really, I don’t want him to see me.”

“I don’t understand.” He puts on an innocent look. “Don’t you want to let him know you’ve moved on?”

“I need to use the ladies’ room.” I hop off the barstool and wind my way to the back of the bar. One by one, I delete the text messages sent or received by me on Zach’s phone, including the last one that says “I love you” in Tagalog.

The bathroom is hot and stuffy with a stench of stale beer, urine and vomit.
Not the place to spend the evening.
I make my way out past a group of college girls, some in bikini tops, who eye me suspiciously. Most likely, my lack of facial piercings and tattoos marks me as a tourist.

The electro music is blasting, and people are jumping up and down with their hands in the air.

When I make my way to the bar stools we were occupying, all three men are missing. Everywhere I turn, there are raised armpits and sweaty bodies. The DJ announces the contestants and cranks up the pulsing electronic music. I thread through the crowd by following a cocktail waitress to the front of the stage.

Sure enough, Ben and Dex are lined up, but I don’t see Cliff anywhere. I’m surprised he hasn’t pounced on me yet. Thankfully, my lack of height gives me plenty of cover. I’m wearing running shoes and sensible clothing, but a few men still surround me, bumping and jumping. I soon realize no one is dancing with anyone else. They’re all in clumps, sort of to themselves, shaking their arms or shouting at the stage.

Ben is really jamming. His arms are rotating like gears, his head bobbing at impossible angles. I have no clue what hand signals he’s doing, but he resembles a flag man on a carrier at warp speed. The crowd’s weaving and bouncing to the jackhammer beat. Beer splashes over my blouse and drips onto my shoes.

“Sorry, miss. You from around here?” A large man with a nose ring blocks my view of the stage.

“I’m with them!” I shout and point at the stage where my brothers are.

He leers and stares at my wet shirt, hovering over me like a hummingbird on nectar. Where’s Cliff when you need him?

I sortie to the ladies’ room again, but this time there’s a line. The pool tables have been pushed to the side and people are thronging around the bar. Dex is on stage, flipping through his routine. A waitress slides through the crowd.

“How much longer is the contest?” I yell to be heard over the music.

“All night! Woo! Go up there, we need some girl power.” She winks and disappears into the kitchen.

All night. The air is getting rank, and people’s deodorants aren’t working overtime. A headache squeezes my eyes as the music sends nails through my brain. I have to step out for fresh air, but a group of men eye me near the exit.

A cheer roars from the crowd. “Zach, Zach, Zach!”

Open-mouthed, I crane my neck toward the stage. It’s Zach, and he’s spinning faster than a top. His feet glide like they’re on sliders. An elbow slaps the side of my head, and someone’s hair flings in my face. Screams and howls pierce through the group of bikini-clad girls. I can’t believe it. They’re throwing thongs and panties at him.

Zach’s head and shoulders rotate evasively like he did in laser tag, and he’s spinning roundhouse kicks and sweeping the floor with his left leg, then doing a moonwalk Egyptian style. His long arms windmill two directions, and when he launches into a tight cartwheel followed by hip rolls, the girls shriek louder and the guys throw beer on each other.

Zach’s feet turn in and out and in and out as his arms and head appear disjointed. He lifts his left leg and unzips the lower part of his detachable pant leg, all while bobbing to the beat. The noise level is deafening when he exposes his carbon fiber rod and tosses the partial pant leg into the crowd.

“Zach, Zach, Zach!” All around me, people are chanting and screaming. I’m soaked, more from beer than sweat. Disoriented and dizzy, I slip on the wet floor. The crowd moves over me as if I weren’t there. I crawl between a forest of legs. Someone kicks the side of my head, and another knee lands on my back. I’m swimming and grabbing at pant legs and belt loops. But the people are so oblivious, they shake me loose while hopping like bunnies on steroids.

A rough grip pulls me to my feet, and my face bounces against a sweat-drenched chest splashed in beer and a sporty cologne. The man steadies me as I wipe the hair from my face without looking up. “Uhm … thanks.”

“Vera,” Zach says. “You okay?”

That’s when I notice the flashes. We’re being mobbed by cell phone cameras. I catch a glimpse of his electrifying eyes, but they focus across my shoulder. The signature Zach Attack grin is balanced evenly on his rugged face, and he waves to the crowd. “Let’s rock the house!”

I fumble for my purse to give him the phone, but he’s already heading past me.

“Good seeing you, take care of yourself,” he says as he walks right into the arms of a tall, leggy redhead.

I almost collapse, but my two brothers prop me and cart me up a flight of stairs lined with graffiti.

“Forget about him,” Ben says and shakes his fist toward the bar. “Let’s go home.”

“Where did Cliff go?” Dex says.

“No clue,” Ben replies, “Maybe he’s still throwing up in the loo. He was pretty pissed, drunk, I mean.”

“So, did you guys win?” I ask, even though I suspect Zach’s the champ from the reaction of the crowd.

“Hey, it was good fun,” Ben says. “You okay?”

We ascend the steps to street level. The air is cooler than during the day. I’m still dizzy and reeling from Zach’s dismissal. But it’s what I deserve.
Didn’t take him long to get over me.

I roll his phone from my purse and double check that I’ve deleted the last stupid message. My eyes are surprisingly dry, but my stomach feels like lead. I’ll never shed another tear for him or any other man.

We turn the corner to the parking spot, and I spy Zach walking hand in hand with the redhead. She’s leaning into him like she can barely walk.

My jaw tightens, and I quicken my pace. How dare he dismiss me like last semester’s term paper. How can he act like we’re strangers and let that floozy hang all over him?

“Where are you going?” Ben asks.

“I’m going to kick him in the balls.”

Two pairs of hands restrain me. We’re in the middle of downtown Melbourne, watching Zach open the door of a black Porsche SUV. He leans over with his hand on the small of the woman’s back and helps her in.

“Forget about him, you’re leaving tomorrow.” Ben’s voice is tight.

Dex swivels me toward the jeep. “Say the word,
Ate,
and we’ll rearrange his face.”

“No, please don’t.” I slump into the back seat. It is what I wanted. No Zach in my life. No strings. Empty. “But you know where he lives, right? At the far end of the Ping estate where the gatehouse used to be.”

“Yeah, that was the plot of land Tatay let his father keep where they sell seasonal fruits.” Dex guns the engine. “You want us to burn it?”

“No, take me there. I want to talk to him.”

“He might not be headed there,” Ben says.

“Then I’ll wait. All night if I have to.”

For once, the twins are quiet. No radio, no jokes, no chit-chat.

We wind our way out of the city and down rolling country roads. My gut churns, and adrenaline floods my veins. There’s no way I can shut my eyes and relax. I stare out the darkened window. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I need to tell him what he needs to know.

We bump along and make the turn toward the vineyard. The third quarter moon peeks just above the hills, illuminating acres of grapevines. Ben lifts the chain to the driveway, and the jeep travels a few hundred yards to the gatehouse. Zach’s Porsche is ticking in the carport, still hot, so he’s just arrived.

“What if the chick’s there?” Dex asks. “You sure you want to go in?”

“I’m not afraid of her.” I jump out of the jeep, ready to do battle.

“Take this knife.” He unstraps a sheathed knife from his belt.

My hands shake. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not going to kill him or anything.”

“Sure about that,
Ate?
” Ben laughs. “How about slicing his jewels off?”

“Take it,” Dex orders. “You’ll scare the implants right out of her boobs.”

They both laugh while I examine the knife in the light of the moon. It has a wicked curve to the sharp point and a small, serrated section near the tang. The brownish horn handle is inlaid with white bone.

Dex nudges me toward the door. “We’ll wait out here for you.”

“Don’t take too long,” Ben says.

“Or if you get lucky, take as long as you want.” Dex laughs.

They get in the jeep and park it outside the chain posts so we can make a quick getaway. Sweating on my forehead, I hook the sheath on my waistband and clutch the knife in my right hand.

The door is unlocked. I barge in and trip over something, but catch myself on the sofa. Zach’s prosthetic leg is lying in the middle of the living room. The dim moonlight shines on a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.

My heart pounds so loudly, I’m sure they can hear me. Slowly, I tiptoe toward the closed door and hear the bed squeaking. A red tide explodes in my chest, and I shove the door so hard it bounces against the wall. The noise stops, and the figures freeze. Zach rolls off the bed onto the floor while the woman wraps herself in the sheets. The stench of alcohol and sweat mugs me in the stuffy room.

“Get out!” I point the knife at the female.

She slides off the bed and squeaks, “No worries, I’m outta here.”

Zach is still wearing his boxers. There’s no tent so I must have scared the erection right off him. He scrambles to pull on a pair of pants. The redhead gathers her panties and tank top and totters out the bedroom. I wait until the front door slams before sheathing the knife.

“What the hell was that about?” Zach raises himself onto his right leg. “What gives you the right to barge into my house and scare my date away?”

“I … I came to return your phone.” My voice quivers.

He grabs a crutch and points it at me. “I’m not playing your games. You could have left it in the mailbox.”

“I left it in the jeep.” I slump like a deflated balloon, dry and empty inside. “Let me get it.”

“Keep it. I’ll buy a new one.” He hops to the dresser and pulls on a shirt. “I assume you’re flying out tomorrow.”

“H-how do you know?”

“You used my phone to browse the web. You sent and received texts with it. I have an app that logs every message and forwards it to my email. I also have a GPS tracker on it.” His upper lip curls thin, and he glares at me, his eyebrows lowered. “Next time, be careful who you borrow a mobile from.”

I’m paralyzed, unable to utter a sound. All I’m aware of is my heart pounding too fast. Zach moves to my side and yanks the knife out of the sheath. “And don’t wave knives when you don’t know how to hold them.”

He turns it in his palm. “This is an Australian bull horn skinning knife. Very sharp and used for slicing. You swing it around wrong, and … zip.” He makes a slicing motion across his throat. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s Dex’s, Dex Ping’s.”

“Interesting. Less than a hundred were made in the late eighties. They stopped inlaying ivory when it was banned in the early nineties.”

“Dex got it from his father.”

Zach keeps his lethal blue eyes on me as he slides the knife toward my face. “This knife is so sharp, I can cut you and you won’t feel it, at first.”

I step back. “Don’t, you’re scaring me. Put the knife away.”

“You’re the one waving it around.” He doesn’t remove his eyes from mine, but detaches the sheath from my waist. “You can tell Dex you lost it. If you say anything else, I’ll call the police. Breaking and entering, attempted murder. Don’t forget I have a witness.”

I’m nodding and shaking, but my eyes are dry. My tongue tastes like sandpaper and a metallic tang lurks in the back of my throat.

He pockets the knife and wipes his hand through his hair. “Do you have anything else to say?”

It’s clear he’s dismissing me, but I force my head to nod, even though my mouth is mute.

“Go ahead.” His arms are crossed, biceps bulging. There’s nothing friendly about him right now.

“My father … My father k-killed …” My nails dig into my palms. The pain reminds me it’s real. Not a dream. “He killed y-your mother. And … and he’s still alive.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. The muscles on the side of his jaw pulse, and his stare remains hard on me. Eyes like ice—glacial blue eyes that haunt my dreams. I can’t remember anything but the eyes and the hands, the flash of a blade and spurting blood.

I wipe the vision away, my hands dragging over my eyes. The back of my neck prickles with chills, and a sense of déjà vu overwhelms me.

Screams pierce my throat, and I’m wearing a girly dress and clutching Bing-Bing and running, running and tripping over a leg—
her
leg stiff and white, her feet in gardening clogs. I tumble face first and crawl on my hands and knees. “Papa, I’m scared. I didn’t see anything.”

Strong arms clamp me from behind. He’ll kill me if I tell. I gurgle and clutch my throat. He’ll strangle me, slice me open if I tell. “I didn’t see anything. No, nothing. Promise.”

Black dust swirls, and my head is floating, dizzy. My heart flutters too fast as cold sweat pours over me. I step into nothing, and the blackness crowds the light away.

“Vera, Vera,” someone calls me from faraway.

Flashes of light explode behind my eyes. Someone pulls my head into a bag and smothers me. I kick and punch, desperate to save myself. Screams echo, and I’m shaking all over, cowering behind a vase, hugging Bing-Bing and sucking my thumb, tasting blood.

Rough hands bind my wrists behind my back and a stinking rag is stuffed into my mouth. I’m hoisted over a shoulder and tossed onto cold, hard metal. A motor rumbles to life with the smell of exhaust. I bump my head and I see nothing.

Dimly, I’m aware I’m in the bed of a truck. The sound of tires on gravel fade in and out of my mind. I’m thrown against a warm body and hear muffled groans. A small amount of light filters in through the pillowcase over my face, but I can’t make out anything but shadows.

The truck bounces faster, and soon we’re on asphalt. I nudge the person pressed against me, but he doesn’t move.

Across from me is another person making retching sounds. The sour smell of vomit mixed with the coppery scent of blood pours into the air. Adrenaline and fear spike through my veins. What happened? I was at Zach’s place. There was a woman and a knife. I told him the truth and everything went crazy.

A chill descends on me, and I huddle against the man next to me. He reeks of beer, sweat, and ketchup, the same odors as the Grungy Caterpillar. Dex? Ben? Or Cliff?

Zach probably had men waiting. He lured me with the redhead and I fell for it. I even let him take the knife.

Stupid, stupid me.