Revenge (23 page)

And there’s a note next to my phone. It’s an old receipt, with a few words scribbled on it.

Had to go home. Allie will bring you back. Will explain later. Love you.

Weird.

I check my phone.
6:22 a.m. Whoa—I’m never up this early.
No texts from Mark. I have a bunch from Elaine, though. She’s deeply worried about me. I send her a quick message assuring her I’m fine, then lay back and stare at the criss-cross of the tent poles.

My phone buzzes.

It’s Chase.

When you’re ready, I’ll take care of the tent. We have coffee here. Come over whenever.

One deep breath. A second. A third, all the way to ten. I’m acutely aware of the ache between my legs. My thighs feel like I’ve ridden a wild stallion for miles.

When I think about last night, well...I kind of did.

Who knew that making love could be so enticing? Alluring? Fun and hot and everything in between. Waking up without Mark’s warmth makes me miss him so much.

I need to get home. I wonder what was so urgent that he’d leave me here.

I get fully dressed and unzip the tent door. The sight that greets me is breathtakingly gorgeous. I’ve lived close to the ocean for most of my life. Being on the beach isn’t new to me.

Waking up right here and standing in the warm breath of the water’s breeze
is
.

Especially after being made love to with such zeal last night.

The only thing that pulls me away from the shore is my need for coffee. And my curiosity. What made Mark leave?

I walk up to the pop-up camper and find Chase and Allie sitting outside in camp chairs, holding hands and drinking coffee.

I smile. “Good morning.”

Chase gets up and nods, turning back around with a travel mug. “Mark said you like it with milk and cinnamon.”

I give Allie an incredulous look as Chase hands me the mug. “Have I died and gone to heaven? Where did these brothers come from?”

“Enjoy it while it last
s
,” she says with a grin. She’s completely taken with Chase, mooning at him. “You’ll find out soon enough they’re not perfect.”

Chase kisses the top of her head and pretends to be offended. “What? I’m perfect.”

“You snore.”

“I snore
perfectly
.”

We all laugh. Chase is dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. He’s clean shaven and recently showered. He looks so professional.

“I’m off to an interview for an internship,” he explains.

“Internship?
And an interview this early?
”

He shrugs.
“
It’s at a hospital.
For nursing classes. It’s a formality.”

“Chase finishes most of his coursework this semester and then he gets to do his rotations. He’ll have his RN in a year,” she declares proudly.

He dips his head, clearly embarrassed, and gives a wave goodbye.
A few seconds later I hear a motorcycle engine start. The sound fades as Allie motions for me to sit with her.
 

“You woke up to a note from Mark, didn’t you? I hate that. It sucks when they do that. Leave you a note that doesn’t make any sense.” She makes a sour face.

“You knew?”

“Mark came up here, grabbed a cup of coffee, and took off. He asked me to drive you home.”

“I’m sorry to bother you. I—” I have no idea what to say.

She puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. It’ll be nice to get to know each other on the drive.
Besides, I owe Mark.
”

I give her one of those nervous smiles where you feel grateful and a little awkward because the other person is about to do you a huge favor.

“And you’re pretty cool, Carrie. I can tell.”

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Effie:

Please tell Carrie she really needs to see me when she comes home. This is Effie Cummings leaving a message.

I laugh. Allie’s eyebrows go up.

“An old lady who acts like texting is leaving a message
with
an old-fashioned
answering service.”
 

We
giggle
and she looks at her phone. “We need to get
mov
ing if I’m going to get back in time for my shift at the restaurant.” Mark mentioned Allie worked at a small diner.

Ten minutes later we’re in her little
brown
car, driving south toward Yates. Allie’s a pleasant person to be quiet with. Peaceful. She plays the radio and we just drive as I let my mind go over everything it needs to process.
She’s packed thermoses of coffee and I drink, needing the stimulation.
 

By the time we’re outside the city limits, I realize she might think I’m rude for being so quiet.

“Hey,” I say, breaking the solitude. “I’m sorry. I’
m not
much of a conversationalist.”

“It’s okay. Neither is Chase. I’m used to being with quiet people.”

“I’m actually not quiet by nature,” I explain. “It’s just, the past days have been...well...”

“Trust me, Carrie. If anyone understands, it’s me.”

Traffic is surprisingly light this early, and we get into downtown Yates fast.

“You don’t need to drive all the way across town,” I tell Allie. “I just need a ride here, and then I can get home.”

“Here” is right in front of my dad’s old bar, which is currently teeming with tons of early-morning coffee customers. My dream from this morning hits me, like being smacked between the eyes by a two-by-four. It all comes back to me—Amy, the door, the light sh
i
ning around it, the weird dark circle.

I shiver.
I
t’s like I go back to that dark place
right now
. My skin feels so sensitive. A c
lou
d of doom fills my head.

“The
Coffee Freak
? Sounds interesting.” Allie’s words feel like they’re coming from far away. She doesn’t seem to notice I’m falling apart in front of her.

I have to pretend I’m fine. “They have good pastries.
Let me buy you breakfast.
C’mon. It’s the least I can do.” I struggle to keep the terror out of my voice.

She smiles and looks at the time. “Okay. I have twenty minutes.”

We walk in to find Mikey at the counter, brewing espresso. “Carrie!” he calls out. “Good to see you. What’s your poison?”

“You know what I drink, Mikey,” I snap.
I follow it with a smile as I try to be normal.
 

He gives me a salute, then says, “Yeah, but what
does
your hot friend drink?”
He winks at Allie.
One of the other guys working the coffee machines makes a low sound of suggestion.

“Her hot friend is engaged to a guy who would rip your head off and drink your blood for breakfast if he heard you say that,” Allie says pleasantly. Her tone is so different from the violence in her words that everyone in the line goes silent.

Mikey turns bright red.
He jumps, then fishes his phone out of his pocket. He turns away and ignores us.
 

“Just a regular latte is fine,” she adds sweetly. “Plus two cinnamon scones. You like cinnamon, right?” she asks me.

I nod, a bit speechless.

“Engaged?” I ask.

Allie’s turn to redden. “I don’t have a ring. Not yet. But he proposed last month. We’re planning for a winter wedding.”

I reach for her hand. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful!”

“Thanks.”

The other guy at the counter gives us our drinks. I pay and throw a generous tip into the jar. Allie finds a loveseat we can share, and we stuff our faces.

The scone starts to taste
like soap powder as I remember my dream. Oh, my God. The door. The round circle. The cool darkness.
 

It’s right here.

Literally,
right here
.

My dream took me to the old underground storage room in the back of Dad and Brian’s bar.

Which is now this coffeehouse.

I realize Mikey’s glaring at us. His face is twisted with something so bitter. I’ve never seen it before.

“Carrie?” Allie’s voice is sharp. She looks from me to Mikey. “Is he bothering you?”

“Mikey?” I laugh, but then I choke on my own feeling of overwhelm. “No,
n
o. I’ve been babysitting Mikey since he was a
baby
. He’s harmless.
T
hat comment he made to you was just a seventeen-year-old boy being bold.”

She snorts. “I work in a breakfast diner with construction workers.
T
hat was
nothing
.”

Why’s he glaring at me like th
is
?

I realize he’s texting someone. Probably Elaine. He’s probably all butthurt because Allie made him look like a fool in front of his coworkers and I didn’t defend him. I’ll sooth
e
the rough feelings later.

“Mark’s here
in town
, right?” Allie asks, finishing her scone. She looks around and rubs the scar on her arm. “I don’t want to leave you unless he’s around to help.”

I check my phone. There’s a text from him.

Go back to the trailer. I got more information from my director. You might need to see Chief Cummings about the dog, though. Don’t go to the station without me.

And then a heart.

“Yeah, he’s here,” I assure her. “He says he’ll see me at my trailer.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone, Carrie. Mark’s a good guy.”

I decide not to play any games with her. “You know about Chase and Mark’s dad, right?”

“You mean Galt?” Her eyebrows go up.

I nod.

“Oh, yeah. I know plenty about Galt.”
H
er face twists with disgust. “He’s the reason we’re on the run. Well, h
im
and El Brujo. Sometimes, I’m not sure which one is worse.”

“What happened with Mark and Chase’s dad?”

“Galt wants Chase dead
for leaving the motorcycle gang
,” she says flatly.

“Whoa.”

“Right. And El Brujo, well...he didn’t like having me taken away from him, which is what Chase and Mark did. He got a bunch of money and drugs that my stepfather had stored
i
n our house, and
M
ark says I don’t have to worry about him
anymore
, but...” She sighs. “That’s why Chase’s hair is dark.” She touches her red hair. “And why I dyed mine auburn.”

“You’re not a natural redhead?”

She smiles. “No. My
real
hair is the color of a crow’s feather.”

My mind races. “Which means you normally look like all the missing women.”

She nods sadly. “You noticed?
Mark called Chase as soon as the pattern was detected and Chase ran to the drugstore right away. You know how hard it is to dye hair in a pop-up camper sink?
”

I gr
i
mace.

“Yeah,” she says sadly. “But, hey, that’s life.”

I think about that for a few seconds as we sip our coffees. “Is it really, Allie?” I finally ask. “Is this how life is just supposed to be? You and Chase moving all the time. Chase being worried his own dad will get him. All these people terro
r
ized by El Brujo. Ma
rk
working undercover like this.” I lower my voice to a whisper for the last sentence. “Aren’t you lonely?”

She frowns. “No. Not lonely. I used to be. Before I met Chase.” She sighs. “But no. It sucks moving so much. And Chase gets jumpy if I’m even a few minutes late. But if we were really worried, he wouldn’t be in college.”

“He’s in college under his real name?”

She looks away. “No. He changed his
legal name. Mark helped him. But I still call him Chase.”
 

My body feels boneless and heavy at the same time.
I
s this my future? Running away from everyone to hide? Is Dean
L
andau
that
all-powerful? And if Chase and Mark’s dad is this dangerous, what might he do to Mark?

And then there’s the storage room....

“Look,” she says, standing suddenly. “I have to go. I’m on the lunch shift at eleven, and...”

I give her a great big hug, then fish around in my purse for money. “
L
et me pay you for gas.”

She waves the money away. “
N
o.”

“C’mon!”

“Mark covered it,” she sa
y
s, looking at the ground.

“Oh.” Of course he did.

She hugs me again. “Stay safe. Be careful. Do what Mark says.”

“He train you to say that?”

She laughs as she leaves, then calls out, “
M
aybe!”

A
s
she disappears around the corner I feel like half my happiness just walked away.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. Mikey’s back is to me. I stand and walk up to the counter.
T
he line has died down.

“
H
ey, Mikey,” I say.

“
H
ey.”

“I have a question. Can I come back here?”

He tenses. His behavior is weirder and weirder.

“Sure.” He opens the half-door separating the counter from the sitting area. I pass him and walk into the back. While the main eating area is different, behind the scenes so much remains the same from the days of Dad and Brian running the bar.

I lead him to the old stor
age
room. And...there it is.

If you don’t know the little underground hatch is there, you’d never be able to find it.
The handle just looks like a piece of metal stuck in the cement. An area rug is thrown over it. I move the rug.
 

“What are you doing?” Mikey asks in a choked voice.

“Shhhh,” I say. I lift the rod and
click
—the door starts to open. It opens easily and makes no sound.

“You still store stuff down here? When I was a kid, this is where Dad and Brian kept all the really expensive wines.” I lift the door and see the stairs leading down. A blast of air hits me full in the face.

I
t smells exactly like it did in my dream.

“We keep boxes and some other things in there,” he says nervously. “Nothing important.
Lots of leftover paperwork from the bar. The stuff my mom and dad weren’t allowed to clear out.
I don’t think you should be in there, Carrie,” he says, his eyes darting all over the place. “You don’t work here.”