TAG (2 page)

His grin returns and it glows sinisterly in the dark. He takes one look at my sister and pulls the knife through her throat with one
smooth glide. My heart hammers against my ribcage. I can’t feel anything, yet I’ve never felt so much.

Krissy’s thick, wavy onyx-colored hair spills over her flushed
cheeks as her head crashes to the pavement. Her eyes are still staring at me, but the girl inside will soon be gone.

The asshole looks back at me. I’m next. And that’s fine. I don’t close my eyes. I will stare death in the face. I am braver than what
stands between me and whatever exists on the other side of this life.

Sirens scream in the distance and the glow of lights bounce off
the surrounding walls. I had called the cops when I found his note on Krissy’s bed, and I told them where they supposedly were. I’m
almost caught up to them, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save Krissy.

While it only took them several minutes to find us, they were
seconds too late. Krissy’s neck was already slashed.

As I acknowledge the sirens, the asshole points his blood-covered finger at me, and the corner of his lip pulls up into a sneer as
he shoves
the knife into a holster on his leg. He darts around the corner,
clutching his wounded area with both hands.

I drag myself over to my sister’s lifeless body. I sweep the hair off of her pale flesh and place a kiss on her forehead. “I will kill him,
Krissy, even if I die trying. And if I don’t die, I will live for both of
us,
and I will retaliate on everyone who has done you wrong. I won’t
ever trust anyone again. I’m so sorry I let you down.”

I lay my head on her chest, listening to the slow beats of her
heart. I pray for the next thump until there is only silence within her.

Now I pray for her peace, and I wish death upon her murderer.

CALI

LOOK AT ME.
You know you want to
.

I slide my pen in-between my teeth and arch my left brow
slightly. Eye contact.
Check
.

I love a good first day of college, even if I should have already
graduated a year ago. The scent of floor cleaner, paper, and
whiteboard markers waft through the air. Everyone is dressed neatly in back-to-school attire and brand new shoes. These are things students seem excited about; looking the new year head on with a fresh start. I look
at it as a ticking time bomb. There’s no telling how long I’ll be able to stay at this school. Sometimes it’s a week; sometimes it’s a couple of months—usually not much longer. It’s been a couple weeks since I
moved here, and I have a feeling I won’t be breaking any records in this location.

The classroom is moderately sized, fit to seat thirty students at
most. The seats are being filled in slowly, and the professor is playing
with a pen at the podium, studying each student who enters the
classroom.
Most professors decorate their rooms with articles, pictures, and diagrams. Not this guy. The walls are all empty except for the
whiteboard behind the podium. But even the whiteboard is blank.

“Welcome to Cognitive Psychology,” the professor says. His
voice is gruff and intentionally sultry—it sounds forced, like he’s reeling in his bait.

I’ve gotten too good at this no blinking game. It works the fastest; large doll-like eyes are his weakness. Therefore, I earned his
attention five minutes ago, and I can see a nervous twitch developing behind his creepy dirt-brown eyes. What an act. A teacher should be used to students staring at him.

I glide the pen slowly out from between my teeth and curl my tongue around it before sliding it out from between my lips.

He clears his throat.
Check.
“I’m going to be handing out the syllabus now. Why don’t you all take a few minutes to look it over,
and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.” He lifts the
stack of papers from his desk and wets the tip of his thumb with the
side of his tongue. I bite down on the bottom corner of my lip in
response. I know he can see me.

Lucky for him, I’m sitting in the front row. He stands before me
with an unsteady hand and fumbles through the papers before handing one to me. A strand of his perfectly quaffed auburn hair
falls over his forehead. Keeping my focus steady, I inventory every freckle on his
face, noting the slight cleft in the center of his chin and memorizing the location of the slight bend in the middle of his nose. I can hear the fluctuation of his breaths. They quicken as his hand reaches out to mine.

My fingertips sensually stroke over his tough ivory skin as I tug
at the papers. “Thank you, professor.” I place the tip of my finger between my teeth. “Did you forget to introduce yourself? Or was I
too . . . preoccupied to notice?” I look him up and down, playing into the game I already know he likes to win.

He stumbles backwards until he knocks into the podium. “Class,
I apologize. I seemed to have forgotten to introduce myself. My
name is
Professor Lance,” he says breathlessly as he scribbles his name out across the board. His handwriting looks as though it belongs to an
eight-year-old boy, which confirms his sloppiness.

“Ah, much better, professor . . . Lance.” I speak loud enough so
my voice carries over the muffled whispers behind me, forcing him to shift his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
Check
. I have this game in the bag.

Might be the fastest one yet.

When he passes by me to the next aisle, my hair is tugged and my head is pulled backward. I swivel my body around in my blue
plastic seat and offer a guileful grin.

“Cali, seriously?” Lex sighs, giving me an exaggerated eye-roll. “Leave him alone. He looks like a nice person.”

“
Those
are the most fun, Lex.” I thrust my chest out and release an exaggerated sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me unless you tried it.” She won’t try it. So unknowing. So innocent.

“You need help, lady,” she says with a sidelong smile.

I waggle my eyebrows and turn back around.
It isn’t me who needs help
, I want to say out loud. Lex thinks this is a game I play, but
she doesn’t realize I’m only here at this school for one reason. And it’s not to pick up random guys like she thinks I like to do. It’s all part of the act I’ve had to make believable. Even to her.

“He’s married. And not interested,” she whispers in my ear with a hint of hostility. “You know, like that guy from last night? You’re
becoming a home wrecker.” She thinks I took that guy home last
night. Another part of the act.

“Is that a challenge?” I whisper back. I love proving her wrong. She has yet to acknowledge my expertise on the male brain. I’ve only
been in this town for a couple weeks, but Lex has followed me
around like a lost child ever since we met at the administration office when I came to register for classes shortly after I moved here. She’s an intern there, helped me settle in, and then attached herself to me like glue. I guess my life is entertaining for her, or at least the life I’ve pretended to lead.

I study his every word, his every move and his every blink over the course of the next hour. When the bell in the hallway chimes and
the class filters out, excitement rushes through me. But Lex ruins that when she slaps my arm, nudging me out of my study. “Let’s go, Cali. Lunch.” I can sense she’s becoming bored with what she thinks is a game.

“Meet you there in five,” I say, pulling my arm out of her reach. She groans, ultimately giving up the fight, then turns and bustles out the door with the rest of the eager lunch-ravenous students.

I drop my notebook into my bag and stand up slowly. Once
again,
I clinch my lip in-between my teeth. Then I sling my bag over my
shoulder. Perfect. Last one to exit the room.

Three. Two. One—

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear
your
name?” he calls over.

I shake my head, locking my most innocent looking gaze on his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” I say in a hushed voice. “I’m Cali Sullen.” A nervous smile tugs at his lips.
Captured
.

It’s clear he doesn’t recognize me, which is surprising since
Krissy
and I looked so much alike. There was a three-year difference
between us, but she looked a little older, and I look a little younger, making it easy for us to pass as twins if we wanted to pull it off. I twirl a strand of hair around my finger and widen my eyes. “You didn’t ask any of the other students their names. Why me? Do you . . . like what you see? Is that why?” I curl my lips into a slight smirk, knowing I likely twisted his fucked up mind into pretty little knots.

“I. Ah. Ah. Have a nice day, Ms. Sullen.”

I fidget with the buttons on my shirt and drop my gaze to the
ground. “Um. You too, professor?” I spin on my heels and rush out
the classroom. I’ve added the icing to this cake. I love fucking with men who I
know
are fuckers.

I slump down into the warm leather driver’s seat of my car and
pull down my mirror to reapply lip-gloss. When I look at my eyes, I feel ashamed. I feel like Mom would be disappointed in me. Then I wonder if she would be proud of me for protecting the innocent. Although, I’m not sure retaliation falls under protection. In any case, I try to avoid my reflection—the uncontrollable bitch who stares
back at me. It’s hard to
remember back to when I wasn’t like this—when I wasn’t on a
constant
revenge kick—when Mom and Krissy were still alive. I feel like
when that life ended, this new shitty one was its replacement.

The vibration of my phone disrupts my stony glare, and I slap
the mirror shut. I answer and press speaker while coiling my other hand around the steering wheel. “Hey.”

“Where are you, Carolina?”

“School,” I respond matter-of-factly.

“You need to drop out and leave.”

I bite my tongue. We’re like oil and water, but I try to keep our arguments at a minimum. He’s gotten so much worse over the years since Mom died. “Dad, I’m fine where I am.”

“The hell you are,” his voice lowers into a whisper. “He’s
inbound to your location.”

Shit. I impulsively check the rearview mirror. It’s clear. This asshole isn’t going to stop until he kills every last person in my
family. It’s why I call him Reaper. He’s been after Dad for years for a reason I don’t know, one in which I obviously can’t be trusted with knowing. I’ve begged to know why his location is always confidential, but just the
same as the many secrets in my life, it’s on a need to know basis. Since Reaper can’t find Dad, he’s been trying to work his way
through Krissy and me. And since I’m the last daughter standing, I will continue to be his target until one of us has the last shot.

“Okay,” I reply earnestly. “Four days and out.”

“No. I want you out of there now. I want you to head to Boston. Is that clear?”

I press end and drop the phone back into my bag. Dammit. I reopen the mirror and look back at my reflection. The bright blue
hues that
used to reside within my irises are now dull, making the color
appear
gray. My eyes are always half-lidded, and my complexion is pale. I’m worn out, and I’m constantly in battle with the mission my attention is focused on. I’m doing this for the right reason. Krissy.
The end of her short nineteen years were filled with lies, deceit, pain and suffering. And now I’m going to make sure anyone and everyone who caused her pain will get back what they have given.

I flip the mirror shut and duck back out of my car. I guess I don’t
need four days. I can do it today. I send Lex a text message telling
her
something came up, and I have to leave for the day. She responds with a sad face and tells me she’ll see me tomorrow. But she probably won’t.

I poke my head back into the classroom I left minutes earlier, spotting my target. It’s his lucky lunch hour. I enter into the room
and close the door quietly behind me, pressing my thumb into the lock button at the same time.

“First name?” I ask in a tempestuous voice.

“Zach.” He visibly swallows the rising lump in his throat, and I now realize how much I’m going to love this moment, knowing he has no fucking idea what’s about to happen. “Can I do something for
you, Ms. Sullen?” I allow my eyes to draw a slow line from his lips
down to the bulging seam in his pants.

“Yeah.” I let the strap of my bag fall off my shoulder and drop to my feet as I unfasten the top button of my blouse, giving him the
okay
to move in toward me—which he does, timidly. His eyes dart
back and forth between my face and the doorknob. “Locked,” I whisper.

His hand wraps around my back, and he pulls me into his
hardness. “I don’t like games, Ms. Sullen.”

That’s not what I heard.

“That’s too bad.” I lean forward and skim my teeth against his ear lobe, breathing heavily for extra measure. “Because, I love them.” I utter the words into his ear, and his grip tightens in response. His other hand cups my chin and he pulls my lips into his. He smells like coffee but tastes like mint. He’s rough in all the wrong ways, and he’s impatient as well as unpleasantly forceful.