Taken (2 page)

“I, um…” I twist my hands nervously in my lap, swallow and look out the window. “I need to go back to the party.”

Cam shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You’re not going back there. Raine might come back.”

“Raine can’t do anything to me,” I say. The light turns green, but Cam doesn’t move. “And if you’re worried about me doing something to her, I’m not going to.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “You need to go home and rest.”

I turn around and look at him, and he reaches his hand up and traces his finger down my face, then pushes my hair behind my ear. His touch sends a delicious shiver up my spine. The next thing I know he’s pulling me toward him, resting his forehead against mine. His lips are just a couple of centimeters away, and he tilts my chin toward his.

“Nat,” he whispers.

I feel my eyes fill with tears, but I blink them back. I’m done with crying. I pull away from him and look out the window. “Cam,” I say, shaking my head. “We can’t. I can’t.”

We sit there, not saying anything as the stoplight turns back to red and then to green again. This time, Cam drives through it.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally. “I know you’re worried about me, but my mom will freak out if you bring me home. I’m lucky enough she even let me out in the first place.”

I don’t know why I’m explaining anything to him. Maybe because in spite of everything, I don’t want him to hate me or think that I’m being a bitch. Maybe that’s pathetic after what he did to me, I don’t know.

Cam nods, turning the car back toward the party, knowing that him not being able to take me home means that Brody’s going to be the one doing it.

We’re silent for the rest of the short ride, but when we pull onto Lancaster’s street, Cam sits up in his seat.

“What the hell?” He looks through the windshield, peering down the road. A few houses down, right in front of Lancaster’s, the whirling lights of two police cars bounce off the black pavement.

There are kids milling around the front lawn, some of them on their cell phones, others getting into their cars and taking off.

“Jesus,” Cam says. “What the hell happened?”

“Looks like the cops broke up the party.” I reach down and unhook my seatbelt as he pulls to a stop.

“Nat,” he says. “Please, let me take you –”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, and open the door before he can convince me to stay. “Don’t worry. I’ll find Brody.”

Saying Brody’s name seals it. He nods, then looks away. “Be careful,” he says.

I nod, blinking back tears again. And then I’m out of the car and working my way through the throng of people, heading into the house to find Brody.

Chapter Two

Campbell

I watch Natalia as she disappears into the crowd of meandering kids that’s spilled out onto the yard and street. Two cop cars sit beside the curb, lights flashing lazily as an officer stands and talks into his phone. The other cops are probably inside the house or in the backyard.

Everything that’s happened since Nat put Raine’s necklace on is spinning around in my head, and I struggle to make sense of it.

Natalia’s so different now than she was when I met her that first day at her locker.

That girl was shy, insecure, afraid of her own shadow. The girl I watched tonight was like a demon hiding in Natalia’s body, and for a few brief seconds, even I was scared of her. But I know that despite the strength she’s shown tonight she’s still extremely vulnerable, and I have the overwhelming urge to protect her.

I’m wondering whether I should go after her when I catch sight of Aidan making his way down the driveway. I squint, imagining that I can see a stream of blood running down the side of his head. But that would be ridiculous. Why would Aidan be bleeding right now? Unless there was some kind of fight at the party. I think about how weird Aidan’s been acting lately, how quick he was to get into it with Lancaster.

I sigh as Aidan heads in the direction of the cop who’s standing on the lawn, not even paying attention to where he’s going. Hopping out of my car, I walk as fast as I can to intercept Aidan before he can get in any more trouble.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cam-o,” he says happily, still walking like a drunken sailor. “I thought you said you weren’t coming.”

The blood looks even worse up close. It’s coming from a cut at very top of his head, right at his hairline, and streaming down his temple and cheek. There’s also a line of blood coming from one of his nostrils.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing him by the elbow and maneuvering him to the other side of some kids so that the cop can’t get a good look at his face.

“Did you see it?” he asks me.

“See what?”

“The fight. I totally got the best of those idiots!”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but come on. You can tell me everything when we get in the car.” I escort him into my car, then hop in the driver’s seat and start to maneuver away from the curb so we can get the hell out of here.

But part of me is still thinking about Nat. I really don’t want to leave her. What if she needs my help again? What if Brody isn’t around, or worse, what if he is? I know she thinks she can trust him, but --

“Uh-oh,” Aidan says cheerfully, startling me out of my thoughts. “It’s the po po!”

Oh, Jesus Christ. One of the cops approaches my car with his flashlight out. I turn to Aidan. “Don’t let him see that side of your head. Or your nose. Wipe the blood off your…Just look straight out the front windshield, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Chill,” Aidan tells me and rolls his eyes like I’m being a total pussy.

I roll down my window, shaking my head at what a dumbass Aidan has become.

The cop peers in and shines his flashlight all around the car. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice suspicious.

“Just picking up my friend, Officer,” I tell him. I hope he doesn’t ask for my license. Who knows if the police kept a record of Nat’s mom accusing me of assaulting her daughter. The last thing I need is all that shit getting brought up again.

“You been drinking?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie to me, now. I’ll pull you out of the car and give you a breathalyzer.”

“I’ll take it whatever test you want,” I say. “I’m not drunk at all, haven’t had even a beer.”

He looks at me and I meet his gaze, letting him see I have nothing to hide. The flashlight bounces around the interior of the car again as he tries to find something incriminating. He shines it on the side of Aidan’s face, and Aidan tilts his head ever so slightly at him and nods. Thankfully, Aidan keeps the bloody side of his face out of sight.

“Any drugs in the vehicle?” the officer asks.

“No, sir.”

He peers at me again, shining the light right into my eye before dropping the beam to the ground. I can tell he doesn’t completely believe me, but he doesn’t have any evidence that I’m lying, either. Besides, there are probably tons of kids inside who have actually been drinking, and he knows it. “Go ahead and get out of here before I change my mind,” he says finally.

“Thanks, Officer.” I roll up my window and drive away slowly, my eyes checking the rearview mirror as we leave the scene. The house and the milling crowd of kids get slowly smaller as we go, and all I can think is that Nat is somewhere back there.

I should be with her.

“Shit,” Aidan says, laughing. “Did you like how I didn’t let him see the blood?

That was sweet, huh, Cam?”

“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” I say.

“What?” he asks, the smile disappearing from his face. “No. No way.” He shakes his head.

“Yes, I am. You need stitches.”

“No, I don’t,” he says. “I’m not even bleeding.” He puts his hand up to his forehead and comes away with a palm full of sticky blood.

“You’re going.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles. He wipes a huge smear of blood onto his t-shirt and then his eyes light up and he turns to me excitedly. “You should have seen the fight, Cam-o. It was freaking sweet. Such a rush.”

“Don’t call me Cam-o.” I glance over at him. His eyes dance maniacally in their sockets. “Are you on something?” I ask him.

“On something? Like what?”

“I don’t know, but you’re being crazy. Since when do you like to fight so much?”

Aidan shrugs. “Lately I feel so strong. I feel like I could…” He searches for the words. “Do damage,” he says, finally, his eyes getting wide. “Like,
serious
damage.”

“And why would you want to do serious damage?”

“Because some people deserve it,” he replies, staring at me with an odd expression.

“And these dudes you fought tonight, what did they do to deserve it?”

“They were dicks,” he says, waving it off. “Adrianna felt like they were pervy.

She thought they might try something.”

“She told you that?”

“I can tell what she’s thinking,” Aidan says. “She was totally skeeved out by these dudes.”

“But she didn’t say that?”

“Not in so many words. But I could still tell.” He grins.

He’s talking crazy. Then again, he’s been acting funny for a little while now.

The increased strength and aggression, the way he seems ready to pop off at the slightest provocation—it isn’t just today. I remember how he got into it with Lancaster, which is practically suicide for someone Aidan’s size. And it seems like it might be getting worse

-- I’ve just been too caught up with my own problems to pay much attention.

We get to the hospital and I park in the Emergency lot, and then we go right into the urgent care center. The lady at the desk takes one look at Aidan and checks us in immediately.

Aidan looks at me. “You coming?”

“You want me to come in with you?”

“Yeah.”

I shrug and we go together to the exam room. The nurse takes his vitals. “Your blood pressure is a bit high,” she tells him.

“How high?” I ask. Aidan doesn’t even seem to be listening to us. He’s glancing around the room.

“It’s about one-forty over ninety.” She takes his pulse. “Pulse rate is just over a hundred beats per minute.”

She asks Aidan what happened tonight and he says he got in a fight and got cut.

The nurse gives him a piece of gauze to hold to the wound and instructs him to apply pressure until the doctor comes in.

While we wait for the doctor to see him, neither of us says much.

I’m thinking about Nat and wishing I could talk to her, if only for a minute. I try to imagine what happened at the party as the police broke it up and Natalia tried to tell Brody everything that happened. I wonder what his reaction was. Did he put his arm around her, tell her everything would be okay? Did she lay her head on his shoulder in his car, say how glad she was that he was there for her? And then did they kiss?

My hands are clenched into fists and my foot taps a steady rhythm on the white hospital floor as I wait, my mind running in never-ending circles.

Finally the doctor knocks and comes in. He’s a thin guy, bald, wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He’s really friendly to us and introduces himself as Doctor Alderman.

“So tell me what happened,” he says warmly, as he begins examining Aidan.

Aidan launches into his story, telling Dr. Alderman how these guys were being mean and threatening his girlfriend and Aidan told them to knock it off. And then they all began fighting him.

“This cut needs a few stitches,” the doctor says. “How did you get it, exactly?”

Aidan shrugs. “It all happened so fast. Maybe it was when they hit me with the fireplace poker.”

“They hit you with a fireplace poker?” he asks, aghast.

“Or maybe that’s when they got my nose,” Aidan tells him.

“Yes, let’s have a closer look at that,” the doctor says, peering up Aidan’s nostrils with a tiny flashlight. Then he slowly prods around the bridge of Aidan’s nose with his gloved hands. “Doesn’t that hurt at all?”

Aidan shakes his head. “No, not really.”

The doctor looks at me. “Your friend has a broken nose.”

“Really?”

“Really. And it should be fairly painful when I press on it, but he’s not even reacting.”

“Maybe it’s not really broken,” I offer.

“No, it’s broken all right. And if what he claims is true, and they hit him with a fireplace poker, than he might have a concussion. I think we should do an MRI.”

“No thanks,” Aidan says. “My brain is fine.”

“Aid— ”

“No way. I’m not doing any tests. Just stitch me up,” he says. “I didn’t even want to come here in the first place. Cam-o made me.”

Dr. Alderman sighs and gets out his equipment. He gives Aidan some lydocaine around the wound and Aidan doesn’t even flinch as the needle goes in. The doctor stitches him up and Aidan happily sits there and watches him do it. He acts like he’s hanging out and watching a baseball game on TV.

When the doctor finishes, he turns to me. “Could I have a word with you outside?”

“Sure.”

We walk out of the exam room and Dr. Alderman closes the door, then folds his arms. “I’m concerned about your friend. Elevated pulse, elevated blood pressure, high threshold for pain. Does he do any recreational or prescription drugs?”

“No. At least, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”

The doctor shakes his head. “It’s alarming. I’d like to get in touch with his parents.”

I sigh. Aidan’s parents would flip out if they knew he got into a fight, and they’d flip out even more if they thought he’d been doing drugs when it happened. “I think he’s just got a lot of adrenaline from being in a fight. But I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m going to drive him home and I live right next door.”

“He should have an MRI but since he’s eighteen, I can’t force him to do it. But he’ll have to sign a release that indicates he’s leaving against my advice.”

“Okay.”

We go back inside and finish up. Aidan gladly signs the release and the doctor pats him on the shoulder and tells him to please be careful and come back if he experiences any vomiting, dizziness, shortness of breath, or sudden increase in pain.

And then we’re heading out of the ER and into the cold night air.

As we leave the hospital, I turn to him. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”