by Kate Morris
“What thing?” Renee questioned.
“This virus that’s making people like that,” he said.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Spencer asked. “Dude, what the hell’s going on?”
Tristan told them that the men at the refinery plant were sick with the same thing that made the man crazy who’d attacked Avery at the bar. He also told him about the gossip he’d overheard in town and the stories online he’d seen.
“Jesus, the flu is making people fucking zombies?” Spencer asked.
“No, man, they aren’t dead,” Tristan clarified. “They’re alive. They’re just…I don’t know. Not people anymore, I guess.”
“Not people?” Joshua asked nervously. “What the hell’s going on? I haven’t even heard about this.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Spencer asked, ignoring him. “Wait here for four hours for more to show up? God, it wasn’t that far out there. We’re sitting here with our asses hangin’ out, bro’. Whatever that sound was when we finished sure did sound like another one to me.”
“I think it was another one,” Tristan said. “You aren’t that far from your town here on this farm, Renee. The dispatcher said to stay inside.”
“No way,” Joshua interrupted with fear in his eyes. “I’m gettin’ outta here. See ya, Renee. If the cops want a statement or something…”
“They won’t,” Avery said. Tristan felt her fingers tighten in the folds of his t-shirt under his jacket. He had the uncanny feeling that Avery Andersson would like to burrow into his jacket altogether and stay there pressed tightly against him for safety. He wasn’t opposed.
“Well, if they do, just give them my address.”
“Hey, gimme’ a ride?” Joella asked, to which he nodded.
And with that, Joshua split in his convertible Mercedes. Some hero.
“I don’t feel safe here, either,” Renee said in a stunned voice.
“Your parents are gone for the weekend, Renee,” Avery said. “Come to my place and stay tonight.”
“Someone needs to be here,” Spencer said. “The cops are eventually gonna show up. Someone has to tell them where to see the crime scene. I’ll stay with her.”
They all looked at him.
“Would that be okay? No funny business. Just to make sure,” he promised, and she nodded and leaned into him. “Does your dad have any guns?”
“Yes, of course. We have trouble with coyotes and raccoons sometimes.”
“What’s he got?” Spencer asked.
“Shotgun, couple pistols, few hunting rifles,” she told him. “I need to take Avery home, though. We were out shopping earlier. I picked her up. She doesn’t have her car here.”
“I’ll take her home,” Tristan stated firmly, slipped a hand behind his back, and unwrapped her fingers from his shirt. He didn’t release her hand, though.
“I don’t want to put you out,” Avery said, which he ignored because that was so ridiculous he had no words.
“Is your dad home?” Tristan noticed her eyes were dilated and dazed. She was in shock.
“No,” she said. “He’s in Europe for a two-week book tour. It could get extended. I don’t know. His schedule is hectic between book signings and lectures.”
He sighed. “Does he have any guns?”
She shook her head as if the notion seemed strange that they’d have a gun. Tristan rubbed the stubble on his face.
“I’m taking you home,” he said and touched her elbow. “Spence, call me if you have trouble. How far is this place from your house?”
Avery answered, “Like twenty minutes or so.”
“I can be back here in fifteen if you need me. I’d do what the cops said and stay inside. Lock up.”
Spencer nodded. “You be careful, too, bro’. We don’t know what else is out there. Sounds like I’ve got some shit here to level the playing field, but you don’t.”
By the look in his friend’s eyes, Spencer also had a full grasp on the situation. They shook hands and separated. Tristan opened his truck door for Avery and shut it after she was in. He was on edge.
Once they were on the road, the waterworks hit. Good grief. She even cried daintily. Tristan pulled over since they were on a back road. He handed her a fast food napkin from the console. He didn’t often have weeping females in his truck, so he didn’t have soft tissues.
“You okay?” he asked and patted her back.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she said.
He sighed. “I know. It’s hard to lose a friend. She seemed like a nice girl.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I mean, I am sad about Sheba, but we weren’t that close. She was more friends with Joella than me. But her parents will be devasted.”
“Why are you crying then? ‘Cuz you were scared you were gonna be killed?”
She shook her head again. “I was so scared you were going to be killed, Tristan. When you were fighting with that…that thing…I don’t know…I just…I was so scared you would be killed.”
It was like someone took a sledgehammer to his stomach. He let his hand fall away from her shoulder and returned it to the steering wheel where he gripped it tightly to keep from touching her further. He ground his teeth together so hard, he could hear it. She probably could, too. Instead of delving into that subject, Tristan drove her to his base.
“Why are we here?” she questioned.
“I need to change out of these clothes,” he explained.
“Sure, I understand completely. I can wait while you get a shower, too. That-that man had his hands on you. You were touching him. He could’ve spread his germs on you.”
“Yeah, come on in,” he offered and got out of the truck. She followed him into the little shack he shared with Freddie. It hit him that he had the place to himself now. Freddie was lying dead at their campfire site, which was probably still burning. “Have a seat. I’ll be out in a minute. Help yourself to something to drink. There’s beer in the fridge or whatever.”
He took a fast shower, scrubbing away the blood that had hit his skin, which wasn’t much. Then he pulled on clean clothing, jeans and a t-shirt that he topped with a gray zip-up hoodie and shivered. It was chilly outside, but this was an internal chill he couldn’t shake.
“Ready?” he asked as he entered the living room again. She was admiring photographs in frames on the t.v. stand.
“Where are your photos? These are all Freddie’s. Do you have them in your room?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Can I see some?”
Tristan frowned and turned off the light, “No.”
She looked a little insulted but followed him from the house and back out to the truck where he drove them straight to her family’s property.
She punched in a code on the keypad, and the heavy wrought iron gate swung inward, permitting them entrance. He made sure it closed behind them.
“Will you come in with me? I-I don’t want to be alone right now,” she said.
Her meaning of that statement and his interpretation were probably two very different things, but he cut the engine anyway and walked her to her door. Usually, women wanted a few hours of sex with him when they used that line, but he knew Avery Andersson wasn’t that kind of girl, was the furthest thing from it.
“Still no lock?” he asked.
“No, I meant to get one, so did my dad, but we’ve been so busy. Now, he’ll be gone for a while. Honestly, I don’t know how to install one anyway.”
Avery led the way up to her apartment, and Tristan followed her into the living room area where she lit the gas fireplace.
“Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’ll be right back. Make coffee if you’d like. I just want to change.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed.
She left, going back down the long hall toward her bedroom. There was a dim light on over the kitchen sink, so he filled the carafe with water and poured it into the machine. The drawer below it was mostly filled with girly coffee f
lavors like vanilla and caramel. He chose Columbian, dropped in the pod, and pressed start.
When Avery returned to the kitchen, he had moved into the living room where he was inspecting her windows.
“What are you doing?” she asked and joined him near the front wall.
“Checking for points of ingress and egress.”
“Entry and exit points? To my apartment? Wh-why?”
He turned to face her, taking in her appearance. If he’d thought she was hot before, those faded, holey, and worn pale jeans hanging low on her slim hips and flaring out at the bottom near her ankles were sizzling hot. She was only wearing a white t-shirt, but she looked like a damn model. Normally, she dressed like she was going fishing or something. This was a change. And although she’d taken the time to braid her long hair into a single braid that she’d pulled over her right shoulder, Avery Andersson was still a sight. She was a good girl. Clean cut. Decent. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t hot as hell, and Tristan’s thoughts were anything but decent. Then she went and slightly ruined the effect by pulling on a long white sweater cardigan that hung almost to her knees that she plucked from the back of a sofa.
“Wh-what?” he asked on a broken whisper.
She tipped her head to one side to assess him, which he didn’t like and narrowed his gaze on her.
“Do you think someone’s really going to come back here?”
“I want you to tell me exactly what you experienced on your walk when you thought someone was stalking you.”
She took her time and told him over coffee that they both drank on the leather sofa in front of the fire. He sat there, contemplating her story for a long time trying to make sense of it all.
“Remember when we heard that…I don’t know…scream tonight? Whatever was on our road, it sounded just like that, Tristan.”
His heart stopped for a moment.
Chapter Sixteen
Avery tucked her legs under her and turned more to face him after setting her mug on the table in front of them without spilling any. It was a miracle. Her nerves were fried, and her hands were still trembling. She’d washed off the makeup that Renee had applied because after looking in her bathroom mirror, she spotted two raccoon eyes staring back at her. Tristan seemed anxious and rose to look out the front wall of glass again, which seemed to bother him. Then he walked past her cello on its stand and touched the strings. He returned and sat again.
“You’re a trouble magnet,” he said finally.
“Excuse me?” she asked on two blinks.
He shrugged. “Everywhere you go, trouble seems to follow.”
“That’s not true,” she answered, affronted and offended that he said it.
He tipped his head and sent her a doubtful look.
“Okay, maybe lately. But maybe it’s you. Did you think of that? Huh? Maybe the common denominator is you, not me.”
He shook his head, “No, I usually go looking for trouble. It doesn’t look for me.”
“Oh,” she whispered. Sometimes, the things he said sounded so ominous and dark. Of course, she didn’t blame trouble for not pursuing Tristan. He was a dangerous man. There was something so dark and broken in him, but not the kind that made a woman want to try and fix him. He was covered in warning bells and signals, and not just his tattooed skin. It was more like people should steer clear, make a wide trajectory around him so as not to cross paths.
“Where’d your boss touch you?”
“Mr. Crane grabbed my…oh, wait, you tricked me. I wasn’t ready for that question.”
“It’s effective, though.” He offered a cocky smirk. “So? Where’d he touch you?”
She moaned uncomfortably, which seemed to draw his attention to her mouth. “My…you know, my butt, okay? But I told you already. I handled it.”
“Hm,” he murmured. “We need to work on your security around here.”
He jumped topics a lot. It threw her off.
“I could call a locksmith tomorrow. I could do that.”
Tristan turned to face her, “What about your folks’ place? Are there locks on the doors?”
“Yes, but we never felt like we needed them before. We rarely ever lock the house.”
“That’s the point of locks. You use them even if you never need them. You need a lock.”
“I really don’t feel like I need them. I think maybe I just overreacted about the person chasing me or whatever. I feel a little silly, actually. The sheriff deputy who came out said it was probably a dog or a coyote.”
“Like what happened tonight?” he asked. “You think that was a dog I stabbed? Or a coyote that killed your friend and two of my friends, who were trained soldiers?”
She squirmed and shook her head. Her hands felt like ice cubes they were so cold.
“Good, then get that out of your head. No more talk like that. We’ve seen it up close now twice, maybe more than that if we count the one chasing you down. Something’s going on. We need to find out more.”
Her phone buzzed in the middle of his soliloquy, and she pulled it out of her back pocket, hoping to see Renee’s name pop up. It was her mother.
“Renee?” he asked.
“No, my mother,” she answered and slid the screen to receive the text.
Avery, if you are home, darling. Come down to the house at once.
“Um, my mother needs me. It sounds urgent,” she explained.
“I’ll come with you,” he offered and stood when she did.
“Oh, uh-uh, my mother actually said something recently about our, well, our friendship or forming one.”
“Friendship,” he repeated.
“She feels it would be a breach of ethics if we were to become closer.”
“As in, if we started fucking?” he asked bluntly, making her blush.
“Gosh, I don’t think that’s what she meant!” she exclaimed breathlessly and felt silly for being so dramatic. She laughed nervously and panted a few times. Wow. He was really crude when he wanted to be. Was he raised in a barn? “Let me just send her a text asking what’s wrong.”
She did so and got an immediate reply.
Come now was her mother’s reply, which she showed Tristan.
“I need to go now,” she told him and started walking. “Something’s seriously wrong. She never says anything like that.”
“I’m coming,” he pressed. “She’ll just have to get over it.”
Figuring that arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere because he was kind of controlling, she relented. They walked together down to the house, and she had to admit that she was glad to have him with her. She didn’t even pause, just went right in. Abraham was in the foyer pulling on his gym shoes.
“What the heck took…oh, hey,” he stuttered as his gaze jumped to Tristan.
“What’s going on, Abraham?” she asked.
“Faith and Joy are both sick, woke up a couple hours ago, both puking, high fevers. Mom gave them both some Tylenol, but that didn’t work. She’s freaking out. I’ve never seen her like this. Where have you been? I thought you were going to Renee’s.”
“She did,” Tristan said. “We just got back. No reception out where we were. There was a problem, so I brought her home.”
“Oh,” her brother said and pulled on a jacket from one of the hooks.
“Fevers and vomiting,” Tristan said. “Anything else?”
Abraham looked at Tristan strangely as if he didn’t understand why he was asking about their little sisters’ symptoms.
“I don’t know. Mom just got me up. I’m driving. Kaia’s staying with the other kids. We weren’t sure if you were home yet.”
“I’ll go, too,” she said as her mother walked in carrying her purse.
“No, Avery,” she said and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Tristan standing in her foyer. “Sergeant Driscoll.”
“Ma’am,” he said. “We had a problem at the bonfire tonight, and I needed to escort Avery home safely. We’ll explain it later.”
“Wait, what do you mean? Abraham, get Joy for me, darling. Faith is brushing her teeth. When she’s done, help her, too.”
“Mom, remember I told you about a virus going around?” she asked, and her mother nodded. “I didn’t tell you everything. That night at the bar, when I had a bunch of bruises, I lied. A man attacked me there. Tristan came to my rescue.”
“Attacked? You said it was more of an impropriety that Tristan helped you with.”
“No, not really. He tried to take me, carry me out, or just hurt me. I’m not sure what his intentions were.”
“I think he wanted to kill her,” Tristan interrupted, which made her mother pay closer attention.
“I sugar-coated the story so that you wouldn’t worry. It was a little worse than what I told you and Dad. There was an altercation, a pretty intense one. Tristan detained the man until the police arrived. Well, last week when I was walking and had that animal chasing me, it wasn’t an animal. I think it was a man that was infected like the one from the bar.”
“Infected,” her mother repeated confusedly. “Avery, what is this about?”
“Just listen, Mom. This is important. Tonight, it happened again. Sheba’s dead. So are two of Tristan’s soldier friends. They were all three killed by a man that was infected like the one at the bar and whoever was chasing me on the road.”
“Oh, dear,” Ophelia exclaimed. “Sheba’s dead? Oh, good Lord. I need to contact her parents, let them know how sorry…”
Avery kept going, “These infected, they become violent. The police know about them, too. They’re helping the government cover it up. Tristan thinks the hospitals and doctors are covering up a lot about it, too.” Her mother’s eyes jumped to Tristan, who nodded.
He added something she didn’t know yet, “There are supposedly two strains, too. One is like the flu; the other makes people violent. I don’t know a whole lot about it yet. I’m slowly getting information.”
“Were you hurt again tonight, my darling?” her mother worried.
“No, but only because Tristan was there again.”
Her mother nodded solemnly. “Thank goodness for Sergeant Driscoll then. I’ll talk to some of my colleagues in the morning and see what I can learn. But tonight, I need to take the girls to the hospital. Fever reducer is not bringing down their fevers at all. They don’t seem…right. They’re very ill, Avery. Take care of your brothers and sisters while I’m gone.”
