Never Miss

by Melissa Koslin

  “I still have the cash on me from the storage facility auction. I’m fine on cash.”

  “You’re being awful trusting telling a perfect stranger that.”

  “I may not know many facts about you, but you’re trustworthy.” She wouldn’t have risked her life to help him just to get an opportunity to steal some cash.

  She smirked.

  “I shut off my phone last night, just to be safe. Would you mind placing an order for food?”

  “Sure. What do you want?”

  “I don’t care. Order two of whatever you want.”

  She took a few minutes to find a place to order from. She obviously didn’t know the area well—though she’d been able to give him directions back here. She was interesting. That was the only reason he felt so drawn to her. She was a puzzle to figure out, that was it.

  He stood and walked over to the one window. He turned thoughts and theories around in his mind until it started to feel like a blender. He needed to take a run to clear his head. That probably wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t let his mind go on like this. He’d always had a hard time keeping his mind from getting too turbulent when he couldn’t make logical sense of something. He felt the migraine coming on fast and pressed his palms to the sides of his head.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” His voice sounded tight.

  “You don’t look fine. Food will be here in half an hour or so.”

  He kept his palms pressed to his head and closed his eyes. “That’s not the problem.”

  Her voice sounded closer, next to him. “Stress headache?”

  “Kind of.” Then he added, “It happens when I can’t shut down my thoughts. It feels like overtaxing an engine.” He opened his eyes, and she was right there. “Will you keep talking with me? It helps.”

  “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Uh . . . does this happen a lot?”

  “I’ve gotten better at taking countermeasures.”

  “What do you usually do?”

  “Go for a run.” He dropped his hands back to his sides, though his voice still sounded tight. “I haven’t run for the past couple of days.” And last night, he’d had the benefit of researching her; that had kept the pain mostly at bay.

  “So, physical exertion helps, but obviously you shouldn’t be running the streets right now. What else helps?”

  “Sometimes blaring music.”

  She laughed a little. “Seriously? You deal with headaches by blasting music?”

  “The migraine is just one of the effects. Intense music helps focus my thoughts. It’s like putting a target in front of a gun. Instead of bullets ricocheting, they aim at the target.”

  “I don’t have any music.”

  “Conversation has held it off so far today. Please just keep talking to me.”

  “You said migraines are just one of the effects. What else?”

  “If I can’t get my mind under control, the pain spreads, my muscles lock up. It’s an unusual problem. Apparently, inherited.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “My father. My grandfather told me he had the same problems when he was younger. He helped my father learn how to handle it, and he taught me the methods my father used.”

  She lifted her chin. “That’s why you know how to shoot. Let me guess, your grandfather taught you and your dad as a way to focus your mind on one thing and calm down the rest.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I went ahead and shot some rounds when I came to find you.”

  “You look better now. Pain decreasing?”

  “Better. Thank you.”

  She glanced around the empty room, empty but for that huge cat sitting there watching them. “I’m sorry I don’t have someplace comfortable to offer you to relax.”

  “I don’t need to relax. I just need to focus on one thing at a time.” Out the window, he noticed a junky car pull up next to her Blazer. “Looks like the food is here.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money and peeled off a couple of bills.

  A few minutes later, they were sitting on the kitchen floor with containers of Chinese food between them and Mac curled up against her leg.

  “This has been a weird day,” she said.

  “I have a feeling you’ve seen your fair share of car chases and bullets flying.”

  She sighed. “Is it sad that those were the lesser of the weird things?”

  He was shocked she admitted even that much. “What’s the weirdest?”

  “This.” She motioned with her chopsticks at their meal on the floor and then to him.

  “But not too bad?”

  She poked around a container with her chopsticks. “I haven’t had a real conversation in a long time. Years.”

  “Me either.”

  She looked up at him.

  He hesitated as he looked at her eyes, at the lack of shadow for the first time. He admitted, “I’ve lost too many people. I decided a long time ago not to be close to anyone.” She kept meeting his eyes, and warmth moved up his chest. He made his tone lighter. “We seem to have a similar tendency for bluntness where most people are more delicate. And we’ve let each other hold back where we feel the need to.”

  “I didn’t aim a gun at you this time.”

  “Definite progress.”

  She laughed, the first real full laugh he’d heard from her. Her smile was bright and clear like the first rays of sunshine after a rainstorm. He realized he’d stopped eating and was just watching her. Stop it, Lyndon. She’s just beautiful. You see beautiful women every day. But she was so much more, maybe because she didn’t seem to have any idea of her effect.

  He dropped his chopsticks into an empty container and then started putting the containers in one of the plastic bags in which they’d been delivered. He stood.

  She stood as well. “Here, I’ll take it out to the dumpster.” She took the bag and walked out.

  He expected Mac to follow, but he lay there on the floor looking up at him.

  “I know, I know,” he said to the cat. Then he ran his hands through his hair. Maybe I should just leave. If the situation was anything other than it was, he would’ve avoided her at all costs. She was stunning in an unintentional way, highly intelligent, intriguing—everything that was most attractive to him, which meant dangerous. But he didn’t have any place else to go tonight. If he knew where Dr. Grant lived, he’d just go there now, but he didn’t and had to wait for the morning to catch him at his office.

  Kadance walked back inside and closed and locked the door. “I’m going with you tomorrow.”

  seven

  “WHY?” LYNDON ASKED.

  “I think you should leave town immediately. I thought I’d talked you into it. I’ll feel guilty if I let you roam around LA by yourself.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her he’d be fine, that he could handle himself, but then he stopped. He wasn’t entirely convinced that bullet in the parking lot at his apartment hadn’t been intended for her. The most obvious assumption was that it was intended for him and the aim wasn’t superb, but he didn’t make assumptions as a rule. He still had his 9 mm on him. He would feel better if she at least had backup.

  Though he had no idea what would happen after tomorrow. Surely, they’d go their own ways. But maybe he could convince her to leave LA as well.

  “All right,” he said.

  She walked past him and knelt on the floor to unzip her duffle. “You can use my blanket. I just washed it before driving to California. I don’t have a pillow, though.”

  KADANCE LAY ON THE FLOOR several feet away from Lyndon. He’d refused to use her blanket. He lay on his back with his arms and ankles crossed, head resting on his bag that she’d gotten out of her car for him. She was surprised he was able to sleep without the comforts most people were used to.

  She kept looking at him, analyzing.

  His handgun lay on top of his book next to hi
s head. That image seemed to sum him up rather well. She was certain no one else saw anything but the nerdy guy he presented to the world. But she’d seen enough to know he was a lot more than that.

  And yet, she was letting him sleep a few feet away from her. With a gun lying next to him.

  She looked up at the dark ceiling. I’m finally losing my mind.

  Then she turned her head back to Lyndon.

  The more she looked at him, the more she thought, the more she realized how dangerous he really was. She’d wager he was smarter than anyone understood, and he was certainly more physically skilled than anyone would guess. She’d underestimated him, and she was trained to look past the obvious. He was the kind of person you would never see coming. Very dangerous.

  It took her a while to fall asleep, and when she did, her sleep was even lighter than usual.

  IT WAS EARLY WHEN KADANCE WOKE. The apartment was dark but for the light from the streetlamp outside. Lyndon was still asleep, and Mac stretched against her side. She was again surprised at how Mac had decided to accept Lyndon’s presence.

  She sat up slowly and held Mac in her lap so she could see his face in the low light. She checked to make sure he looked all right, to make sure this change in behavior wasn’t a sign of illness. But he seemed fine. He started purring at the attention she gave him.

  Quietly, she got up and took her duffle into the bathroom with her. She was dying for a hot shower. Mac lay on the counter while she showered, dressed, and brushed her hair and teeth. It’d been several days since she’d felt properly clean.

  When she came out, Lyndon was leaning against the kitchen counter. He looked over at her and paused. Then he went back to reading his book. “Good morning.”

  “Shower’s all yours.”

  “Thank you.” He set his book on the counter, next to his gun, grabbed his backpack, and disappeared into the bathroom. She wasn’t sure whether to feel trusted that he left his gun or to yell at him for it.

  A short while later, he came back out. His wet hair was falling over his forehead. He rubbed his square jaw. “Forgot to pack a razor.”

  “It’s probably good for you to look different,” she said. “Do you think it’s too early to leave? When does this guy get to his office?”

  Lyndon looked at his watch. “I’ll buy us some breakfast, and by the time we’re done, he should be there.”

  They each grabbed their bag, and Mac followed them out the door. She decided to keep her bag with her, just in case.

  After a drive-thru breakfast eaten in her car, she followed his directions and drove toward UCLA. She found a place to park and followed him, while watching their surroundings, both for anything of concern and to memorize the area and location of her car. Since she didn’t know how long they’d be, she let Mac come along. They walked a little distance and came up to a large brick building. Lyndon opened the door for both Kadance and Mac—he didn’t even question why Mac was coming along or if he was allowed in the building.

  “How do you plan to introduce me?” Kadance asked.

  “I figured I’d just go with whatever he naturally assumes.”

  “What do you think that’ll be? Girlfriend?”

  “I haven’t dated since before coming here for my final doctorate.”

  “Why?”

  “He knows me well enough to know I don’t date. He won’t likely assume a romantic relationship.”

  “So, it’s not that you haven’t found someone you like enough to date or that you’ve been too busy and otherwise focused. You’ve chosen not to date.”

  “It’s a reasonable guess that you’ve made that same choice.”

  “I have good reason.”

  “So do I.”

  She decided to let that go. If she didn’t want him pushing her to explain her past, she couldn’t push for his. “I go back to my previous question. What do you think he’ll assume?”

  “I’ll just say you’re a friend. A neighbor. I’ll say my truck is in the shop, and you agreed to give me a ride.”

  “All right.”

  Lyndon stopped at a door and knocked. They waited a good minute.

  “Is he not here?” Kadance asked.

  Lyndon spoke extra loudly. “He is. He’s just trying to ignore annoying students who don’t adhere to office hours.”

  The door flung open, and there stood an average-looking man with graying hair. “I seem to remember you were one of those students once upon a time.”

  “Do you want me to apologize?” Lyndon asked.

  “Why bother? You’re not going to.”

  Lyndon laughed. “True.”

  Dr. Grant opened the door wider to let them in. “And who is this I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  “Sarah,” Kadance said with a smile. “Lyndon’s truck is on the fritz, so I gave him a ride.” She stood to the side of the room, and Mac sat next to her. Dr. Grant glanced at Mac. Kadance just kept smiling and looked at Lyndon.

  Dr. Grant turned to Lyndon. “How many times have I told you to get a new car?”

  “I like my truck.”

  “I think you like being chauffeured around by your lovely girlfriend.”

  Lyndon glanced over at Kadance. She stepped forward and took his hand. The physical contact sent a jolt through her, a quivering but not unpleasant sensation. It was even stronger than when he’d touched her arm at the shooting range. Unnerving.

  Lyndon smiled a little at her. She saw the thanks in his eyes. She guessed the assumption of a girlfriend had thrown him off and he hadn’t been sure how to react. She’d figured him out enough to guess his mind didn’t compute as quickly with anything not wholly factual—his brain just didn’t work that way. With facts, he was lightning speed—not so much with lies.

  The corners of Dr. Grant’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “I’m glad to see you’re allowing yourself to have a life. Finally.” He half sat on the edge of his desk and motioned for Lyndon and Kadance to have a seat in the chairs in front of the desk.

  Lyndon didn’t sit, so Kadance didn’t either. But he did keep holding her hand.

  Dr. Grant kept smiling. “Oh, do I have some stories to tell about this one.” He nodded toward Lyndon.

  Kadance lifted her brows. “Really? Do tell.”

  “Now, let’s see.” Dr. Grant pursed his lips. “What would be the most embarrassing?”

  “What did I do in school that was embarrassing?” Lyndon asked.

  “Not so much what you did.”

  “I may die of curiosity,” Kadance said.

  “How about the time—what was his name? Barrows? The time he put a rubber chicken in your cadaver?”

  Lyndon rolled his eyes.

  “What happened?” Kadance asked.

  “Nothing,” Dr. Grant said. “Lyndon removed it and continued with his work. The whole class just watched, expecting the great Dr. Vaile here to be outraged. Barrows sputtered, and everyone else burst out laughing. The room didn’t calm down for a good five minutes.”

  “Let me guess,” Kadance said. “The great Dr. Vaile continued with his work as if nothing had happened.”

  “You’ve got him pegged, my dear.”

  “Why would this Barrows do that to him anyway?”

  Grant looked at Lyndon. “Do you want to tell her?”

  “Barrows was juvenile. Likely still is.”

  Grant turned back to Kadance. “That’s not entirely untrue. But he focused so much on Lyndon because he took the high score in every class. Every single one. Plus he was already a doctor when he came here, while everyone else was still busting tail to earn that title.”

  Kadance shifted closer to Lyndon’s side and laid her hand on his arm. The contact sent another quivery jolt through her. Holding his hand was already threatening to overwhelm her—why was she instigating even more contact? “I was just telling him what a nerd he is.”

  “Three doctorates before the age of thirty,” Dr. Grant said. “I didn’t feel like I even knew what I was doing
until thirty. Maybe even a few years after that.” He laughed then pushed off from his desk. “Do either of you want something to drink? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” Kadance looked at Lyndon. She needed to let him take the lead on this visit, though it made her uncomfortable not to be in control.

  “This isn’t actually a social call,” Lyndon said.

  “Oh?” Dr. Grant walked around his large wooden desk and sat in his padded leather chair. Multiple framed degrees, certificates, and awards lined the wall behind him like a patchwork quilt. “I thought you’d slowed on your research. I was hoping you’d finally decided to have a life.”

  “I haven’t slowed,” Lyndon said.

  “You haven’t published anything in a while. About a year, right?”

  “Just because I haven’t published doesn’t mean I’ve slowed.”

  Dr. Grant pulled his eyebrows together. “Have you come to hear my take on your last email? Unfortunately, I’ve been bogged down with exams. I haven’t looked at it yet.”

  Kadance noted that Dr. Grant’s desk was quite clean, no exams or papers waiting to be graded, nothing on it but a computer monitor on the corner and various acrylic etched awards across the front edge. Lyndon flicked a glance across the desk as well.

  “No,” Lyndon said. “That’s not the area of my research I’m concerned about.”

  “Have you veered away from Ebola research?”

  “On the contrary,” Lyndon said. “Have you heard of any thefts recently in the research community?”

  “Thefts?”

  “Yes. Thefts.”

  “You mean . . . I’m sorry, I’m confused. Was something of yours stolen? Have you called the police?”

  “Have you heard of anything?”

  “I’m confused. Are you all right?”

  Grant keeps throwing questions back at him, Kadance noted. He’d flipped the tone of the conversation abruptly.

  Lyndon clenched his jaw.

  Kadance tugged on Lyndon’s arm, and he leaned closer so she could whisper in his ear. “He’s lying about something.”

  Lyndon nodded. “I agree.” He turned back to Dr. Grant. “What are you avoiding?”