Chasing Impossible

by Katie McGarry

  “You rocked it out,” she says.

  “Yeah, he did, and now you need to leave.” Abby slips between me and the two girls. They shuffle away, and if they say anything, I don’t hear it as I’m too busy enjoying how Abby’s eyes devour me. “I didn’t know you played.”

  Same damn reaction every time I see her—a quick burn in my veins. Hazel eyes, soft red lips, long chestnut hair that has loose waves, and a body that begs to be touched.

  And touching her would be the equivalent of playing with radioactive plutonium. Might not know at first the goods are killing you, but you’ll notice the burns later. I switch my focus back to packing up my gear. “That’s the second time you’ve blocked me tonight, and you’re aware I play.”

  “I meant the guitar, and as I said before, you can do better.”

  “With the guitar or the girls?”

  “Both.”

  I like that the girl who lies sometimes tells the truth. “Mind pointing out who then? I’m tired of going home alone.”

  I wait for her quick comment, the game to start. Instead, Abby invades my personal space, crossing lines she always dances on. Her scent envelops me first. A smell that fits her. A scent that’s bold and wild and before I can breathe that heady aroma again, Abby winds her arms around my neck, knots her fingers into my hair under my hat, drags my head down and kisses me.

  Abby

  His lips are hot and soft and tasting him is like standing outside during an electrical storm. Almost as if he was struck by the same bolt of lightning, Logan jerks and then is quick in joining the game.

  He wastes no time, sliding one hand along my spine, causing goose bumps on my skin. Curling his other hand along my hip, sending heat to places that are typically secrets. Pressing me to him, that one move promising lots of wicked things.

  Our mouths move. Nibbles on my lower lip, a lick of his tongue and my mind whirls. All of his efforts are a fight to gain control. But he’s on my turf, he’s playing by my rules, and I’ll be the one causing Logan to lose his mind.

  I skim my fingernails down his neck, loving the warm feel of his skin, the rough evening stubble against his jawline. Logan’s muscles tighten in response and the ends of my mouth turn up. That’s right. I’m the one causing his body to respond. I’m the one making Logan think only of me.

  I’ve done what I’ve wanted. I’ve kissed the boy, and as my fingers dawdle across his biceps in the search for his chest to push him away, Logan weaves his arm around my waist and we spin.

  Me against the wall, his body sweetly crushing mine, and when I shift I suck in a breath with the thrilling sensation of the friction created. He stares down at me with the most exhilarating eyes that are so dark they’re practically black. We’re both breathing hard, we’re both moments from an explosion.

  “You don’t play fair,” I say a lot more breathlessly than I would have preferred.

  “I’m playing by the same rule book you are.”

  I could kiss that pretentious, arrogant expression off his face. “I don’t play by rules.”

  “I know.” Logan sweeps his thumb over my cheek and the caress is too sweet. Too heartbreakingly emotional and that’s not what I’m going for, but when he presses his body into mine, specifically his hips, my entire body rocks with the intense rush.

  “We really doing this, Abby?” he whispers.

  I bite my bottom lip and he watches. Lust smolders between us. I just meant to kiss him, and I’ve reached my goal. I should inch him back, give him a wink, and blow a kiss as I walk away, but I’m excellent at selfish. “At least for a few more minutes.”

  “Fine, but we’re not doing it here.”

  Logan

  “Seriously, I didn’t know you played guitar.” Abby sits on the table next to me, watching as I wind up my cord that led to the amp. Her legs are crossed and she leans back on her hands and that motion causes her to be mouthwatering in the dancing spotlight. “Or any musical instruments.”

  I wind the cord up faster. The moment I’m packed, I’m driving her to the brook in Bullitt County, grabbing a sleeping bag, hopping into the bed of my truck with Abby and we’re picking up where we left off.

  “You plan on joining their band?”

  I glance at Abby out of the corner of my eye and say nothing. Irritated with my silence, her expression darkens and she tries again. “Why did you play tonight? Why not tell anyone you could play guitar? Why not tell any of us you were playing? People care about that shit.”

  More nothing from me.

  “I kissed you so that buys me an answer.”

  I lean into Abby and she slips her tongue across my lips when I steal another kiss. When I pull away she waggles her eyebrows. “At least we’ve finally raised the stakes of the game.”

  Yeah, we did and I’ve discovered playing with fire is more addicting than fast speeds.

  “Does Isaiah know?” she continues. “West? Your baseball friends?”

  A slight grin on my part and she has the answer. That cute I-know-something-no-else-does glint in her eyes is far sexier than it should be. “So I’m the only one who knows.”

  I shove my cord into my bag and zip everything up. “Is this what you really want to do? Ask questions? I was under the impression that we hang because neither of us feel.”

  She cocks her head and repeats my answer from earlier. “Just trying to understand you.”

  I laugh, it’s a bit bitter, and so’s her smile.

  “Are we going to make out or not?” she asks.

  I shoulder my guitar bag, she jumps down and doesn’t punch me when I drop an arm around her shoulder to guide her through the crowded club. Her and I, we’ve shared brief touches and long looks that explain exactly what the other is thinking, but she’s never let me this close. Maybe, after tonight, she’ll let me closer.

  Abby scans the room, eagle-eyeing a table in the rear, then checking over her shoulder. That same fear Rachel and I spotted earlier, it returns. “Why are you scared tonight, Abby?”

  Abby straightens. “I don’t get scared.”

  “You are.”

  “You’re delusional.” She’s mad, but there’s a slight twitch to her as she checks over her shoulder again.

  “Rachel saw it, too. Wanted me to chase after you.”

  “Now, why would she ask you to do that?” She attempts coy, but I’ve pegged her and she hates it. “I think we’re all quite aware I can take care of myself.”

  “She wants me to save you.”

  Abby pauses near the hallway to the bathrooms, eases away from me so I have to drop my arm and performs a slow blink. “Did she say that?”

  “Not those words.”

  Abby hooks her fingers into her belt loops and, for a second, she draws my attention away from her face to her hips, but I refocus quickly.

  “Do you think I’m worth saving?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  She smirks like she doesn’t believe me. “Do you think I’m savable?”

  “Do you want to be saved?”

  Around us, people laugh, they yell, the band starts another set, the normal guitar player comes in late again, and neither of us breaks the stare showdown.

  “Logan?” she finally says.

  “Yeah?”

  Abby switches her footing and that causes a sense of dread to coil in my stomach. This isn’t the girl who’s unsure of anything. “I was told not to work tonight.”

  “Told? By who?”

  Abby purses her lips waiting for me to catch up and my muscles in my shoulders tighten when I do. Whoever she works for informed her she should stay home.

  “Why? And why the fuck are you out if you were told to stay in?”

  “I wasn’t told to stay in, I was told not to work, and you�
��re missing the point. In the end, it was all really more suggestions. Anyhow, I just happened to notice more people on the other side of the fence here than I noticed people on my side and, truth is, there shouldn’t be either. This area of town has always been neutral territory and it’s not where I do transactions. Interviews? Yes. Transactions, no. There’s something going down and I’m not confident walking down dark streets together is a great plan.”

  I readjust the hat on backwards on my head and glance around as if I can spot her monsters lurking in the shadows. “How do you want to handle this?”

  She taps her fingers against her leg. “You should leave, and I’ll call my boss for instructions.”

  Yeah, that’s not happening and the glare I give her says that without me opening my mouth.

  Abby’s squishes her hands in the air like she’s holding a puppy. “Jesus, you’re even sexier pissed and I seriously can’t wait to get your shirt off. I’ve been dying to peruse your abs for weeks. So here’s the plan—I’ll stay here, you get the truck, pick me up at the front door, and then we’ll do a couple of switchbacks. You know, to make sure no one’s tailing us.”

  She’s saying the right words and she wears this innocent expression, but Abby can spin stories like a spider building a web.

  “I’ll call West and Isaiah,” I counter. “We’ll stay put, and they’ll swing by to pick us up so we don’t have to leave the club.”

  “Isaiah won’t show. He’s adamant about staying out of my professional obligations.”

  “West will show.”

  Her mask dissolves. “I can’t wait that long.”

  “Then come with me. Now.”

  Abby’s fingers tap her leg again and she does that thing where she’s scouring the club for her enemies. “Get the truck, call me the moment you’re outside with wheels, and then we’re out of here.”

  There’s no innocence, no tease, just a dead seriousness that I’m going to have to accept. “You better be here when I get back.”

  Abby steps into me, and presses her palms against my chest. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  Problem is—I don’t.

  Abby winks then slips back into the crowd. I examine the room. Trying to see if anyone follows, if anyone has a sign pointing them out as a threat. Part of me wants to dash for the truck to get her out ASAP, the other part wants to trail her, but I made myself a promise that I was done chasing.

  She kissed me, I kissed her back, but if she wants to hang with me, she’ll stick with the plan. As I exit the club, I’m not a man full of confidence in bringing home the girl. I’m a man wondering how bad this will get before the night ends.

  Abby

  I’m against the wall, near the entrance and I’m doing my best Navy SEAL as I count the game pieces in the room. Stupid me. I should have caught on faster. Should have seen the strategy being formed, but I was caught up first with the narc and then with Logan.

  Rule number three: don’t allow any distractions.

  Dad ought to be proud of me. I’ve done nothing but surround myself with distractions over the past few months.

  Two of Ricky’s guys are in the crowd. Both of them have made eye contact with me from across the room, but neither has approached, which means the situation we’re in is as bad as it gets. Tommy is the one who meets my eyes the most. He’s the protégé of the only guy I trust in Ricky’s organization, so at the moment, that makes Tommy my tightest alliance.

  Tommy’s all mouse-brown hair and sharp angles. It’s easy to see why Linus picked him to mentor like my dad chose to mentor Linus. Tommy flashes four fingers and I tip my head to let him know I understand. There are four of Eric’s guys here that he’s made—possibly more. Eric is Ricky’s greatest enemy on the streets.

  All around us are people way too young to become casualties of other people’s, specifically my, bad decisions.

  I texted my safe word and location to the anonymous number, following protocol. Now I wait. For a reply from Mr. Anonymous, or a text from Logan saying he’s outside, and my stomach twists. If he texts or calls, I should ignore him and not drag him deeper into this nightmare than he already is, but at the same time, I don’t need Logan trying to save the day if I don’t answer and getting himself killed. Because that would seriously piss me off and make me possibly cry and I fucking hate crying.

  I wait longer than I would have thought for either response then another buzz:

  In my truck. You still in the club?

  Yes.

  Stay put. I’m coming to get you.

  Right as I go to respond, another buzz and it’s not Mr. Anonymous and it’s not Logan. It’s unlisted, unknown and it’s numbers. Fear turns violent and becomes a sharp pain in my chest. It’s a code given to me by my father and it means the foundation on which I’m standing is crumbling.

  It also means to trust no one, not even Ricky himself, and it means to get the fuck out.

  Players, on both sides, have always been known to change allegiance in midcharge and I’m being warned that pieces are shifting.

  A glance up and both of the boys on my side are watching me. So are Eric’s boys. According to the code, I’m prey and any of them staring me down could be the hunters.

  Survival instincts flood my system and all the two million thoughts I’d been having streamline into one—I need to disappear.

  A group of boys maneuver past me. I push off the wall, slip into the middle, and walk with them the several feet needed to reach the exit. The moment I’m out I’m texting the only piece around not knowingly playing the game: I’ll meet you halfway. I need out of here.

  It’s after midnight and the sidewalk outside the bar is still packed with people willing to party. There are a ton of bars on this strip of road and they don’t host teen nights.

  I asked the narc if he was a child of the night. Am I? I don’t know. I love summer nights. I love the heat rolling off the sidewalk. I love the humidity hanging in the air. I love the dark.

  It doesn’t scare me. It’s the people who smile at you during the day while plunging a knife in your back that are the monsters. It’s bills I can’t pay. It’s systems that fail. It’s people preying upon the weak who fill my nightmares.

  My phone rings and I accept it when I spot Logan’s face. “What?”

  “You never listen.”

  “I like walking. Fills my lungs with oxygen. It’s good for the circulatory system. Healthy and all that shit.”

  “I told you to stay put.” I can imagine that serious expression on his face. The one where his dark eyes blow into storm clouds and everything about him becomes clipped. It’s not a huge change, it’s subtle, but I’ve memorized it.

  “Miss me?” I tease because that’s more comfortable than focusing on terror. “Because I missed you, and I wanted to see you faster.”

  “What happened to your plan?”

  “It changed.”

  “You in danger?”

  Yes. “You’re cute. I forgot I’m not capable of walking down a street by myself. Just a friendly stroll and you’ll pick me up along the way.”

  “You sound scared.”

  As I’m scanning the crowd a flash of anger joins the fear he’s hearing. “Bite me, Logan.”

  “I don’t like you on the open street.”

  “Well, life fucking sucks.” I pause and switch mental directions. “You don’t want bullshit—how’s this? I’m in deep and I don’t even know what I’m dealing with.”

  Logan’s silent, and I pray he’s struggling with how to tell me he’s leaving and heading home, but another part of me begs him to stay. Without a ride, I’m an easy target. My need to live and my need to protect him are colliding in my brain.

  “Move!” A loud horn blaring from his end and I check out the road. It’s bumper-to
-bumper. People coming into the area to party, people leaving the area to party. He won’t get here. He won’t reach me fast enough.

  “I’ll come on foot,” he says.

  “Don’t,” and I make no attempt to mask the fear. “You need to get as far from me as you can.”

  “Do you know what I want?”

  I’m betting not being in a messed-up, chemistry—based relationship with a drug dealer is currently at the top of his list. “What?”

  “Quiet.”

  My feet freeze on the sidewalk and a strange eerie sensation crawls along my spine. There’s an exhaustion in Logan’s voice I’ve never heard before and my mind ticks back to Rachel’s original text. Something’s wrong. Beyond me. Beyond my problems. “If you want quiet, you should go home.”

  “It’s loud there, Abby. There might not be sound, but it’s still loud. All I want right now is to find you, and drive along some dark county roads. What do you say to that? Me, you, a dark night, and some quiet stars.”

  An ache ripples through me. It sounds like the devil is mocking me with my idea of heaven because dreams don’t become reality for girls like me.

  “Abby?” he asks. “Still there.”

  Hang up. Mock him. Laugh. Make a joke. Tease. Lie.

  Lie.

  Lie, Abby. That’s what you’re best at. Lie.

  “That sounds good.” It’s a whisper and by the relieved intake of air on his part, Logan heard it.

  “You didn’t listen, did you?” he asks, and I’m grateful for his normal, condescending tone. “You were told to stay home and you didn’t listen.”

  “Do you think I do what people tell me on a regular basis? That’s one step away from being a trained monkey and if you remember, I don’t like trained monkeys. Not since that one bit you in fifth grade. You said the rabies shots were a bitch.”

  Logan snorts and an engine rumbles in the background. “Which side of the road are you on? I don’t want to miss you.”

  A group of guys stumble out of a bar ahead of me and the hair on my arms stands on end as if the reaper had laughed in my ear. A skinny guy. A few years older than me and he appears way too happy to see me. It’s Ricky’s greatest foe on the streets. A guy I’ve threatened in the past. It’s Eric and all of Ricky’s warnings avalanche upon my shoulders. “How far away are you, Logan?”