Worth It

by Linda Kage

  I opened my mouth to call him a pig when a knock on my door made me yelp.

  “Felicity?” It was Max this time. The good brother.

  He sounded concerned.

  Slicing a worried glance at Knox, I called back, “Y-yeah?”

  “Sweetie, I don’t want to worry you, but someone broke into the house again. We’re not sure if he’s gone yet. So I’m going to stay in your room until you get out, just to be on the safe side. But Father’s already called the sheriff, who should be here soon, so don’t be scared, okay?”

  I gulped and looked up at Knox, who’d gone pale. “Oh, shit,” he mouthed.

  “Umm...actually, I didn’t bring any clothes into the bathroom with me,” I told Max, biting my lip and praying he bought that.

  “Do you want me to bring some to your door?” Max so considerately offered.

  I slumped my shoulders and met Knox’s gaze. His brown eyes swirled with worry.

  “No. No, just...can you wait outside my bedroom door? I’m not sure what I want to wear yet.”

  He hesitated. I was positive he’d tell me no, but then he finally said, “All right, but hurry, okay? Father wants us all downstairs in the sitting room so we can be in one place.”

  “Of course. I’ll be out in a second.”

  I closed my eyes and held my breath until I heard his footsteps move across my room and then my bedroom door close.

  Exhaling silently, I slipped out of the bathroom as quietly as possible, even though I had no idea why I was being quiet about that.

  I tiptoed into my bedroom, and immediately I missed the close intimacy I’d shared with Knox.

  Seeing that the coast was clear, I opened the door fully to set him free. He stepped into my bedroom, very pale.

  “Now what?” he whispered, scowling. “He’s still right outside the door.”

  Oh, right. Crap. Why hadn’t I thought that far ahead?

  I winced. “Window?”

  He glanced over, and his face turned a sick green. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “There’s a trellis,” I offered hopefully.

  He turned back to me. “I hate heights.”

  I gulped. “Oh.”

  This could be bad.

  But he didn’t seem to stress out about his acrophobia. He just drew in a breath and approached the window slowly, studying it like a determined man on a mission...about to face his doom. After he opened the window and stuck his head out to calculate the drop, he jerked back inside and began to breathe hard.

  When he glanced back at me, his eyes were wild with panic. I brought my balled hands to my mouth, beyond worried. I so did not want to make him face his fear. “Maybe you can wait in my bathroom until late, and we’ll sneak you out after everyone’s gone to bed.”

  He gave a vigorous shake to his head. “If the cops are coming, they’ll want to check every room before they leave. Don’t you think?”

  I gave a weak shrug, not sure what would happen.

  He shook his head again. “No, I can do this. The trellis looks sturdy.”

  Looks? What a not-very-reassuring word.

  I watched, biting my fingernail to the quick as he climbed out the window feet first. When the upper part of his body was still inside but his waist down was out of sight, he glanced at me. I sent him a tremulous thumbs-up, and he flashed me a brave smile before stepping down, and then disappearing from view.

  I raced to the window and poked my head out, only to find him still right outside my window, clinging to the trellis and cursing under his breath as he squeezed his eyes closed.

  “Hey,” I called. “What did the mute say to the midget?”

  He looked up, blinking rapidly. “What?”

  I smiled. “Oh, good. I have your attention. Now...just keep looking into my eyes, and then take one more step down.”

  His head slashed back and forth. “I can’t do this.”

  “Knox,” I said sternly. “One step. That’s all. Now do it.”

  Agony filled his eyes, but he filled his cheeks with air and took one step down. Once he had his footing secured, he blew out the breath.

  “You did it,” I cheered. My grin must’ve been contagious because his trembling lips curved up at the corners. “Yeah,” he admitted breathlessly. Then he broke out with a full-fledged grin. “Yeah, I did. I did it.”

  Clapping him on, I called, “Now do it again. One more step.”

  His smile died. “Shit.”

  The sweat beading against his brow matted pieces of his hair together, but that only made him look better. Man, it had to take talent for a guy to look hot even when he was afraid enough to pee his pants.

  “So, like I was saying... What did the mute say to the midget?”

  He scowled at me as he took the next step down. “You really want to crack jokes when I could plunge to my death at any moment?”

  “Of course.” I was pretty sure he didn’t appreciate the forced cheer I put in my voice, but I kept it there anyway. “Now, what did the mute say to the midget?”

  He sighed in exasperation as he eased another step down, and then paused to ensure he was stable. “Hell, I don’t know what he said. You’re short?”

  I sighed, disappointed. “No, genius. He didn’t say anything. Get it? He’s mute.”

  Pausing his descent, he speared me with an incredulous glance. “Really? I could die, and all you came up with was a lame joke like that?”

  “Hey, it’s the only thing I could think up at the spur of the moment.”

  “Well, it sucked.”

  “Well, excuse me. What would you like me to come up with to distract you while you face the biggest fear of your life?”

  “I didn’t say this was the biggest fear of my—” He looked down and immediately blanched. “Oh God. I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

  Still clinging, suspended from the side of a two-story building, he was only halfway to the ground. It’d take him just as long to climb back up as it would for him to go down. He looked gray, as if he might pass out.

  Passing out was bad. If he fainted, he would surely fall...and die.

  Panicking, I blurted, “I kissed a girl.”

  His attention zapped upward. “What?”

  “At a slumber party,” I continued. “We were playing truth or dare, and I had to admit I’d never kissed a boy before, and that sometimes I practiced on my pillow or the back of my hand, or...whatever. So this girl said I could practice...on her.”

  His mouth fell open, and his brown eyes bugged intently. “And?” he pressed.

  I almost snorted. Geesh, what was it about girl on girl action that made guys so excited?

  “And...” Crap. Think, Felicity. “And her lips were really soft.”

  Knox almost missed his next step down. My stomach dropped into my knees, and I had to swallow a scream, but he didn’t even seem to notice his brief stumble. “And?”

  I cleared my throat. “And she, uh, she tasted like cherry lip gloss, smelled like rose petals.”

  I was worried that sounded too cliché, but he murmured, “Holy shit,” like he was really getting into the story. But then he had to go and add, “Really?”

  I couldn’t keep lying, so I sighed. “No, not really.”

  He blinked, confused. “Huh?”

  “I’ve actually never kissed a girl. Or a boy. Or...anyone, really. Heck, I’ve never even been invited to a slumber party before.”

  “But...” He shook his head. “Why would you be so cruel as to lie about that?”

  “You said my joke was lame! I had to come up with something to sidetrack you.” When he opened his mouth, frowning, as if he was going to argue with me, I held up a hand. “And by the way, you only have one step left. You could probably jump to the ground from where you are.”

  “What?” He looked down, and then cursed. A second later, he leapt off the wall and landed on both feet.

  It took him a moment to straighten and look up again. But once he did, awe packed his
expression.

  “Congratulations!” I called. “You did it.”

  He nodded solemnly before bursting out, “I can’t believe you lied about that.”

  I laughed, and he scowled harder.

  “You could’ve at least let me believe it was the truth. You didn’t have to go and crush my fantasy to pieces.”

  “Oh my God. Why are all you guys such perverts?”

  “Because all you girls—”

  The sound of a car coming up the lane cut him short. We both nearly jumped out of our skins, knowing it was probably the sheriff. This side of the house didn’t face the driveway, but it still wasn’t a good idea for Knox Parker to loiter here, arguing with me. Plus, Max was still waiting outside my bedroom door. I’d kind of forgotten about him.

  “You better go!” I hissed as loudly as possible.

  Knox lurched into gear and started to race off, only to stumble to a stop a few seconds later and whirl back as he looked up at my window.

  When our gazes met, I shook my head, confused.

  What the heck was he doing? I waved him away, panicking, sure he’d be caught any second.

  But he only sent me a short, respectful nod before mouthing the words, “Thank you.”

  Then he was gone again, dashing toward the woods.

  Blood sprinted through my veins with a fervor that made me want to grab a pillow off my bed, scream into it as loudly as possible, and jump in an overexcited circle around my room.

  If my first encounter with Knox Parker hadn’t left me with the biggest crush ever, then this second one certainly had.

  Fresh blood was surprisingly easy to clean from leather seats. Just a quick wipe down with warm water, and boom, it looked as good as new. Thank God I hadn’t waited around for it to dry, though. That could’ve been a bitch.

  Spending most of the twenty bucks and eleven cents I had on me, I stopped in at the first car wash I saw, and cleaned and vacuumed the Lexus inside and out. Then I drove it back to St. John’s, where I sat in the driver’s seat with my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, wondering how I was going to get the keys back to their owner, and then wondering what the hell I was supposed to do after that.

  Someone at the hospital had assured me they would contact the pregnant woman’s next of kin, so I didn’t even have finding her husband to look forward to anymore.

  I had no idea where my family was, no idea where to look for them, or where to go, or what to do. I was broke, homeless, unemployed and didn’t have a friend left in the world, it seemed.

  The panic of that reality started to swamp me, so I focused on the one task I did have. I needed to get this car back to its owner, except I couldn’t ask about her at the desk. I’d never gotten her name.

  Maybe there was only one pregnant girl in the maternity ward.

  Or maybe there were dozens.

  I wondered if she had something with her name on it in her car. When I glanced at the glove compartment, I winced, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. But fuck, I needed to get the keys back to her somehow. So I reached over and pulled open the little door. After shuffling through the owner’s manual and a couple fast food restaurant napkins, I found her registration and pulled it out.

  “Zoey Hamilton,” I murmured aloud, staring out the front windshield, before I returned her paperwork to the glove compartment.

  Okay, so I needed to find Zoey Hamilton, or more likely, her husband Quinn Hamilton, since I was sure Zoey was currently occupied. The name Quinn Hamilton sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before, so I shrugged and forgot about it.

  Find Quinn.

  I could do that.

  I stepped out of the car and shut the door. As I was pocketing the keys and wondering where the hell the maternity ward was in this place, someone shouted, “Hey!”

  Without giving the call any notice, I stepped toward the hospital but that voice yelled again, closer this time. “Hey, fucker! I’m talking to you.”

  Finally, I glanced over to see some guy racing toward me, looking furious, with another man hot on his heels. The one in the lead had a head full of dark, messy hair and half his face was scarred, more scarred than the single slash mark bisecting my eyebrow and passing over my cheekbone. The one behind him was full of tattoos and face metal.

  “What the fuck are you doing with this car?” Scarface demanded.

  I glanced at the Lexus, and then back to him.

  “Are you Quinn?”

  A strange depression claimed me. I didn’t want him to be Quinn. I didn’t want to be done with my task yet. It was the only thing I had going for me. Besides, I’d kind of wanted to make sure Zoey and her baby made it through okay. Hanging around the waiting room with her keys seemed like the best excuse I had for sticking around.

  “Do I look like Quinn?” the guy asked, scowling hard as he set his hands on his hips.

  Since I’d never met Quinn, I had no idea what he looked like.

  I frowned back. “Honestly, you look like a dick to me.”

  His eyes narrowed as he took an intimidating step forward. “And you look like a fucking dead man.”

  I sighed, not really into the idea of getting into a brawl when I hadn’t even been released from the pen a day.

  The idiot was probably half a head shorter than me, too. But that didn’t seem to bother him. He cracked his knuckles, and I tensed, ready to throw down if he took a swing.

  But the other guy caught hold of the back of Scarface’s shirt, halting him. “Whoa, hey,” he cajoled easily “Maybe we should, I don’t know, ask him why he has Zoey’s car before pounding his face in.”

  “The fuck with that. He just called me a dick.”

  “No, actually he said you looked like one, not that you were one.” Then tattoo guy grinned at me. “He really is a dick, though.”

  “Hey, fuck you.” Scarface sent Tattoo a glare before shoving him away and spinning back to me. “What’re you doing with Blondie’s car?”

  I blinked, confused. “Who?”

  “Zoey,” he growled before his friend jostled him quiet and added to me, “The girl who owns it.”

  I nodded. Zoey equaled Blondie. Got it. “She was...having some trouble,” I explained, not sure how much I could trust with these people. “I drove her to the hospital, but there was blood, so...I took her ride to the car wash to clean it.”

  My answer seemed to take both men by surprise.

  “Blood?” Scarface made a hoarse gasp. Then his face drained of color, which made his scars stand out starker. “There was blood? Like...a lot of blood?”

  I nodded, and he blew out a long breath before pacing in a circle and running his hands through his hair. “Shit,” he mumbled, while the second man clasped his hands as if in prayer and pressed them against his mouth.

  Their worry let me know Zoey Hamilton must be close to them. So I pulled her car keys from my pocket. “Do you know how I can get these back to her or her husband?”

  Scarface snatched them from my hand and unlocked the car before ripping the door open and peering inside. “I don’t see any blood.”

  I ground my teeth. “I just told you; I cleaned it.”

  He sent me an irritable glance over his shoulder before returning his attention back to the interior as if to make sure nothing was missing.

  Asshole.

  “Why did you have her car in the first place?” He yanked his head from the inside and slammed the door. “How do you even know Blondie, and what the fuck were you doing with her?”

  I arched a brow, silently letting him know he needed to back off. I hadn’t survived over half a decade of hard time without learning a couple intimidation tactics.

  My stare seemed to work because he edged a physical step back, and his friend quickly interceded. “What Ten meant to say was, ‘How did you come across Zoey in the first place?’ She was supposed to be home on bed rest.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she said.” I sighed and popped my neck. I
was used to answering suspicion-filled questions, but I’d never really learned to ignore the irritation that always came with them. “Look, I was standing in a convenience store parking lot when this car came out of nowhere and almost clipped me. After it parked and...Zoey—I guess her name is—got out, I could tell she was in distress, so I put her in the passenger seat and drove her to the hospital. On the way, she told me she’d broken her bed rest to get her husband a birthday present for this weekend. Once I got her here, everyone rushed her inside to take care of her while her car was just sitting there, the doors wide open and blood everywhere. So...I took it to get it cleaned.”

  “You mean, you just...cleaned a complete stranger’s car out of the goodness of your heart?”

  I glared at Scarface, almost tempted to ask if he wanted another scar added to the collection. “She didn’t seem like she was in any shape to clean it herself, and I had nothing better to do.”

  Scarface opened his mouth, scowling back, but Tattoo thumped him on the back of the head to hush him. “Well, thanks, man,” he said with a respectful nod to me. “We really appreciate it. How much do we owe you?”

  I waved my hand and took a leery step back. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  “You sure?” He stuck out his palm to shake with me. “What’s your name?”

  I paused, before taking his fingers and mumbling, “Knox Parker.”

  His grip tightened in mine before he jerked his head back to gape at me. “Holy shit.” He squinted and studied me intently before he tipped his head to the side. “You look totally different.” Then he smiled. “I’m Pick Ryan. You were a couple years behind me in school.”

  Remembering him, I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  “This is my friend, Ten. But don’t mind him; his bark is bigger than his bite.”

  “Hey, fuck you, man.”

  As Ten scowled at him, grumbling more complaints under his breath, Pick kept his intent gaze on me, until his inspection turned into a slight frown. “Last I heard, you were still in prison.”

  “What!” Ten exploded. “Some ex-con was driving Blondie’s car?”

  “Shut it.” Without glancing at the hothead, Pick punched him in the shoulder and continued to watch me, waiting for my answer.