Maybe something else I’m learning about myself is that I can be thoughtless.
“No, what I need from you is to explain what exactly happened to put you in a position where you think you needed to steal my car.”
My stomach drops, and I sort of do lose my appetite then.
“Right now?” My voice comes out more like a squeak.
“No time like the present.” He shrugs, and I realize he’s changed clothes, now wearing a navy colored, baggy sweatpants and a crisp white T-shirt that doesn’t cling to him, yet shapes him well enough that I see his obvious muscles. His arms are drool-worthy as his sleeves stretch out over his biceps. I doubt there is a shirt in this universe that wouldn’t be tight over those guns.
The ends of his hair are a little damp at the back and front. His hair is still wavy on top and disheveled, like he just ran a towel over it. I take a deep breath and smell the soapy freshness coming off him.
If I wasn’t so stressed out over this turn in the conversation, I might have been distracted by how good-looking Zander actually is.
Instead, I scramble for a way to get out of having to tell my story.
“What about Van? It’s not really appropriate for his ears,” I quickly rebut.
“Talk to me until he comes out, and then we can continue later. He takes forever to shower, so you have some time.”
I glance down at my hands and think over the fucked-up story. How did my life come to this? I was just a webpage designer who did temp office work to subsidize my wages. Now I’m someone on the run with almost zero cash and no idea what I’m supposed to do. I used to have things figured out. Now I have nothing.
“Ava,” Zander says on a sigh. “I made a choice back in that parking lot to not say anything to that officer. You need to give me something to make me believe I made the right choice. There is no reason I can’t just take you down to a police station right now and hand you over. What you did was a felony. Not to mention you took Vaughn, accident or not.”
“I know. You’re right.” I shake my head, hoping to clear my thoughts, but they remain jumbled. “It’s just that this is hard, and I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with why you’re hiding from the police,” he says calmly, and for some reason, his voice is reassuring. He exudes assurance and control. There is something about him that makes you think he’s got this, can handle it, and not to worry. I’m sure it comes in handy with his work.
“I can’t trust them,” I admit, my situation beginning to press down on me again. “I went to the police before, and they just handed me over to him. I don’t know who I can trust there.”
“Handed you over to whom?”
“Brian.” Just saying his name aloud gives me shivers and the urge to rub some soap in my mouth.
“Your ex?” he confirms.
I begin to nod, then realize he should have no idea who Brian is.
“Y-yes.” I begin to shake in earnest now, my thoughts going to the worst place, assuming how Zander could know that. “How did you know about—”
“Vaughn never disconnected the call,” Zander quickly assures me, his eyes leaving the frying pan to give me his full attention and for me to see the truth in what he’s saying. “I was listening to you talk in the car the entire time.”
“You were eavesdropping?” I gasp, somewhat worried over the number of things he would have overheard and wondering how many times I called him a tool-bag. However, I’m more relieved there isn’t some sinister reason he knows Brian is my ex. What if this had been a trap and he was holding me here until Brian came to get me? I would have been screwed.
“You called me; how is it wrong if I didn’t hang up?” he points out, turning back to the frying pan.
“But that was a private conversation.”
“Yes, and it was held in my car, which you stole. I don’t think you can make me out to be the bad guy here. Besides, I know you’re just stalling now. Keep talking.” He flips the omelet over, and my mouth waters a little at the sizzling noise.
I can’t say he’s wrong about me stalling, but how am I supposed to say out loud what I saw? Especially after what happened last time!
“Fine.” Just that one word has me trembling. “Brian Clarke is my ex-boyfriend and an FBI agent. We dated for almost a year and a half and, up until three days ago, we were still dating.”
“What happened three days ago?” Zander’s tone stays gentle, and while he’s not looking at me, I know I have his attention.
I take a deep breath. Am I ready to say this out loud? The last and only time I told someone, I ended up back with Brian. I will be dead if he gets his hands on me again.
“Look, I really want to trust you, and honestly, I know you probably have zero connection to Brian and what I discovered. I know Van is a good kid, and you did me an incredible favor when you didn’t have me arrested tonight. On top of that, you let me into your home and are cooking me something that smells so delicious my stomach hasn’t stopped growling in about five minutes.” I wince at revealing that part, but quickly move along before he can interrupt me. “But I also had my entire life turned upside down three days ago. I trusted someone who turned out to be a monster. I learned I can’t even trust my local police. My life is in shambles, my future I once saw is gone, and instead, I’ll be lucky to even live past this week.”
I pause in my rant to take a deep breath before setting off again, not allowing Zander to say anything when it looks like he is about to speak. “I’m not saying I won’t tell you what I saw. I just need a minute to clear my head, to think this through and to be sure I want to get you involved. Because, once you know, you can’t unknow. And if he finds out you know, then you might be in as much trouble as me. You have Van to think about.” I’m breathing heavily now and have to grab the counter to keep myself from falling off the stool.
“Are you done?” He has his eyebrows raised and has taken the pan off the stove.
“Umm … I think so.” I consider if I missed anything, but I’m quickly brought back to the present when Zander begins his own rant.
“I don’t ask questions lightly. I understand you’re in trouble and that your troubles have meant you need to be hidden from the police. I can see you’re scared and likely homeless with what I assume is nothing with you since you carry no bags. I see no visible outline of a purse so, unless you have stashed your personal items somewhere else, then you are probably incredibly screwed when it comes to food or a safe place to sleep. If the police are looking for you, then that not only means no home, but also no friends or family you can be sure aren’t being monitored. So, unless you actually think strangers are as helpful and generous as I have been tonight, then you better take your chances with me.
“I run a private investigative company and, though we might be newer and less experienced than many of our competitors, we’re fucking dedicated and have many resources and connections. I can help you with this situation; however, I’m going to need to know what the fucking situation is. If I deem it’s too much for me or my people, then I will put you in touch with someone who can help. Got it?”
Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows, and I manage to get in a nod before Van stumbles out of the bathroom, steam following his retreat.
“What smells so good?” he asks, jumping up on a stool next to me and eyeing the plate in front of me hungrily as Zander places a mouthwatering omelet on it. “Breakfast for dinner!” he cries, smiling at me before searching for his own food.
Zander places the pan back over the stove and gets to work on the next omelet.
I take a tentative bite, not ready to give it the benefit of the doubt like the risotto, and find this omelet to be perfect.
My stomach overrules any embarrassment or table manners as I quickly scoff it all down.
“Wow. I’ve never seen a girl eat like that,” Van says, embarrassing me, before his focus shifts to his own food when Zander places his plate down. “So, what is your favorite video game?�
�� he asks me between bites.
“I don’t really play video games.” Somehow, I don’t think The Sims counts to Van. “How about you?”
I barely have the words out before Van goes off on a tirade, his fork waving wildly around as he tells me about several games he loves and ones he was disappointed in. They all involve some sort of violence, which is likely a prerequisite for a twelve-year-old.
Eventually, he ends his video games tirade and seems to be thinking hard about his next question. “What is your favorite movie?”
“I don’t know … I loved the movie Juno. How about you?” I smile my thanks at Zander when he gives me another omelet. I eat this one much more sensibly.
There is a dining table behind us that is half covered in papers, newspapers, and other things, yet there is still enough room for the three of us to sit comfortably. Instead, Van and I stay on the stools, eating at the kitchen counter, while Zander leans against the sink as he eats his own omelet. It feels relaxed and casual. I like it.
It’s nice to not be tense and stressed, even if this isn’t likely to last for long. Soon, I will be back out on the streets and all on my own. Well, unless Zander thinks he really can help me.
Dare I hope?
“I like Olympus Has Fallen,” Van says proudly.
“Aren’t you a little out of the age group for that movie?” I glance over at Zander, who just shrugs at me.
“It’s cool. There are guns and helicopter crashes, and the good guys win.”
I nod, trying to think if I have seen that movie. “Well, Gerald Butler is hot,” I concede, which gets me a frown from both guys.
“What is your favorite sport?” Van finally asks, finishing up his food and dropping his fork loudly.
“I used to play basketball, but I admit I enjoy watching baseball. Cubs all the way.”
Zander groans, while Van cheers beside me.
“Zander hates them. He’s all about the White Sox. He thinks they’re great, but I think they suck.”
“They don’t suck. You just hate them because I like them,” Zander complains.
“They do, too, suck. You agree with me, don’t you, Ava?”
“Well …” I give Zander an apologetic wince before I finally agree with Van. “They did lose pretty spectacularly to—”
“Nope!” Zander quickly cuts me off. “We don’t bring up losses in this home.”
“Yeah, because they sucked last year, and they will this year, too,” Van grumbles.
“Shut up and clean up your dinner, Vaughn,” Zander snaps, making the light mood quickly dissipate.
Van glares at Zander before turning to face me, an evil smirk over his mouth. “All of Zander’s baby photos are of him in pink dresses because Mom thought she was having a girl. He had a pink nursery, and everyone told her what a gorgeous little girl she had when they saw him.”
Zander’s mouth drops open in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Mom told me loads of stories about you, so stop calling me Vaughn.” He growls that last part.
“It’s your name. I won’t stop using it.”
“Then I guess you won’t mind me telling Ava about the time you brought that girl over for dinner and were so nervous you threw up all over her,” he snaps, his voice rising with his anger.
“Seriously, I couldn’t care less about that. You think you’re embarrassing me, but really, you’re just embarrassing yourself,” he barks at Van, and I see the hurt cross his face as if Zander had physically struck him.
This needs to stop now before these boys say something they can’t take back.
“If your mom thought she was having a girl, what was his name supposed to be?” I blurt out, my quick thinking only extending to that.
“That’s not import—”
“Agnes, after our grandmother,” Van talks over Zander, a triumphant smile on his face when I can’t help laughing.
“That’s an awful name for a kid. But I don’t know … I guess I could see Agnes.” I wink at Van, and he smiles even brighter. “Perhaps, if he can call you Vaughn, then you can call him Agnes,” I suggest, ignoring the scowl coming from Zander and wondering if I’m not just ensuring that he won’t help me by purposely antagonizing him. Is this some sort of self-sabotage thing?
“That’s a great idea!” Van beams.
“You steal my car, take my brother, and instead of having you arrested, I take you to my home and feed you, and this is how you thank me?” Zander grumbles.
“Shut up, Agnes,” Van growls, wasting no time in implementing the new nickname. “So, Ava, what is your favorite food?”
I hesitate a moment, fearful if I open my mouth, I might say something else I shouldn’t. But with Van staring at me expectantly, I can’t be rude and not answer him.
“I love pizza and usually pasta. Maybe not risotto any longer.” I smile as Van laughs.
“I love those, too. My favorite used to be my mom’s apple pie. She made it the best.” His smile dims a little. I can practically feel the grief swirling around these two guys. They are both still heavily grieving.
“Wish I got the chance to taste it,” I say softly.
“She would have liked you,” he tells me confidently.
“Really?” I glance at Zander to see him staring at Van in confusion and shock.
“Yep,” he replies, as if what he’s suggesting isn’t at all outrageous.
“Why? Did she like people who stole cars?” I joke, knowing I’m no mother’s favorite right now.
“She would have liked you because I do,” he states in such a matter of fact way that it touches my heart.
“Well, I like you, too. Not many twelve-year-olds would have been so calm being in a stolen car with a stranger. You were brave,” I compliment him, not that either of them take it like I expect.
“He could have taken you if he wanted to,” Zander says assuredly, and now it is my turn to glare.
“I can be scary. I could have hurt him if I wanted to, which I didn’t,” I quickly say.
Both are shaking their heads.
“You might have gotten a lucky shot in—maybe. That’s it, though,” Zander concedes.
“You have no idea what training I have. I could be a black belt in karate,” I blurt out, feeling more indignant than I likely have a right to feel. Who am I trying to kid here?
“Okay, what training do you have?” Van asks, his smirk an easy indicator that he doesn’t believe I know a thing about fighting.
I frown at being called out on this so quickly. Do I really look that pathetic?
“That’s what I thought. Zander can teach you some moves. He knows how to kill someone with one move.”
“Vaug—” Zander freezes midsentence, and I watch Van smile at this. “Van, you don’t say things like that to people.” He looks at me now. “I’ve never killed anyone. However, if either of you think you will be calling me Agnes, I might make an exception.”
“Call me Van and we won’t have a problem.” He shrugs easily.
Zander seems to think this over, his expression not one that says he’s overly happy right now. Then he sighs heavily and shakes his head. When he opens his mouth, I wonder if he’s about to get into another argument with Van, or if he realizes this is a battle not worth fighting.
“Clean up the dishes and get ready for bed,” Zander says instead.
“Oh!” I gasp, manners kicking in a little faster this time. “I think I should clean up. It’s the least I can—”
“Nope. This is one of Vaughn’s chores, and there are no excuses to not do them.” Zander’s voice is stern. This is probably another topic they fight over.
“Whatever you say, Agnes,” Van retorts, grabbing my empty plate and his own before stomping over to the sink to begin filling it with water.
Zander narrows his eyes on Van for a moment, but soon he shifts his attention to me. “Do you want to clean up? Have a shower? I have some clothes that might work for you, and I think there is a new toothb
rush somewhere in the bathroom.”
“That would be great,” I immediately agree.
I might mainly be saying yes for selfish and hygiene reasons, but I also think Zander might want a talk with Van in private. Since I have now forced a new nickname on him, I can’t blame him for wanting to do this talk alone.
I take his offered towel, sweats, and toothbrush before closing myself into the one and only bathroom.
I don’t know how long before I am kicked out of this house and back on the streets, or how much longer I have away from Brian, so I am going to make each moment count. It’s just an added bonus that taking my time also means a little more time before I have to go through the story again. Living it has been hard enough. Too much, actually.
I probably should have realized that I will have to tell my story more than once in the coming days. In fact, I soon have much more to add to my horrible story.
Why couldn’t life just give me a freaking break?
Chapter 3
After spending long enough in the shower that the water begins to cool, I force myself to leave and face the music. Although, staring at my naked body in the mirror is more confronting than I expect.
My long, dirty-blonde hair is slicked back, drawing attention to my pale face, the dark circles under each eye, and my thin nose and lips. Not even the hot shower has added color to my skin. Part of me still feels chilled.
There is a handprint bruise over my arm, and a large, ugly bruise over my ribs where I was punched. Seeing that doesn’t exactly ease my fears.
If I end up back with Brian, I know the chances of me escaping again are slim. He will expect me to run, but will he resort to murdering me? Since he was my boyfriend for almost eighteen months, there will indisputably be questions he will struggle to answer if he does. Although, he is close friends with the local cops, so who is going to ask those hard-hitting questions?
They are. Which means they will also cover for him if needed.
Will anyone care if I disappear? Many of my friends are Brian’s friends, so their loyalty will be to him. Truthfully, I only saw those people at the occasional barbeque or birthday bash. I doubt they will notice if I completely disappear. Otherwise, my other friends are all online. They will realize if I go quiet, but will they care enough to kick up a fuss? Will they just think I decided to go offline for a while? And my temp jobs don’t inspire long-term friendships.
I Stole His Car (Love at First Crime Book 1) Page 5
