by Jill Cooper
If Dad is okay, why the phone call? Why can’t I reach him? Maybe I am panicking over nothing.
“You’re not Lara, are you?”
I straighten and study his pinched eyebrows. “Yes, hasn’t he mentioned me?”
“Oh, it’s not that,” the teacher reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “It’s just, this printed this morning…well…you’ll see.”
Gaping, I take it from his clammy hands. Unfolding the note, my nerves on edge, I make out the bold, black font printed on the paper.
Give this to Lara when she comes in at 2:12 pm.
I have what you’re looking for, Lara. You had better hurry. Warehouse 36. East Pier Aquarium.
You have fifteen minutes.
Tick Tock.
My face is wet with perspiration. I gaze up at the clock as it ticks over to 2:13 pm. This person, this woman, whoever she is, had known exactly when I’d be here. She had known exactly what would happen, and when.
The time-travel assassin has my father; that’s the only explanation.
Now I’m the one at a disadvantage and I’m the one the clock races against.
****
In six years, I’ve learned a lot.
Not to be so spontaneous and quick to judgment, or action. Control my emotions, steady my hand. I have resisted the urge to time travel for so long, it’s gone dormant. I can’t access it anymore, no matter what I try.
With my dad in danger, possibly being held against his will, control goes out the window. My logical brain rages at me as I flag down a taxi. Call the police. Get help. It wants to be rational in an illogical situation.
But rational and logic don’t apply.
Time travel is real. It’s being used against me.
Once, I’d been the only one who could stop it. But times are different.
By the time I pay the driver, I have two minutes left on the clock. Racing across the pier, I’m spritzed with water. I slip between two buildings and sprint through to the other side into the alley. Across the way, I find a rundown warehouse with the number thirty-six set in thick, bold letters above the entrance. With barely any time left on the clock, I sprint toward the door, using the full weight of my body to shove it open.
It’s dark.
The door slams shut behind me and the sound echoes through the tomb of a warehouse. Shivers go up my spine as I hear high heels clicking on the cement floor. It sounds as if it is coming from everywhere at once. I can’t get a bead on its location, but I know it’s not my steps; I’m still in my ballet slippers.
I pause so I can get my bearings. Slowly, my sight adjusts to the dark. In the darkness of the shadows, I make out what looks to be a chair. Coming toward me is a silhouette…a silhouette of a woman?
Run!
My insides scream in terror. I’m in real danger. I duck as the area is lit by blindingly bright light. It’s the woman who had killed Delilah. She stands in her silver catsuit, wearing a helmet with blinders. She holds two electrical rods slamming them together to produce the bright glow.
I jump out of the way and roll to the ground and off to the side. “What do you want with me?” I scream at her, but there’s no response.
Now I wish I had called someone to tell them where I was going. Old habits die hard and if I am unlucky, they won’t be the only things that die today.
She pivots on her heel, following me and suddenly she’s on top of me—as if she’s used time as a skipping stone. I rise up on one knee and punch her in the stomach.
My attacker rears back and my vision darts behind her. I can make out the shape of a man in the chair behind her, but the image fades to black as the woman uncrosses her electrical rods. Everything’s dark again.
I can’t see, but neither can she.
I can only hear her breathing.
My heart pounds and my breath shakes with each passing moment. I pull myself backwards on the ground and try to remain quiet as a church mouse. If she finds me, I might not be able to escape again. I might end up dead, And I won’t even know why.
What does she want? Is Cameron Kincaid really holding her leash?
Had I outsmarted her? Had she lost me? I sit still, my breathing returning to normal, and that’s when I hear her. She’s right behind me.
“Lara!” A scream. A warning coming from my dad, but I’ve no time to answer him.
I crawl fast, searching the ground as I go. When I bang into the chair, I feel Dad’s beefy calf tightly secured to its metal leg. I have to get him out of here, but how? We have to move fast.
“Dad.” My heart races with fear. I’m a little girl in a run-down apartment building again, waiting for my dad to come check on me after a nightmare. For a second that image flashes before me, as if I’m really there.
I think I am. His hand is stroking my hair and his lips kiss my wet cheeks. “It’s okay, Lara. It’s okay.”
The intense emotion triggers a quick bout of time travel, but I can’t hold onto it. The present yanks me back as if I’m a chew toy. Back in the warehouse, the room lights up behind me as if it’s daylight. When I whip my head around, time slows down as the assailant tries to press her electrical baton into my brain port.
The last time that had happened, my time travel ability was reactivated. I don’t know if I should be scared of such a thing or if I should welcome it.
I can see the trail of where her actions will lead. I anticipate her next move. My hand clenches into a fist and I slam it into her gut. She groans and her body folds as she flies backward toward the wall. In a flash of color—silver and blue—she’s gone in a hazy cloud, but I can see the streak.
She’s running through time, planning to escape by teleporting behind me.
I whip around and catch both of her arms overhead. Raising my legs up high, I kick her straight in the gut. As she attempts to bash me with her electrical stick, I disappear in a way I thought I no longer could. Through a lightning storm, I reemerge behind her and kick her in the back.
With a grunt, she falls to the floor, as does one of the electrical sticks. I snatch it up and test the weight of it in my hand as the assassin picks herself off the floor. She limps with pain and we’re at it again, meeting blow for blow, caught in an electrical storm behind us, in front of us, and between us.
We’re both traveling in time. We’re anticipating each other’s moves. She’s good. Real good. And I’m exuberant. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I never want to let it go.
“Lara!” My dad’s voice pulls me back to the present.
The visions of all I’ve seen in the electrical storm fade and I stand behind him. I lift a hand and time slows down. I can see where the assassin will appear. I side-step to greet her and extend my hand just as she reappears, to grip her throat.
“Game’s over.” I rip the helmet off her and her facial expression is frozen. Her blue eyes swirl as she glares at me and her soft blond hair falls straight to her jaw.
I know her face. I’m taken aback by who she is.
Cassidy Winters. No, it can’t be. My great grandniece from the future? It’s impossible. She was a nice person. She was—.
She sneers at me now, and the corner of her lip curls. “Game’s only started.” Cassidy disappears again and I’m caught off my game. I spin around, but it’s too late.
She presses her electrical baton against my port. The jolt of electricity cuts off any rational thought in my brain. I see other images I haven’t seen in a while. An old bedroom. A tomboy’s reflection in the mirror.
I smell smoke and realize it’s coming from me. Timelines I had thought were closed, flash in front of my face and only the calls from my dad cement me to the correct timeline. I groan and wipe the saliva from the corner of my mouth. I should be dead, but instead, I’m seeing things I shouldn’t. Things that can no longer be real.
Cassidy is gone, but my dad is there. I kneel next to the chair as I rush to untie him. “Dad?”
“Lara, God…” He
might want to say more, but he doesn’t. We fall into each other’s arms and he grips me tightly. I’m glad for it because I’m a little girl again, trembling on the inside.
My greatest nightmare is about to unfold.
Chapter Twelve
Cassidy Winters is in the past, and trying to kill me.
In the future, Cassidy is a smart and resourceful police officer. She is cunning, and we worked together to save the day—save the future. So, what had happened to her? Had what I’d done in the process of saving the future, destroyed her?
She’d have no memory of everything we had done; only I carried that memory. If she couldn’t remember, why come back to the past to kill me? Why would she hate me that much?
“Lara,” Dad pushes me away to gaze into my face, “I’m sorry. If I knew she was only out to hurt you...”
“You know her?” My face twists as I ask the question.
He nods. “We’ve been out a few times. Nothing serious, but when she struck me from behind and I woke up here,” Dad sighs, “I knew she was using me to get to you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and hurt rolls over his face. The guilt of it all.
I’m the one who should feel badly. I grip his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known.” I couldn’t tell Dad that Cassidy is related to us. I sure hope they hadn’t kissed. Or do anything else.
She’s strong and intelligent; if she’s trying to goad me or outsmart me…well, she’s doing a bang-up job. I need to find out what she wants and how to stop her.
With any luck, I can now use time travel to help me.
“We’d better get out of here before she comes back.”
I don’t tell Dad there’s nowhere we can go that she can’t find us. Instead, when he offers me his hand to help me up, I take it. I feel as if I should be aiding him instead. If Cassidy is intent on hurting my dad to get to me, I have a problem.
A big problem.
How can I save either of them if Cassidy is intent on killing me? And I need to rescue her as much as I need Dad.
****
I take my dad home and I can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dad paces in the living room as I put the teakettle on in the kitchen. Taking out two mugs, I try to ignore my own thoughts and feelings. I try not to focus on what had just happened at the warehouse, but rather on what lies in front of me.
As I open the box of tea bags, a burst of pain hits my forehead—as if I’ve been stabbed. I grunt and pinch my nose together. An image assaults me. I’m standing in the lobby of an office building. There are glass windows and the tile floors shine so brightly, they’re like mirrors.
“You can’t do this, Cass. We’re supposed to be family.” I say it as if I don’t have any say in the matter. I’m playing a part.
She walks towards me. Her silver suit is the same, but her boots are tall and black. She holds the electrical sticks tight to her body, but her appearance is different. Her hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it; down to the middle of her back. “You’ve ruined everything. Cameron showed me. Cameron—.”
“Is a liar!” My jaw grinds together as I side-step, to keep myself at arm’s distance. “He wants to ruin me. Ruin our line. Cameron’s out for revenge, plain and simple. He won’t stop at just hurting me. He has to hurt all of us, and that includes you.”
Cassidy’s eyes flash with anger. “No! He saved me. He saved—without him, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“That is something we can at least agree on.”
The pain recedes and slowly I pull myself back into the present. It’s as if I’d sped down a dark tunnel, seeing nothing but a pinprick of light in the distance. My breathing is erratic and my sense of touch seems lost. I can’t feel the box of tea bags in my hand, and it’s as if I’m not inside my body. I gulp, able to hear my heartbeat as splotches of blood fall from my nose and onto the countertop.
Drip. Drop. Drip.
On the counter, my phone rings, but the sound is muffled as if it’s under water. I’m barely in control of my actions as I pick it up and place it to my ear. “Hello?” It sounds as if it is someone else’s voice.
“You all right? Did you find your father?”
It’s Marcus. My eyes close and I breathe out nice and slow. My heartbeat is returning to normal and the pounding of the drum in my head ebbs. “Yeah, my dad’s okay. Just…was a miscommunication.”
I hate lying to Marcus, but he can’t know…not yet. It might put him in danger too. “Well, good. Since nothing’s amiss, Cameron is hosting a press conference this evening.”
“What?” My eyebrows furrow. A press conference? Already? Well, he certainly was wasting no time.
“He sprung it on me as well. I don’t like it. He hasn’t requested you be there personally, but…” Marcus’s voice drops, “I need you there. We have no idea what it is he’s going to say. It’ll be important for the press and public to see you. I don’t want them to forget why the TTPA was formed in the first place.”
I’m in no shape to go out in public or to pretend to like Cameron Kincaid. “Marcus—.”
“Don’t let this dream go up in smoke. It was yours. Delilah’s. We still need you. Tell me you’re still in.”
His voice is as determined as it has ever been and it arouses the same in me. I take a deep breath. “I’m in. Just tell me the time and I’ll be there.”
“Six o’clock. Tapas at seven. If you don’t want to arrive alone…”
“No,” I squint to fend off a swell of pain, “No, I can scrounge up my own date. Thanks, Marcus.” If Cameron thinks he’s the only one who can play games, he has another thing coming.
****
Dad’s tea goes untouched and he rubs his hands on his thighs. “You’re sure it’s safe for you to go tonight?”
“I’ll be fine.” Over the years, I’ve had a lot of practice at lying and it serves me well. Dad doesn’t even bat an eyelid. I hate lying to him, but tonight especially, I don’t have any other choice. “It’s just work. There will be plenty of security guards around.”
“Like the ones around Delilah?” Dad sighs as he says it and rubs his jaw. “Sorry, that was low of me. Just—sorry. I worry.”
I knew. God, how I knew. I lean in and give him a squeeze. When he hugs me, I fall against his chest and relish his big papa-bear hug. Once, I had thought there was nothing a hug from him couldn’t fix. Going back to those days would be easy, or would be if my time-travel skills are working again.
“In the warehouse.” Dad studies his mug as he spins it on the table. It doesn’t take a lot to see the worry on his face. “I saw what she did. How she disappeared and reappeared. I saw you too, matching her moves.”
Taking a deep breath, I hold it. I wait for him to finish.
He gazes up at me and the shine in his big brown eyes reflect he is troubled. “Everything around you lit up, and it bubbled. Time distorted or something. One second you were there and the next, it’s like you just weren’t. I tried to move, but it was like moving through sludge…” Dad took a long sip of his tea. “You slowed time down around you, so you could be faster. I thought you said you couldn’t do that anymore.”
“I didn’t think I could,” I admit it quietly, not just to him, but to myself, “But when she shocked me…when I thought she might hurt you…” I blink slowly and my mind churns away, “I think they killed Delilah to get a reaction out of me. To get me to try to travel in time. And when that didn’t work…”
“Why?” Dad’s brow furrows. “Wouldn’t that make you more dangerous? To awaken everything you’ve tried so hard to forget?”
“I don’t know what they want, or why.” I chew on the inside of my lip. “Don’t tell Mom, okay? Jax. Molly. Anyone. We need to keep this between us or they might be in danger too.”
Dad grips my hand. “I know how to keep a secret. It stays between us, but be careful, Lara. I waited years to get out of that prison cell. I’m not ready to lose you.”
I smile briefly. When the doorbell rings, I st
and up with dread. Dad squeezes my fingers and peers up at me. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?”
I nod. Truth of the matter is, I don’t have a choice.
When I pull the door open, Donovan stands on the other side. In his best suit, he looks dapper, but the lines on his face are severely drawn. His eyes hold a bit of hope mingled with sadness. He holds a garment bag out to me.
“I hope this will do.”
Unzipping it, I gaze upon one of my favorite dresses. A form-fitting purple dress that really sets off my eyes.
“It’ll do.”
Chapter Thirteen
We ride in the back of the limo in silence, the breadth of the ocean between us once again. Sitting in my favorite dress with my legs crossed, I’m transfixed by the sky. The twinkling lights from the skyscrapers after dark mesmerize me. Gives me something to gawk at so my mind can just be blank. Be somewhere else.
“I was relieved when you called,” Donovan says, finally breaking the silence.
A simple sentence. A simple admission, not one that heals, but still I smile. We are supposed to be married in six days. Six short days, and now I’m not sure if we’ll even make it…if I will make it there—not with Cameron and Cassidy gunning for me.
“I wanted to call this morning. Even last night.” I shrug because it’s better than crying and slowly my eyes drift back to him.
“Why didn’t you?” Donovan’s eyes tick back and forth; he’s unsure if he should look at me. I’m not sure either.
“I wasn’t sure what to say.” The truth of my words hits like a ton of bricks.
“Then I’ll start. I’m sorry. Sorry for all of it.”
Sorry that he did so many things wrong? Or sorry I caught him? I wish we had time to hash it all out, but we don’t. Soon we’ll arrive at the function hall and all of this has to be put on hold.
