The Rush (The Siren Series)

by Higginson, Rachel

  “Well, I don’t know, I just need to be…. sure,” I finished lamely.

  He ran a hand over his face again and growled out a frustrated sound. Then he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “This is taking up too much time. I just want my money and then I’ll be gone. I won’t bother you anymore. I promise. Although I strongly suggest that you stay away from anymore poker games. You are obviously not nearly lucky enough to be as careless as you are with your money.”

  That got my attention. “Wait,” I held up a hand like I was asking him to stop his vehicle. But then I didn’t know how to go on. Gambling? This sounded way too convenient…. way too coincidental. A man comes to my door, demanding a seven thousand dollar poker debt minutes after my crook of a roommate robbed me blind and then headed off to rehab for a gambling addiction? “Ok, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but why don’t you just tell me who you think I am. That might make things easier.”

  A smug smirk turned his mouth and he said with confidence, “Eleanor Harris.”

  That caught me off guard. Because he was right. “Um, Ellie,” I corrected before he stuck to calling me Eleanor. Ugh! Even if he were here to murder me I would make him call me Ellie.

  “Fine, Ellie Harris.”

  “Ok, you know my name, but you don’t know anything else about me. Like for instance, I don’t owe you any money!” I argued, still wondering how he knew my name.

  “Alright, let’s see, you’re a sophomore, originally from farther up north. You transferred to La Crosse spring semester last year. You were originally at University of Madison but you wanted to be close to your boyfriend who turned out to be a cheating douche bag. He broke up with you two weeks ago for another girl and since then you’ve gone from being a straight A student with a nearly perfect attendance record to skipping all of your of classes, doing your best to fail out of school and now you’ve apparently acquired a gambling addiction with a side of pathological lying.”

  “What!” I would have made a terrible reporter. “I am not a liar! And I have never gambled a day in my life! And I’m not trying to fail out of school! A girl is allowed to take a few sick days after her three year relationship ends! How can you possibly know so much and so little about me at the same time?” This was possibly the most exasperating conversation I had ever had.

  “I make it a point to know all my players, Ellie. Especially ones that come into the game waving money around like you did,” he explained patiently with that same cocky smile on his face.

  I had the strongest urge to smack him. And I had never, not in my entire life, ever felt like hitting anything before!

  “Clearly you have me confused with somebody else because I have no clue what you are talking about!”

  “That is not going to work on me!” the anger was simmering under the surface again, his eyes turning almost black with emotion.

  “Ok, Ok, Ok,” I backtracked quickly. “I can see that. So, just for fun, how about you explain to me exactly how I came to owe you all this money and then we can figure this out together. I want you to get your money just as badly as you do, I promise, alright?”

  He seemed to think that over for a minute, his face relaxing back to movie-star-stranger instead of serial-killer-hit-man. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which version I liked best.

  “Alright, fine. We can do this your way. Especially if you promise you’ll help me get my money,” he said evenly and then waited for me to answer.

  “Yes, I promise. I mean, I know I don’t owe you the money. But if there is any way I can assist you with it, I’d be glad to help.” What I didn’t say was that as long as I didn’t have to shoot, stab or bury somebody I would be glad to help. Really, I meant like a stern, authoritative letter I could put a stamp on and mail for him. Plus, these were mostly just empty promises until I could get him out of my apartment, lock the two deadbolts, slide the chain and then call the police.

  “About a week and a half ago, you contacted me about joining the game. I had heard your name around campus and knew that your request was entirely out of the ordinary for you. So I started to ask around about you and that’s when I found out you just got dumped. It made sense then, why you would want to play. Even if I didn’t think it was a good idea, I’ve been dumped before, I guess I could relate in a way.”

  “You’ve been dumped?” I scoffed before I could stop myself. He was gorgeous, all testosterone and muscles, standing in the middle of my kitchen with his gray t-shirt, loose jeans and flip flops. Plus, he was more than just a little intimidating; I could hardly believe a girl found enough courage to break up with him.

  He seemed to find this more amusing than anything and actually broke into an eye-twinkling grin. Yes, his eyes twinkled. I was so shocked by the expression I had to look away. He was more dangerously good looking than ever and a strange heat lit a fire in my belly. So I cleared my throat and pretended that never happened.

  “Sure, I’ve been dumped,” his smile turned wicked and I suddenly felt like he was laughing at an inside joke. “So I know what it’s like to do something reckless after the heartache.”

  I snorted. “There wasn’t that much heartache. Trust me. You were right when you called him a cheating…. uh, you know.”

  “Douche bag?” he questioned.

  “Yes, that,” I blushed a deep red. I wasn’t a missionary. But Ok, sometimes curse words made me uncomfortable. Which was kind of surprising since I grew up with three brothers that basically existed with “R” ratings attached to them: strong language, violent behavior and sexual content.

  He actually let out a soft chuckle at that. I was becoming unending entertainment for this guy and I was suddenly hit with a flash of irritation. He didn’t know me!

  Although… he kind of did know me. Or at least a lot of random facts about me and it was definitely weirding me out.

  “Anyway, when you proved you had the buy-in, I decided to give you a chance. I mean, who was I to judge your methods of coping, am I right?” he asked and actually waited for my agreement.

  “I guess so,” but an ugly foreboding feeling started to unfurl inside my chest and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

  “In fact, if you remember, I even advised you to hold back some since I didn’t want to see you lose everything at once.”

  “And you advised me how?” I clarified, trying to piece this together. Except I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. Buy-in? Game? None of this was making sense.

  “Private message,” when I gave him a blank look, he continued, “online.”

  “Online,” I repeated.

  “Yes, online. But you didn’t listen to me. And then you got in way over your head, lost and now you owe me seven thousand dollars.” He finished arrogantly and I almost expected him to bow.

  “I lost in a game of….” I prompted slowly, so afraid of the answer my hands had started to tremble.

  “Five-Card-Stud.” When I continued to just stare at him, he finally added. “Poker. Online poker.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I winced. Suddenly the puzzle was pieced together and in front of me. I was going to be sick. I was going to be really sick. I reeled in a circle, desperately searching for a place to sit down, but all of my furniture was gone. Another wave of clarity rippled through me and my stomach actually lurched this time. I took off for the kitchen sink and gripped the stainless steel basin. I ignored the anal retentive voice inside me screaming about germs, not because I wasn’t worried about them, but because thinking about them was making it worse. I choked on a gag and then dropped my head forward so I could breathe in and out deeply through my nose.

  “You’re not going to….? Are you going to be sick?” the guy asked from behind me. He didn’t sound concerned, just really grossed out.

  I waved an aggravated hand behind me, hoping he would get the hint and just leave. He didn’t, or if he did he ignored it and instead walked over to the fridge and opened it. I heard him rummage th
rough the practically empty appliance; my college sized budget didn’t cover much more than a value pack of Ramen Noodles. I heard the telltale sign of a pop can opening and then the fizzy bubbles of ginger ale were tickling my nose.

  He placed the can to my lips and then tilted it back before I could protest. I took a small drink and then stood up before he could force anymore down my throat. The carbonated beverage settled in my stomach and coated the nausea with something soothing.

  Ok, that felt alright.

  I took the can from his hand, my fingers accidentally brushing over his before I took possession and then sipped another soothing drink.

  “That wasn’t me,” I finally choked out, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “What?” he asked and I jumped by how close he was.

  I took a step back, opened my eyes to meet his and said slower, “That wasn’t me. I didn’t place the bet, or play the game or whatever. It was my roommate, she must have…. stolen my identity! I swear to you, not even an hour ago I found this note that said she had a gambling addiction and she was going to rehab. She owes me money too! “

  A long, very still moment of silence stretched between us before he said, “She stole your identity?”

  “Yes!” I squealed. Even I could tell how high pitched and annoying that was, but I couldn’t help it! “And my furniture,” I said with further emphasis.

  “I was actually wondering about that,” he said pensively.

  “So you see? It’s not me that owes you seven thousand dollars, it’s her.”

  “But she’s gone? To rehab? With all of your furniture?” His phrases sounded like questions, but they didn’t feel like them. It felt more like he was trying the words out, rolling them around on his tongue and deciding whether or not I was lying.

  “Yes!” I answered anyway, hoping he would believe me.

  “You can see why your version of what happened is hard to believe,” he sighed and if I didn’t know better, or if maybe I wouldn’t have slapped my hands over my eyes, I would have been able to assure myself there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice, or the sound of him smiling. Those things were all products of my delusional imagination…..

  “Yes, I could see why, but it’s the truth,” I promised, struggling to peek from behind my fingers.

  “Regardless of what happened, your name is still signed on my contract, you still owe me my money,” he stated finally.

  “Contract?” I croaked.

  “Online document, your initials were used. Unless you have a way to prove to me that it wasn’t you who signed the document, I have to assume it was. I mean, that’s a lot of money. It’s not exactly like I can just look the other way.”

  “But it wasn’t me! I’m sure I can prove it, I just need…. time,” I pleaded, my head spinning with every kind of crazy thought to get out of this.

  His hand went up to cup his chin in thoughtful silence for a while. His eyes roved over me again, taking in every piece of me as if to weigh it on his internal truth scales and decide whether to trust me or not. Finally, after several minutes of quiet, he said, “I’m a nice guy-”

  “You’re not a nice guy. You’re a scary guy,” I confessed honestly and probably a little frantically before I could think better of it.

  A rush of laughter fell out of his mouth before he could compose himself, “You don’t even know me!”

  “You’re right! I don’t even know your name,” I pointed out, suddenly realizing that should have probably been the first thing I found out.

  “Ah,” he stewed on that for a moment and then said, “Finely Hunter.”

  I gulped. “Finely Hunter?” Ok, the online gambling thing made sense now. Because Finely Hunter, the senior track star, rumored to go through girls like Kleenex’s during flu season and ditch more classes than he attended, was also rumored to run an online on campus gambling site the university had no idea about.

  “Fin,” he smiled at me. “You can call me Fin.”

  “You are a nice guy,” I drawled.

  His grin widened to wicked trouble. “So nice, I’m not going to make you give me my money tonight.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I have a solution that will help both of us get what we want,” he announced confidently.

  “You do?” I asked dryly with so much less confidence at the same time I wondered what it was that he thought I wanted.

  “Just don’t forget, you promised you would help.” The hard, authoritative look returned to his eyes and a shiver of nerves climbed up my spine.

  I nodded because there was nothing left to do. I needed time to think this over, to hunt down Tara and strangle her until dollar bills popped out her eyeballs.

  And now an excerpt from Down ‘N’ Derby, the third installment in the Love and Skate Series by Lila Felix

  Chapter 2

  Reed

  The lady across the street made a grave mistake by opening her garage yesterday. I swore I saw at least eighty boxes of Girl Scout Cookies over there just waiting for me. And then she closed it. Doesn’t she know my everlasting craving for cookies? I tried to get a stick from the yard and say “Comehereium Cookiosa” but it didn’t work. And has she sent her daughters over here to sell them to me? No.

  Freakin’ Girl Scouts.

  I’m in trouble. I’m in so deep that I’m looking through shit shaded lenses. If one of them looks at me point blank and asks whether or not I’ve heard from him, I’m dead. Because I don’t think I could bold faced lie to them. Hiding something was one thing but openly lying to my family was another. I understood all of those months in which Falcon hid the house thing from me. It hurt my heart to lie to Falcon, to Nellie, to all of them. I justified it to myself saying that even if they knew where he was, he would still go through with finding his dad. But I knew the truth, I was a dirty liar. This whole thing was tough. Mostly because Falcon would be hurt beyond belief. But Mad made me swear. It’s that fine line we all rode on. I would never expect Falcon to tell me Nellie’s secrets. I’m sure those two gossipers had plenty of stories and I didn’t expect for him to tell me a single one.

  Mad was in Arkansas the first time he called me. It was the time he made me swear on my parents’ dead souls that I wouldn’t tell. I have this tiny black and white marbled notebook that I write down where he calls from and the phone number; then I delete it from my phone. God help me if Nellie actually takes the time to look at her phone records. The second time he called it was from Oak Grove, Arkansas. I snuck on my laptop and Googled the location. Nixon also called me once. He whispered, so I assumed Mad didn’t know. They had made it to Missouri and were stopping for the night. I kept track of it for my sanity and for safety’s sake. God forbid if something happened to him, I would at least know where he was last.

  Falcon felt horrible. He blamed himself for Mad leaving. He gave Mad five thousand dollars as a graduation present and we assumed that was the money which funded his trip. He beat himself up about it more and more every day. I think Mad assumed we would all move on. I don’t know how he could’ve underestimated how much we loved him. He was our clown and he made us all happy. Owen was the brawn, Falcon was the brains and Mad was the clown. He was just as important as anyone else. I cried for hours and hours on the night he left after Sylvia called everyone.

  Falcon and I were supposed to get married in a month but without Mad, we both refused. It just wouldn’t be right. Falcon would never vow to marry me without all of his brothers beside him and I didn’t blame him one bit. No matter what Sylvia said or even what Mad said; he was Falcon’s brother. My future husband held me as I cried for my wedding, for his lost brother, for Sylvia’s heartache, for my best friend.

  And Owen and Nellie—they had finally decided to start trying for another baby. But now that Maddox was gone, it was like our whole world stopped. Plus, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to get pregnant ever again. But I was the only one who knew that.

  Chase was practically comatose. He stood in the kitc
hen looking out of the window while Sylvia explained to us why Mad was gone. She started the story twenty years prior…

  Expected Release Date: May 1, 2013

  Catch Lila’s antics here:

  www.authorlilafelix.blogspot.com

  Facebook: Lila Felix (author)

  Twitter: @ Authorlilafelix

  And now an excerpt from Wide Awake by Shelly Crane

  A girl.

  A coma.

  A life she can't remember.

  When Emma Walker wakes up in the hospital with no knowledge of how she got there, she learns that she's been in a coma for six months. Strangers show up and claim to be her parents, but she can't remember them. She can't remember anyone. Not her friends, not even her boyfriend. Even though she can't remember, everyone wants her to just pick up where she left off, but what she learns about the 'old her' makes her start to wish she'd never woken up. Her boyfriend breaks up with the new girl he's dating to be with her, her parents want her to start planning for college, her friends want their leader back, and her physical therapist with the hazel eyes keeps his distance to save his position at the hospital.

  Will she ever feel like she recognizes the girl in the mirror?

  Please enjoy an excerpt from Shelly Crane's new novel, WIDE AWAKE, available now.

  Someone was speaking. No, he was yelling. It sounded angry, but my body refused to cooperate with my commands to open my eyes and be nosy. I tried to move my arms and again, there was no help from my limbs. It didn't strike me as odd until then.

  I heard, "All I'm saying is that you need to be on time from now on." Then a slammed door startled me. I felt my lungs suck in breath that burned and hissed unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It was as if my lungs no longer performed that function and were protesting.

  Then I heard a noise, a gaspy sound, and my cheek was touched by warm fingers. "Emma?" I tried to pry my eyes and felt the glue that seemed to hold them hostage begin to let go. "Emma?"