"A damn short one," he pointed out.
"You didn't like the way I was dressed?"
He flicked a glance in my direction. "You have long legs," he said.
"Oh?" I murmured, thinking that sounded distinctly like a compliment.
"Really long," he growled. "So, it's a wonder you can't move any faster."
His sense of humor always takes me by surprise and I couldn't help but laugh. And just to show off, I let go of his hand and started running. And showed him just how fast I can move when I want to. 'Course, he didn't have too much trouble keeping up with me which was a good thing because I didn't know where we were going.
"Turn right, up ahead," he shouted as he jogged along beside me.
I was a little annoyed to realize that he wasn't even breathing hard. "How much farther?" I panted a few minutes later.
"Five minutes at this pace," he answered briefly.
It looked like we were heading toward the football stadium. And it was pretty obvious that he didn't have much to say to me other than "Turn right, Turn left, Straight ahead". Evidently he just needed my help and probably wouldn't have come to me if he'd known anyone else. Except that…he must have known he could go to any of the girls at the restaurant. They'd have been more than willing to take him wherever he wanted to go. And most of them even had cars.
But even if he didn't want to talk, I knew I had to. I had a whole lot of things to get out there. So I got started. "I heard what happened at the restaurant," I said, reducing my pace to a fast walk. "How you saved Mama from that nutcase with the gun."
"And?" he said without looking at me, intent on getting me to wherever we were going.
"I think I might have misjudged you," I admitted in a low voice.
"You think so?" he asked, no trace of a smile on his lips.
"Maybe a little," I answered.
"Maybe a lot," he growled.
"I'm sorry," I said and left out the part about being SO sorry and the groveling and begging his forgiveness and all that stuff. Because while all of that sounds okay in the planning stages, it's harder to pull off in real life (and still sound sincere). But I knew I was off the hook when his mouth twitched in that almost-smile of his.
"I bet those are two words you don't use very often," he said softly.
"Touché," I muttered, wondering if I'd ever forgive myself for screwing up so badly. "I guess I deserved that."
"Aye," he agreed. "You deserved that."
Up ahead, I could see the sun rising over one of the underpasses near the stadium. Leo and I had been there only a few hours earlier and I shook my head at the idea, thinking we must have just missed Force.
In the cool shadows beneath the underpass, Force finally slowed down to a walk, apparently looking for something on the wall. When he found what he wanted me to see, he pointed at a bunch of graffiti. Mixed in with random splashes of color and a large black stencil, were some bright blue symbols that I assumed were tags. But one of them reminded me of an elongated yin-yang symbol. The other was a large circle capturing a smaller circle at the top.
Force touched the blue circle like it was a map to a lost treasure. "These are runes," he murmured. "My family's runes."
I looked at the symbols on the wall then moved my gaze to the blue one on his neck. "Wait a minute," I said slowly. "You mean there are two more guys in Denver who have tattoos on their necks, like yours?"
"At least two," he answered. "Like mine, but different. This is Victor's rune," he said, running his fingers over the blue circles painted on the wall beneath the bridge. "And this is his brother's, Reason," he said, moving his hand to the yin-yang sign. I was expecting to find Chaos and Courage's runes before I found these. But this is good."
"There's some more blue graffiti over there," I pointed out and moved in that direction. "But most of it has been painted over."
Force seemed surprised and even a little excited. "It looks like Chaos's rune," he murmured. "Chaos was with me when we were separated from the rest of the family. That would mean he's found his way back to his brothers."
"And if he can do it, you can do it," I suggested, turning to face him. "So, each of you wear a different symbol tattooed on your neck?"
"These…symbols are our names."
"Really!" I said, surprised. I checked the tattoo on his neck, which kinda looked like two banners waving in opposite directions. "How is that rune supposed to represent your name?"
"What's the strongest force on earth?" he countered.
"I don't know. Earthquakes?" I guessed.
"A force doesn't have to be destructive to be powerful," he said. "Does my rune look like an earthquake?"
"Not really," I answered, although I don't know how you'd represent an earthquake using a few lines filled with color.
"What does it look like?" he demanded.
"Flags?" I guessed.
He sent me a disappointed look. "You can do better than that."
"Waves?" I tried.
"Close," he answered. "It's meant to be the ocean."
"And how does the ocean mean Force?"
"Don't you know?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching again.
I sighed and planted my hands on my hips. "Help me out here. I live in a land-locked state."
"My rune represents the ocean currents, one of the strongest forces on earth."
"Ohhh," I murmured, suddenly charmed by the whole idea of wearing your name on your neck. Then I thought about what mine would look like and decided it wouldn't work for me. "Okay, so these are your family's runes. Why do you need my help?"
He pointed at some numbers painted beneath the runes in the same shade of bright blue. "These numbers. What do they mean?"
"They're probably a phone number," I answered, surprised that he didn't make the connection.
His chin lifted suddenly and his eyes lit up with hope. "You mean we can call this number with a phone and connect with my family?"
"We could," I said hesitantly, hating to break the bad news to him. "But the last three numbers are missing."
"What do you mean by missing?"
I pointed to the white paint that had been splashed on the wall by another artist. "Someone painted over the last three numbers."
"So these numbers…aren't useful at all?"
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Couldn't we try different…combinations…of the last three numbers?"
"I'm sorry, Force. Math isn't my best subject but I'm thinking you're talking about thousands of combinations."
It was hard to watch the hope die in his eyes. It was even harder watching that hope turn to frustration and anger. "I'm sorry," he barked. "I guess I wasted your time, dragging you out here to see this. I guess I should have known about the missing numbers."
He was right. He should have known there weren't enough numbers on that wall to make a phone call. It was weird…the things he seemed to know about…and the things he didn't. But I couldn't stand to see him so disappointed. "This graffiti message shows that your family is trying to find you, just like you're trying to find them. Maybe they left other messages."
"Do you think so?" he asked slowly.
"Absolutely. That's what I'd do if I were them. Why don't we split up…and look around."
"You don't have to help," he muttered.
"I know. But…I want to."
He held my gaze. "Why?" he asked quietly.
"I…don't know," I answered. "I just feel bad about the way I acted when you lost your job. I should have asked what happened. I should have let you tell me about it. And I feel like I owe you."
"Any other reason?" he asked.
And for a minute I honest-to-god thought he was fishing for some sort of confession…that I cared about him or something like that. How ridiculous is that? "I just want to help," I said lamely.
"Alright," he said, going all formal on me (not the response I was going for). "I accept your help, Camie White."
So I climbed the grassy
slope beside the underpass to check out the short walls up above, while Force walked down the road a ways to explore the next bridge.
There was no graffiti up on top of the underpass. Well, there was graffiti (of course) but not the kind I was looking for. So I started back down the roadway to the top of the slope. On my way there, a long black limo turned the corner on the road below, slowing down as it pulled up next to Force.
It wasn't the right part of town for a limo (except on game day) so I assumed the driver was lost and had stopped to ask for directions. And I picked up the pace, thinking Force probably wouldn't be much help.
But Force's sharp gaze locked on mine before I started down the steep incline. And he lifted his arm, stretching out his hand. "Nay," he shouted. "Stay there. Stay there, lass!"
My first inclination was to ignore him because I've never been very good at taking orders. But not-listening-to-him had turned out so badly for me only the day before. So I frowned back at him but slowed down, wondering what was going on.
I don't know what Force had seen inside that limo, but whatever it was he didn't like it. And pretty soon, I didn't like it either. Because three guys spilled from the car and quickly surrounded him. And they were big guys. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was the guns.
I watched, frozen in horror, expecting something terrible to happen, helpless to stop it from up there on the bridge. Not that I could have helped Force against three big guys with handguns if I had been down on the road with him.
But I'd underestimated Force.
You'd think a guy with a shiny collectible wouldn't stand much chance against a bunch of armed men. But you'd be wrong. Because Force had that sword out of its sheath and in his hand faster than you could blink. And that blade was slashing through the air before any of the men could get a shot off, slicing toward their hands and hacking the guns to the ground…along with at least one thumb and three fingers.
Uh-huh, you heard me right. Fingers and thumbs! And blood! I quickly discovered I don't share my great grandma's interest in blood, clamping my hands over my mouth to cut off a scream. Then, before I had the chance to recover from the shock of severed extremities, a shot came from inside the car and a bright red spot appeared in the middle of Force's chest.
My heart stopped beating. Like, dead in its tracks.
Now, I was ready to scream. Now, I wanted to scream my head off. I wanted to scream for help. But I didn't have any air in my lungs to scream with. I was locked in paralyzing terror and horror. And crippling guilt. Because I couldn't even move enough to pull out my phone and call 911.
It was the most horrible, helpless feeling I've ever known in my lifetime. Force had apparently taken a bullet in the chest and all I could do was stare.
Chapter Nine
I watched that red spot in the middle of Force's chest for the next eternity until I finally realized…
It wasn't blood. It was too bright. And the stain wasn't getting any bigger. In fact, now that I had a chance to study the red circle, it didn't look like a stain at all. It actually looked more like the feathered end of dart, like the kind they use to put large animals to sleep.
Like elephants…and lions.
I watched Force slump to his knees, momentarily propped up by the sword he clamped before him in two hands. Then I watched as his face started to tilt toward the ground. And finally, I was freed from the terror that gripped me. My reflexes kicked in, my legs started pumping and I raced down the slope, trying to get to Force before his face hit the pavement. (I wasn't going to get there in time, but try telling that to my reflexes.)
And while I was sprinting down the grassy hillside, a ridiculously tall man with a long white ponytail stepped from the limo…and caught him for me.
"No!" I screamed, running toward him with no particular plan except to scratch somebody's eyes out.
I saw enough of the man's profile to know he wasn't as old as his hair suggested. He wasn't bad looking, his features almost aristocratic…and cold. He flicked his chilling gaze at me as he dragged Force's sagging frame into the limo and I got a glimpse of dark, soulless eyes.
His thugs raced for the doors and followed him inside the car, the doors slamming as the limo sped past me, laying rubber as it turned the next corner and leaving me alone on the road splashed with blood.
I was too late to help. But not too late to recognize the driver. Uh-huh. Even though the windshield was shaded, I could see that the driver was the same man who'd chauffeured Olivia Olander to Mama Chan's.
But even if I hadn't recognized the driver, I would have made the connection between Olivia and the giant Legolas who'd kidnapped Force. I'd have known him by his white hair and soulless black eyes. And eventually I'd have decided that whatever Olivia was, he was one too.
"Force," I whispered, and immediately realized that wasn't very helpful. Romantic, maybe. But not helpful. I could have called the police at that point but I knew they'd wait at least twenty-four hours before they did anything at all. And I didn't think it was safe to wait that long before getting help to Force.
"Leo," I whispered this time and pulled out my phone. I punched in his number but there was no answer so I sent a quick text message and started running. I had to get to Leo's house. He had a car. He could help.
After I'd cleared the bridges around the stadium, a couple of busses passed me but I didn't bother with them. I kept going, knowing I could outrun the city busses any day of the week.
The morning sun lifted into the sky and spread its warmth over the city as I hurried through town. I wasn't paying much attention to where I was (not that I normally do) and that was probably a mistake considering I had to cross some of the rougher parts of the city. Not that I ran into any gang trouble. (Unless you consider Eli and LeShawn and two of their friends a gang.)
I never even saw them, which meant I hadn't improved much at noticing things. Eli plucked me out of the air in mid-stride and hustled me into a back alley with the help of his trolls. They were out looking for Force and wanted me to call him on my cell phone. They wanted me to tell him I was in trouble and needed his help. They said they just wanted to talk to my boyfriend, but between the brass knuckles and the knives they were carrying, I was pretty sure they were looking for more than conversation.
I told them Force didn't have a phone but they didn't believe me so a lot of time was wasted before they decided they'd all go "wait it out" at my place until "my boyfriend" showed up. I tried to tell them he wouldn't be coming because he wasn't my boyfriend and he'd been kidnapped anyhow. But they didn't believe that either.
So all five of us ended up at my place.
If I hadn't been in such a hurry, I've have let them sit there in my apartment until they realized they were wasting their time and decided to give up. But I didn't have time. So I offered them some cash to let me go. And they were more than happy to take my money—all eighteen hundred dollars of it (my entire college fund). Then they started ransacking the place just to make sure there wasn't any more cash hidden anywhere. They even trashed Darryl's room, which was a complete waste of time (because anyone who knows Darryl knows he doesn't have any money).
After destroying both bedrooms, they moved into kitchen and started searching there. They didn't find any more money but they did find the beer in the fridge and Darryl's bottle over the stove. And when about half of the whiskey was gone, they started getting sloppy and careless. I used the occasion to slip out the door, and was down the stairs before they even noticed I was gone. After that, it was all over. None of those wasters were ever gonna catch me.
I'm in good shape but I was sucking air by the time I reached Leo's house. By then I was frantic about the time I'd lost and didn't even bother knocking. I tried the door and it was unlocked so I busted right into the living room where Morris was slumped on the couch, playing Halo.
"Where's Leo?" I gasped, leaning over with my hands braced above my knees.
"Hell if I know," Morris drawled, barely
looking up at me. "Haven't seen him since breakfast."
I dragged in a lungful of air. "I need a ride to Boulder. Now."
Morris kept playing, coolly knocking out three bad guys and a helicopter with the flick of his thumb. "What's your hurry?"
I stalked across the room and hit the power button on his console, killing the game. "Now!" I demanded.
I thought he'd be pissed at the way I'd shut down his game but he didn't look too upset. He dropped the controller on the couch and narrowed his eyes on me. "What do I get in return?"
"I'll pay you," I offered swiftly. (Even though I didn't actually have any money at that point, thanks to Eli and his trolls. But I figured I could always get back to work selling stuff and pay Morris off over time.)
A slow smile spread across Morris's face. "That's not what I want."
"I don't have time to negotiate," I snapped. "You can have anything."
He slanted a look in my direction. "You know what I want, Camie."
"Yeah, I know," I growled. "And you'll get it." Okay, it was a snap decision. And I could hardly believe what I was getting myself into. But the way I saw it, I didn't have much choice.
Morris stood and stretched like he was in no hurry, and took his time getting to the door while I wanted to scream at him to hurry his ass up. "What about conditions?" he drawled when we reached the black truck in the driveway.
"I'm waiving all conditions," I answered. "Now get in the truck."
Morris grinned and slid into the driver's seat while I hopped in on the passenger side. He turned the key in the ignition and looked at me. "I don't have to figure out what your name means?"
"No conditions!" I shouted, looking over my shoulder and trying to will the truck backward.
"When?" Morris asked.
When. The word hung on the air like a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks that separated me from the help I needed to get to Force. But once I agreed to this, I'd have to do it with Morris. And after that, what would Force think when he found out? I hesitated.
"I don't want you pulling any tricks on me, Camie. I don't want you telling me you'll pay up in five years."
Force Page 10
