The man said nothing. He only stared up at Nika, his expression devoid of emotion.
Phoenix and Fang saw the oncoming motorcycle before Nika did. It skidded around them, stopping directly in front of her and the mystery man. “Nika, look out!” Fang shrieked.
It was too late.
The man on the motorcycle kicked out his leg, the tip of his black boot connecting with Nika’s head. She fell back, and the mystery man scrambled to his feet. He hopped on the motorcycle, and the two of them sped off together.
Fang removed the gun she carried beneath her coat, aiming it straight for the bike. Phoenix had no doubt she could hit it from this distance, but he laid his hand across her arms. “Don’t.”
“Why not? Did you see his face?”
Phoenix shook his head, frowning. “No, he had a ski mask on, but I got his plate number, and I’m not sure if killing them would do us any good.”
Fang battled briefly with what he told her to do and her desire to pull the trigger. Finally, she lowered the gun and let out an angry hiss.
Nika moaned, distracting them. Blood trickled from her temple. Phoenix moved towards her, helping her to stand. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He held three fingers up. “How many do you count?”
She shot him a disparaging glare.
Yep. She was fine.
He balled up a fistful of snow and held it towards her head, but she jerked back. “Will you trust me?” he asked, frustrated. When she didn’t say anything, he pushed the snow in her hand. “That’s going to knot up unless you put some ice on it.”
She lifted her snow-covered hand and pressed it to her temple. At least she had sense enough to listen, he thought.
“You shouldn’t have let him go.”
“We didn’t have a choice.”
Nika brushed the snow off of her coat. She surveyed the area, sighing. “We had him…we almost had him.”
“I got his plate number,” Phoenix said, hoping it would help. For not knowing what they’d been chasing, Nika seemed much more affected by all this than she should be. “Hey, don’t take it personal.” He patted his coat pocket containing the paper she found. “We still have the list, and we have his plates. It’s not a total loss.”
“Whatever. Let’s just go.”
He nodded and walked ahead, figuring it was better not to push her. Maybe Professor Mason was right when he said Nika needed something. Back on Level 3, everyone thought of her as the crazy girl. And from the moment Nika stepped foot in that house to chasing the mystery man here in the market, she’d been someone else. She’d made smart decisions, kept her head in the game.
Being back in Russia could also have something to do with it. If they were in Oslo right now, or even in London, he supposed the pressure would’ve intensified for him, since those were the only two places he called home outside of Olympus. Nika had grown up here in St. Petersburg, and familiarities surrounded her. That type of nostalgia played at your senses no matter what you did.
When they got back to the car, Fang beat on the hood a few times, letting her frustration out. It didn’t phase Phoenix. He was used to her temper. After she calmed down, she asked, “Are you going to call in the plates?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it now.”
Fang opened the passenger door, climbing inside. “So where are we headed—back to the airport?”
An eerie feeling tingled along the back of his neck. Nika was usually a silent tag along, but it was almost too quiet. He glanced behind him. She was nowhere in sight. There was no sign of her down the street they had come from either. “Um, Fang?”
She climbed back out of the car. “Yeah?” she asked impatiently. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get on the road already.”
“We’re missing someone.”
There was nothing but buildings and cars and an endless expanse of white. Fang’s brows shot up as she scanned the area. When she couldn’t find Nika, she groaned. “Wonderful. That’s freaking wonderful.”
Five
“Don’t you think you should tell Hunter about Phoenix?” Reagan whispered as they walked outside.
Kennedy shot her sister a deadly glare. Now was so not the time to have this conversation. Not when Hunter stood a few feet from them in his driveway.
“What?” Reagan asked, all innocence. “He, like, adores you. You are aware of that fact, right?”
Kennedy pushed on the darkest pair of sunglasses she owned, hoping to go unrecognized in their little town. “I’m aware.”
She caught the snide judgmental glance Reagan gave her as they walked down the porch steps. It only lasted a second, but she felt it reach out and smack her across the face. She paused on the bottom step.
“Look, please don’t do that.” Her gaze traveled towards Hunter, making sure he wasn’t listening. Thankfully, he was busy wiping down his car. She turned back to Reagan. “Not right now.”
Resorting to begging made her feel pretty helpless, especially in front of her sister, but at this point she didn’t care.
Reagan tugged her purse strap over her shoulder. She squinted at Kennedy in the sunlight, and then she looked across their driveway. After a moment, she sighed and steered Kennedy towards the car. “I get it,” she said. “My lips are sealed.” She smacked them to emphasize her point.
“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful.
“Don’t thank me so soon. You’ve still got some major beans to spill later.”
Oh she didn’t doubt that for a moment.
Hunter’s car was a shiny black mustang his dad picked up at the auto-auction a few months ago for his birthday. It was about twenty years old, but the father-son duo had been fixing it up together, and it gleamed as if it were brand new.
He held his arms out as they approached. “So what do you think?”
“Hunter, this is amazing,” Kennedy said as she circled around the vehicle. When he described it over their telephone conversations, she never imagined it would turn out this good. “Like, really amazing.”
A pang of jealousy coursed through her veins. She could only credit herself with a learner’s permit. People didn’t drive cars in space; they used spheres.
Hunter opened the passenger door and held the seat up for Reagan. “Glad you like her,” he said, beaming. “She’s my baby, my pride and joy.”
Kennedy climbed inside and fastened her seatbelt. Hunter shut the door behind her.
“What a gentleman,” Reagan whispered teasingly from the backseat.
Kennedy turned around to tell her sister to shut her face, but Hunter was already opening the driver’s side door. She shot Reagan a warning glare instead, which only earned her an amused chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Hunter asked as he switched the ignition on.
“Nothing,” Kennedy said quickly. She steered the conversation back to car talk. “You’re lucky your dad is a mechanic. This car looks like you bought it straight out of a dealership.”
“Don’t give him all the credit. I’ve worked my ass off fixing Mae up.”
Kennedy to stiffened at the name of his car.
“You named it Mae?” Reagan asked, stifling a giggle. “Mae, as in Kenn’s middle name, Mae?”
Oh God, kill me now, Kennedy pleaded. Seriously, go ahead and take me out of my misery because if I spend the whole day with these two, I’m going to kill myself at the end of it anyway.
“Yep,” Hunter replied, shameless. He pressed a button on the dash. “Mae, take us downtown.”
A bouncy female voice sprang from the speakers. “Right away, Hunter. Now en route to Amelia Island’s Historic District. My travel forecast predicts clear roads. The drive should take approximately seven minutes.”
“Awesome. Thanks, baby.” Hunter grinned at Kennedy, and gave her a look that said isn’t she great?
Reagan continued to choke on her laughter in the back seat.
“Ask Mae to play some music, Hunt,” Kennedy said in a strained voice
. She tapped her palm against one of the front speakers. “Something with lots of bass. Let’s see how loud these bad boys get, okay?”
Hunter grinned. “Coming right up.”
Within a few seconds, music blared from the stereo. Despite how loud it was, the music finally provided Kennedy the chance to relax. She settled into her seat, staring out the window.
Driving into the historic district always made her feel like she was stepping back in time. Victorian houses festooned in gingerbread trim lined the quaint streets, each one more extravagant than the next. Ancient oaks draped in moss shaded the sidewalks, contrasting against bright green palms. They even passed a horse drawn carriage pulling a man and woman for a romantic ride through the town.
Charming, she thought, in an old-fashioned sort of way. Different from Olympus, that was for sure. Two places couldn’t be more opposite, but both of them were justifiably home to her.
They looked for a parking spot seven minutes later, just as Mae predicted. She was still reeling over that one. Guys didn’t name their cars after girls they knew unless it was serious. That was as bad as getting a tattoo. Granted, Mae was only her middle name, but still…
Kennedy stayed quiet through the first couple boutiques they went into, letting Reagan do the small talk in her place while she curiously combed over the racks. When the subject of college came up, something Reagan said threw her for a loop. She wasn’t sure if she had heard her correctly. “Did you say you applied to a community college?”
Reagan pivoted around, then nodded.
“What for?” Kennedy asked, cocking a brow. “You got into Dartmouth. Isn’t that like a done deal?”
Reagan shrugged, her eyes roaming over a shelf of ceramic figurines. She picked one up, inspecting it. “I wanted to have more than one option.” She set the figurine back down and moved along towards the next shelf. “You know, in case I change my mind.”
“Change your mind?” Kennedy repeated, still in shock. “In case of what? Terrorists bombing Dartmouth?”
She rolled her eyes. “No,” she said stiffly. “In case I decide to stay at home. There’s a really good marine biology program in Jacksonville, and where else but Florida provides a better setting to study marine life?”
Kennedy felt her lips part of their own accord. She couldn’t believe what her sister was saying. “Does Mom know about this?”
“Why would she care?”
“Um, I don’t know, Rea. Maybe because it’s batshit crazy, and you’ve got to be out of your freaking mind to choose a community college over Dartmouth.”
Reagan’s face tightened. “It’s my decision, Kenn, and to be honest, I’ve pretty much made up my mind. I’m staying here.”
Silence thickened the space between them. Those words,—I’m staying here—echoed in the air like a closed door. End of discussion. No room for debate.
Hunter cleared his throat. “I don’t see what’s so bad about it.” His friendly tone sounded painfully induced. Lightening the mood wasn’t happening, no matter how hard he tried. “Lots of kids choose schools close to home. It’s more convenient, allows them to be with family—”
“People don’t turn down Ivy League schools, Hunt.” Kennedy sliced into him with her gaze, daring him to say one more word. He was totally taking Reagan’s side, and it was pissing her off.
Hunter shifted his stance uncomfortably. Something piqued his interest on an imaginary rack a few feet away, and he headed towards it.
“There was no reason to bite his head off,” Reagan said in a low voice.
She was probably right, but Kennedy chose to ignore that. “You haven’t told Mom, have you? Tell the truth.”
Reagan let out a small sigh. “No.”
She knew it.
Every time Ashley called, she went on and on about how proud of Reagan she was. It was always Dartmouth this and Dartmouth that. If she found out Reagan was even considering a community college, she was gonna freak.
And it would break her heart.
Normalcy within their family was becoming rarer and rarer these days. Reagan was the daughter that provided a modicum of that normal they were lacking. She did the things families should be proud of, the things mothers wanted for their daughters. Not that Kennedy’s status quo as a protector of earth was something to be ashamed of. It definitely wasn’t. But no matter how many times Ashley told her how proud she was, college would never be a possibility. She couldn’t give her mom that. But Reagan could, and she could do it big. The way other kids only dreamed about. Getting into an Ivy League school, that was really something. Hell, she couldn’t have gotten accepted to one if she’d tried.
“Let’s drop this for now, okay?” Reagan pleaded quietly. “I did that for you about the other thing, remember?”
That was true, minus the digs in Hunter’s car. Kennedy let out a sigh of her own, knowing her sister had a point.
“Besides,” Reagan said. “Today was supposed to be about having fun. I’m not really feeling the fun.”
“Feeling the fun?” She cracked a smile, unable to help herself.
Reagan’s eyes brightened as she nodded. “I want to feel the fun. I want to feel it in every cell of my body. I want to feel it all the way down to my bones.” She took Kennedy’s arm steering her towards the store exit. “Come on, Hunter,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re getting ice cream so our stomachs can feel the fun, too.”
Kennedy shook her head. “Little wonder you made it to genius-level with that astounding vocabulary.”
Reagan punched her in the arm. “Shut up. I don’t care if you did come home all lean and mean. You’re still the younger, bratty sibling, and I can take you.”
Ha! Kennedy thought. In her dreams. Months of karate-induced pains and aches would prove her wrong in a heartbeat. “No, trust me, you couldn’t.”
“Don’t argue with me.” Bells jangled as Reagan held the door open for them. “Or I’ll force you to give me my turquoise dress back earlier than I planned to. Yeah,” she said, catching Kennedy’s incredulous expression. “I know about that.”
How…
Dang. She really liked that dress, had stolen it from her sister because she liked it so much. Giving it back had never been part of the plan.
Hunter caught up with them quickly, relieved to see the tension was gone. “Did someone say ice cream?” he asked cheerfully.
~ ~
Before Kennedy knew what hit her, she found herself having fun with Hunter and Reagan. They found an ice cream parlor a few streets down and nestled into the back booth while arguing over which flavor was the best and laughed at Hunter for dripping hot fudge all over his white shirt.
All former awkwardness disappeared, and the conversation became amazingly easy. It was surprising how easy it was. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time, and it was just…nice. Really, really nice. Like coming out of the water for air kind of nice.
“I never knew you were lactose intolerant, Kenn.” Hunter eyed her vanilla frozen yogurt with distaste. “That must suck.”
She shrugged. “I treat the term ‘lactose intolerant’ loosely. Like a guideline.”
“Loosely?” He pointed his spoon at her. “I’ve seen you devour cheese like nobody’s business.”
A laugh bubbled up inside her. “Oh stop. I do not.” He let out a low snort, and she laughed again. “I like my cheese, okay?”
“She gets lots of stomach aches,” Reagan added, swallowing a spoonful of strawberry ice cream. “Speaking of which, Hunter, I’d be surprised if you didn’t get one from the chocolate fiasco you got going on there.”
He looked at her sharply. “Don’t knock the chocolate, Reagan.”
“I have nothing against chocolate,” she insisted. “But your bowl of ice cream belongs to a menstruating woman crying over a breakup—on the day before she starts her diet.”
Amen to that. Kennedy had been thinking the same thing. He literally piled hot fudge, brownie bites, chocolate sprinkles, and chocolat
e chips on two scoops of chocolate ice cream.
Hunter swallowed a giant bite of the concoction, licking his lips. “It’s my favorite.”
Reagan chuckled for a moment, but it faded out when something behind their booth caught her attention.
Kennedy noticed the direction of her gaze and glanced behind her. There was nothing there but a few empty tables and a magazine rack. She turned back around. “Is something the matter?”
“What?” Reagan shook her head, then refocused on gobbling down her ice cream. “Oh—no. I spaced out for a second.”
That was a lie if she ever heard one. Reagan had never been very good at it; her voice held a singsong lilt whenever she tried. Gave her away every time. Kennedy didn’t press the issue though. Whatever it was, she obviously wanted to keep it to herself.
They lingered in the ice cream parlor for a while longer before heading out. Kennedy was in the middle of throwing her trash away when she got a look at what must have caught Reagan’s attention earlier.
It was a magazine with Phoenix’s name on it.
She slowly walked towards it and picked the square piece of plastic off the shelf. As soon as she did, it animated and the voice of a gossip columnist sounded. “Rumor has it, Phoenix Jorgensen is back with one of his old flames, supermodel Hephsa Hannigan. Sources say they have been spotted all over Neon City together.”
Kennedy felt the pit of her stomach sink as an image popped up of Phoenix holding hands with a stunning blonde outside some swanky restaurant. She shook her head. This couldn’t be true. They had to be wrong.
“A close friend of the on-again, off-again couple says Phoenix seems happier than ever, and that this time it’s the real deal. What do you think, fans? Do you think wedding bells are next for Phoenix and Hephsa?”
She didn’t know about wedding bells, but a few loud warning bells went off in her head as she put back the magazine. She didn’t want to see anymore.
Center of the Universe (Twelfth Keeper) Page 5
