by S. R. Grey
I know Farren pays Haven’s bills, so it’s no surprise he has this info.
“Where was the card last used?” I ask.
“Indiana,” he replies, “near Indianapolis.”
“That’s a few hundred miles away,” I remark. “We should probably get started soon.”
Farren turns slowly, until he’s fully facing me. He raises an eyebrow. “We, Essalin?”
“That’s right,” I state. “I want to go with you.”
Said out loud, I realize my statement is true. In fact, I not only want to go with Farren, I have to go. To hell with my parents’ wishes; fuck summer school. I’ll deal with the fallout later. In the meantime, I have enough money in the bank to pay my own way. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to pitch in for gas, eat on the road, and rent my own hotel room when we stop. In my heart, I know this is what I’m meant to do. Finding my best friend is my destiny. Fate has set me on this path. An inevitable detour led me here, to this turning point, and this is the juncture where I choose how to respond.
With newfound conviction, I say, “I want to help, Farren. I can’t just sit around here and do nothing. I love Haven, too. She’s not just my roommate; she’s my best friend.”
Hearing my voice crack, Farren’s expression softens. His lips press together, forming a grim line, and I’m led to believe he’s actually considering it.
Helpfully, I offer, “I’ll be safer with you than if I stay here. What if Eric and Vincent return? They might, you know. After all, I have seen their faces.”
I’m just trying to get Farren to agree to let me accompany him. But the serious look he shoots my way tells me that all I’ve said is a distinct possibility. “Shit,” I mutter.
“You can come with me under a few conditions,” he says at last.
“Okay, I’ll agree to anything.”
That remark causes him to raise an eyebrow, but he refrains from any smartass retorts. He just lays down the parameters. “First, we’ll be taking my car. Your car stays here.”
I nod, agreeing. “That’s fine.”
He continues. “Second, we do this my way. There are things only I know”—aha, Farren does know more than he’s saying—“and if I tell you to do something or not do something, believe me, it will be for a damn good reason.”
With a raised eyebrow of my own, I ask, “Is that all?”
“For now,” he responds.
“I can live by those rules,” I declare. And then I add, “What should I do now?”
Farren smiles a smile that, unbeknownst to him, melts not just my panties, but me into a thousand pieces.
“Pack some things,” he says. “We need to leave as soon as possible.”
Nodding, I conclude that despite the dire circumstances, I am in for one hell of a wild ride with Mr. Farren Shaw.
“Time is of the essence, Essalin. The abductors have more than a two-day lead on us.”
Farren’s words from before I left him in Haven’s room so he could continue to search for clues resonate in my head. I’m in my own room now, tossing an assortment of summer clothes into an open suitcase I dragged from my closet to the bedroom floor.
I work fast, especially when I hear Farren leaving the apartment. Minutes later, I am making my way down the inside stairs that lead to the front door on the first floor. Farren turns from his position at the base of the stairs. His hand remains on the doorknob, but he watches me amusedly while I bounce my heavy, overloaded suitcase down each individual step.
With a suppressed grin, he eventually lets go of the doorknob and steps onto the lowest step. “Here, let me help you with that,” he says, reaching out.
His stretch is long, reaching me easily even though I’m a few steps away. I gladly relinquish the heavy bag and follow Farren down to the door.
But when I linger, Farren asks, “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” He hoists up the suitcase and sarcastically adds, “Seems unlikely, considering the weight of this thing.”
“Very funny,” I retort. “And, no, I didn’t forget anything. It’s just that I was thinking about things I should do before we leave town. I don’t have much money on me, but I do have a small savings at the bank—”
Farren clears his throat, interrupting me. Softly, he says, “You don’t need to take money out of the bank. I’ll cover all our expenses.”
I start to protest, but he shushes me. “Don’t argue with me, Essalin. Just because you’re going to be safer on the road with me than if you stayed here alone doesn’t mean the trip is without risk. This isn’t some vacation. We could run into trouble. Real trouble…” He trails off, giving me no more.
I arch an eyebrow, hoping to prompt him to continue, but all I get in return is stony silence. Just like I suspected when we were upstairs in the apartment, I sense Farren knows more about what’s really going on with this situation involving Haven than he’s saying. But since I can’t make him talk, I sigh and agree to let him pay for everything.
“But, if expenses get out of hand, I’m paying you back,” I state resolutely.
“Whatever, Essalin,” Farren replies, chuckling. “I think I can handle it.”
True, Farren is loaded, but I refuse to take advantage.
With a trip to the bank deemed unnecessary, I start to walk past him. But then his hand touches my arm lightly, sending a delicious rush of warmth through me. I falter and stop. He removes his hand, much to my chagrin, and steps back.
Though it was only the lightest of touches, I liked Farren’s hand on me. Just like when he covered my mouth in Haven’s bedroom, after he grabbed my hand and I dropped the pepper spray, his touch was gentle, yet firm. It held promise, promise of how I’ve always dreamed of being touched. Touched by a man, not a boy.
“There is one more thing I should mention,” Farren says.
I cross my arms to appear nonchalant. No need for him to notice he’s affecting me again without even trying. “What’s that?” I casually inquire.
“If there’s anyone you’d like to talk to before we leave, you should call them now.”
“Why?”
“I can’t allow you to take your cell phone on the road, so there will be no calls from here on out. In fact, you need to give your cell to me before we leave.”
“W…what?” I sputter. “Why?”
Farren drags a hand through his neatly trimmed dark hair. Though it’s short, the strands appear silky and soft, making me wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through the raven locks.
“Your phone can be tracked, Essalin,” Farren says as explanation to my question.
And suddenly I can’t take it anymore.
“I told you to call me Essa,” I snap. The stress is wearing on me, clearly. I miss my friend, and I want answers. Not to mention I’m afraid of this unknown journey I’m about to embark on. Damn. But what has me so edgy and lashing out is that I’m far too attracted to this man I’m supposed to be partnering with, professionally partnering with.
I start to apologize, but before I can, Farren bites out, “Okay, Essa.”
Guess he’s not immune to the stress of the situation, either.
“I’ll give up my phone,” I concede, my voice apologetic. “But can I ask you something?”
Farren remains silent, but he’s not saying no, so I forge on. “What aren’t you telling me? Do you know Eric and Vincent? I just don’t get why they would they do something so…so…sinister.” My eyes implore his beautiful greens. “You know something, don’t you? Personally, I think this whole thing has something to do with you.” He raises a brow, and I add, “I’m telling you, Farren, I thought about it all weekend, and I can’t come up with one single reason why my best friend would be abducted.”
Coolly holding my stare, he asks in a low voice, “And how, Essa, would her abduction be tied to me?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
And then he touches me again, differently than before. His fingers graze my jaw and linger on my cheek. Holy hell
, this is seduction. His hand on my arm was nothing, just a prelude. I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy how a man who obviously knows how to touch a woman can make me feel. I don’t care if Farren is just doing this to placate me.
His seduction works—soft touches, softer words. When he whispers, “Just let it go, Essalin,” I nod into his hand.
“I’ll let it go,” I murmur.
“No more questions,” he says.
I nod again. “No more questions.” Oh, please keep touching me.
But he lowers his hand from my face, and like a spell that’s been broken, I open my eyes. After a long silence on both our parts, most of which, for me, is spent recovering, Farren says, “So, what about those calls? Do you have any you’d like to make?”
“Um, yeah”—I sigh—“I should call my parents.”
Farren nods an assent, but warns, “Don’t mention anything about Haven being gone.”
I frown. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“And don’t tell your parents how far away you may be traveling.”
My eyes meet his. “You don’t think we’ll find Haven in Indianapolis, do you?”
Pain flashes in eyes as vibrant and green as emeralds, and I have my answer—Indianapolis is just a starting point, a place to search for clues.
I take out my phone and sit on the bottom step. Farren goes outside to give me some privacy, and I then call my parents.
Regardless of his warning, I never intended to disclose all that has happened. But, because I am an adult—like Haven reminded me during our last night spent together—I do finally take a stand.
When I inform my mom I won’t be staying on campus this summer, which means no summer classes, she flips. “What the hell, Essa? Your father and I already told you no to New York City.”
“I’m not going to New York,” I calmly reply. It’s true.
Sounding confused, Mom says, “Where do you plan on spending the summer then, if not at school?”
Like there are no other options, I think to myself with a roll of my eyes.
My silence results in my mother continuing. “Don’t even think about coming home for the summer.”
I wouldn’t.
“Your father and I are not going to put up with you lazing around the house.”
As if.
“Not when you could be doing something much more productive.”
Productive? Wonder if searching for my missing best friend qualifies as productive? As far as I’m concerned, it’s sure as hell a lot more meaningful than taking classes I don’t even need. Bottom line, Haven is in danger and rescuing her trumps everything, including my parents’ priorities.
“I’ll be helping out a friend this summer,” I tell my mother. Another truth told.
She doesn’t ask for elaboration. All I get is a sigh and this: “Do what you want, Essa. But know that there will be repercussions come fall.”
The rent is paid up on the apartment until September, but I suspect said repercussions will include a move back to the dorms for me, just like I told Haven.
“Whatever,” I say, sighing. And then I add, “I have to go.” One final truth uttered.
I do have to go. I so very much do.
Talking with my mom leaves me feeling kind of down, so I don’t have much to say as Farren and I walk to where he parked his car a few blocks away. I spend the time trying to distract myself by imagining what kind of fancy car he may have brought to Oakwood. Haven is always going on and on about how Farren loves expensive sports cars. He supposedly owns more than a few.
When Farren stops next to a white, boring midsized sedan, I am sorely disappointed. He laughs when he catches me frowning. “Expecting something different?” he asks. He turns away and pops open the trunk.
“Yeah,” I admit, hanging back. “I kind of was.”
His muscular body blocks my view of whatever he’s messing with in the trunk’s interior, but I’m cool with that. God, his ass looks amazing in blue jeans. I prefer that view to whatever is in the trunk.
“Like what?” he asks, back still turned, and oblivious to my ogling.
“Um, I don’t know”—I clear my throat and try to focus—“maybe something a little sportier.”
“Sportier?”
“Yeah, you know, like a Ferrari or something.”
Farren coughs out an amused laugh as he places my suitcase in the trunk. With ease, I take note as I watch his rather impressive arms flex.
He slams the trunk shut and turns back to me. “This is just a rental,” he explains, gesturing to the car. “We’ll be changing out vehicles every few hundred miles.” He starts toward the driver’s door and tosses out over his shoulder, “But, hey, I’ll work on getting us that Ferrari.”
I assume he’s joking and roll my eyes. But, damn, I like his witty retorts.
Yeah, you could say Farren is surpassing everything I ever dreamed he’d be. Even when he’s kind of a cocky smartass—which is often—I like him. In fact, I like that he’s not a pushover or some jerky college boy. I like that his face is stunning to look at, and I like that he has a body to drool over. I like his confidence; I like his style. And, truth is, I like that he’s a little dangerous…and a whole lot mysterious.
I just wish the circumstances that have brought us together could be different.
My arm is out the window, my hand swishing through the air. It may not be a sports car, but, damn, I’m making the most of the miles Farren and I are covering in the boring white sedan. We’ve been on the road for a few hours and most recently passed a sign indicating we’ve crossed in to the state of Ohio.
“Ooh”—I point to a lush, green field dotted with cattle—“check out those cows. Those two by the big oak tree over there are totally doing it.”
Farren hunches down to squint through the windshield to the spot I’m indicating. “Yep,” he agrees, “they sure are.”
And then, we both burst out laughing at the inanity of it all.
“Get a room,” I yell out the window.
Yeah, it’s stupid and silly, but I’m having fun. So far, I like traveling with Farren. He’s surprisingly easy to be around. Or maybe that’s just how he is with me. We seem to just kind of click. We haven’t said a whole lot, but that’s fine. Farren’s been busy driving, and I’ve been enjoying the sunshine and fresh air coming in through the lowered windows. My arm has been out the passenger-side window more often than not. I now pull it back in and glance down at my black shorts and hot-pink tank top layered over a black bra. I hold my arms out in front of me, side-by-side. My right arm is clearly tanner than my left.
Just for the heck of it, and in the interest of an even tan, I ask Farren, “Do I get to drive at some point?”
Farren shrugs his wide shoulders. “I’ll think about it,” he replies.
His tone is light and teasing, so I mumble “smartass,” and then take a playful swat at his hand on the steering wheel. He’s way too fast, though, and I end up tapping the wheel and not him.
When he laughs, I playfully warn, “I’ll get you next time.”
He replies, “Good luck with that.”
I have a feeling he’s right. His reflexes are fast, far quicker than mine.
A few minutes later, we begin to pass a long line of trucks. The road noise becomes unbearable with the windows down so I hit the control to raise them. Without taking his eyes off the road, Farren turns on the air conditioning. I smile over at him, and when he feels my gaze on him he glances my way and smiles back. It’s too hot in the car when the windows are up, so we’ve devised this synchronized routine—alternating between fresh air and AC, me on window duty, and Farren in charge of interior climate control.
“We have a good system,” I remark, just to see what Farren will say.
He doesn’t look over at me again, but his lips curve up into a grin, and then he replies, “We do.”
A few minutes later, I pull my left knee up, place my foot flat on the seat, and rest my cheek against m
y knee cap. This position affords me a comfortable, resting view of all the farmland and countryside we’re passing.
“You sure are enjoying yourself, Essa,” Farren says.
I lift my head and turn to him. “I am enjoying myself.” I then explain why. “It’s because I’ve never been anywhere.”
“Not even to Ohio?”
“No, this is the first time I’ve ever left the state of Pennsylvania.”
“You’re kidding me.” Farren sounds surprised. And why wouldn’t he be? I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman, not a child. I’m sure he figured I’d traveled at least a little bit before today.
But I haven’t. This is a first.
I try to explain to Farren, “Yeah, my parents were never into traveling.”
“No family vacations?” he asks.
“Nope.” I sigh. “They were always too busy working, and when they had time off they preferred to stay home.”
“What about you?” Farren asks. “You could always travel with friends, or by yourself even.”
“I guess I’ve always been too afraid to go anywhere by myself,” I admit. “And none of my friends have ever invited me to go anywhere with them.” Except for when Haven asked me to come to New York City this summer, I think, but don’t add.
“Well, you’re traveling now,” Farren says quietly.
“True. And I can totally count this as traveling with a friend, right?” I pause, and hurriedly add, “I don’t mean to assume anything, Farren.”
He looks over at me. “Of course I’m your friend, Essa.”
I mark that point in time—this is the moment my friendship with Farren Shaw officially begins.
A little while later the subject of family arises when Farren asks, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, it’s just me.”
I almost add that Haven is like a sister, but I’m hesitant to say something so presumptuous to her only sibling. I don’t want to intrude on their relationship. Farren and Haven are exceptionally close, thanks to their rough childhood. I can’t even imagine what it was like, having their father disappear forever. There one day and then gone the next. And then, a few years passed and they lost their mother in a car accident. How terrible. My parents are a pain, yes, but I do love them. Sure, they’re tough on me, but that’s just their way. I know they ultimately want the best for me. Unfortunately, they just don’t always know what that is. Not that I’m all that sure either, but I’m trying to figure it out.
