"I dunno," I said. "I sort of know him."
She grinned. "Yeah, I know. I was with you that day, remember?"
"Well, actually," I said, "I've run into him a few times since then."
"No way!" she said. "You've been holding out on me? C'mon, you must know him pretty good if you're not wanting to see him –" she lowered her voice to a suggestive tone. "– in the flesh."
Oh, I wanted to see him in the flesh, alright. I just didn’t want to see that flesh pressed up against the flesh of some other girl.
"Holy shit," she said. "Don't tell me he was your date."
"Uh, something like that."
"Oh. My. God," she said. "You slept with him. Didn't you?"
Chapter 50
Technically, Lawton and I didn't do a lot of sleeping. But looking at Erika's eager face, that particular fact didn't seem terribly relevant.
Looking at me, her eyes were bright, and her face eager. "You did," she said. "Didn't you?"
"What?" I stammered. "I never said that."
She was grinning. "But you did."
I stood. "Hey, you know what? I'm forgetting the popcorn."
She slapped her hand over mine. "Get up, and you're dead, sister."
"What?"
"You heard me. I want details." She leaned forward. "And I want them now."
I glanced at the disk, and then at the microwave, and then toward the front door.
"Don't even think about it," she said.
"Think about what?"
"Escape. There is none. Tell me now, before things get ugly."
At this, I had to laugh. "I wasn't plotting an escape," I said.
"Liar. Now c'mon." She held up a hand. "Wait! On second thought, I do need popcorn. You sit. I'll pop. You need to conserve your strength."
"For what?"
"For giving me every gory detail. And don't be cheap on me. I'll know if you're holding out."
I rolled my eyes. "If I tell you," I said, "do I still have to watch the tape?"
"Hell no!" she said. "Well, not unless you want to, um, for comparison purposes."
"Have you watched it?" I asked.
"Sort of."
"What do you mean 'sort of'?"
"Well, I walked in on Debbie watching it Sunday. So I caught the tail end." She held up a hand. "Don't worry. It's a new disk. She wouldn't let me have the old one."
In the end, I told Erika everything. She swore up and down that she'd never tell anyone, and I swore up and down that I'd share any new developments. To be honest, I wasn't exactly sincere, but I liked to think she was. In fact, I was counting on it.
And once I got started, I couldn’t stop. I pulled out my phone and showed her the picture of him sleeping. I held my hand over the lower half, so she couldn’t see all of him.
"But I've already seen him naked," she protested. "Remember? The tape?"
"Why do they still call them tapes?" I said.
"Huh?"
"Everything's digital now. But we still call 'em tapes."
"Who cares?" she said. "Show me the picture."
I gave her a look. "I'm not gonna show you a naked picture of my boyfriend. That's just creepy. Besides, I wouldn't like it if he did it to me."
"God, you're such a stickler." She sat up straighter. "Wait a minute. Did you just call him your boyfriend?"
"Um, well, honestly, I don't know what he is." I grinned. "But I do like him. More than like him, actually."
She looked down at the half-covered picture. "Wow," she said. "Just wow. So he really does look like that?"
I felt myself swallow. "Oh yeah."
"No wonder you don't want to share."
She was right. I didn't.
In the end, we popped in a romantic comedy and had the popcorn with that instead.
Sometime during the closing credits, I remembered the thing about Thanksgiving at my Dad's house. But when I invited Erika to join me, she shook her head. "Sorry, but I'm going skiing with my parents. You could come with us if you wanted."
"I wish," I said. But I couldn’t do that to Josh, and besides, I had my responsibilities here.
She leered at me. "You know what you should do? Invite Lawton."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious," she said. "Loretta would freak. It would be so worth it."
"Yeah, but I'm not sure she'd freak in a good way, or in a bad way."
"Either way, she wouldn't be giving you shit for a change."
I had to admit, Erika had a point. I wouldn't actually do it, but the thought was enough to make me smile. "I wonder if he'd wear a shirt," I said.
Erika grinned. "Let's hope not."
Way too soon, our little party came to an end, and I was helping Erika gather up her things.
"Let me walk you out," I told her when she shrugged into her coat. I turned to Chucky. "Stay," I said in my best mock commanding tone. In his basket, Chucky snuffled and rolled over. "Good dog," I said.
Erika laughed. "Uh-oh. You've got it bad."
"What?" I asked.
"The dog," she said. "It's like you're in love or something."
"Oh please." I wasn't. Not that I'd admit it, anyway.
"Hah! What'll you do when the owners come back?"
"I dunno. Visit?" Hey, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. I could swing by at least once in a while, maybe take him for a quick walk or something. Turning away, I smiled to myself. Maybe I'd be visiting more than Chucky.
We finished gathering up her things, and my smile faded as I watched Erika shrug into her coat. "I wish I didn't work tonight."
"So play hooky," she said.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."
Sometime in the evening, the front light had gone out, probably a burned-out bulb. I made a note to replace it the next day.
When Erika's car backed down the long driveway, I stood at the curb, watching until her headlights disappeared onto the street, before I turned to go back inside.
I'd made it about halfway to the front door when I heard a sudden scuffling sound behind me. I whipped my head around, only to be tackled to the sidewalk by a big, shadowed figure in dark clothing.
My head slammed against the concrete, and an explosion of stars peppered my brain as I lay sprawled on my side, with whoever it was on top of me. Screaming, I tried to push away, using my arms, knees, and legs to try to get momentum, or do some damage to my attacker in the process.
Too soon, a gloved hand slammed over my mouth, reducing my screams to a muffled string of profanity.
"Shut up," a male voice said, flipping me onto my back, "or I'll give you something to scream about."
Chapter 51
But I didn't shut up, and I didn't stop struggling, either. My eyes were wide, and my heart racing a mile a minute when I noticed another larger shadow off to the side. They both wore ski masks with only slim openings for the eyes and mouth.
The second shadow moved closer, crouching low as if hoping for a better look. "Damn," he said, "she is fine, isn't she?"
I was gasping against the hand, getting too little air and no chance to call for help. Raw panic consumed me, and I bucked up against him jostling him just enough to give him a knee to the groin and a fist to his face.
"Fuck," he said. "That was close." His gloved hand ground harder against my face, mashing the back of my head into the concrete.
He leaned his head next to mine, and I felt the brush of the rough knit texture against my ear. "Try that again," he hissed, "and I won't be so nice." Something cool and flat pressed against my throat. A knife?
At that, I went completely still, gasping for air and trying to control my racing heart.
He lifted his hand toward the other shadow and said, "Get the car." Returning his attention to me, he said, "Time for a ride."
My mind was going a million miles a minute as my body froze in place. Was the thing at my throat really a knife, and if so, would he really use it? No matter, what, I couldn't go anywhere wit
h these two guys.
It would be suicide, or something almost as bad. Maybe now wasn't the time to make my move, but there was no way I'd be getting into any car of theirs.
For what seemed like an awful long time, we remained frozen in that position. I felt hot and cold all at the same time, with the frigid hard sidewalk pressing into my back, and the stifling mass pressing down on top of me.
I was afraid to move. And I was afraid to not move. His hand was still mashed down over my mouth, and I felt the vague coppery taste of blood in my mouth. In the quiet night, my desperate attempts to draw in air through my nose was a loud staccato, eclipsed only by the hammering of my heart.
Maybe when the other guy showed up with the car, I'd have the chance to escape. But it seemed to be taking a long time, even longer than the guy must've anticipated, because he started to fidget, a little at first, and then more as the minutes dragged on.
The only things that didn't move, though, were the knife at my throat and the hand on my mouth. Over and over, I debated biting that hand. And over and over, I rejected that idea is incredibly stupid. The gloves felt thick, and the knife wasn't wavering.
Had it cut my skin? I didn't think so. I felt pressure, but no real pain. And there was no blood. At least, I didn't think there was any blood. My exposed neck felt cold. And blood is warm, right?
The time ticked on as a car drove by, and then another. Neither one stopped.
"What the fuck is taking so long?" the guy muttered, more to himself than to me.
My gaze was darting wildly around, from his slitted eyes to the darkened yard. Had they broken the light? Or maybe they hadn't needed to. It's not like I'd checked to make sure it still had a bulb. Shit, did it even matter? Whether by accident or design, the front yard was darker than I'd ever seen it.
From the street, we'd be practically invisible. In fact, we'd probably be invisible from ten feet away. A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of my face, making me long to wipe it away. But I couldn’t wipe it away. I couldn’t do anything. Not yet.
After who knows how long, headlights appeared at the end of the driveway. They grew brighter and brighter, until in my peripheral vision, I saw a dark sedan ease into the driveway and stop just a few feet from where we lay on the walkway.
My breathing was nearly out of control, and I felt like I was drowning in adrenalin and raw panic. No matter what, I couldn't let them take me into that vehicle.
Chapter 52
I realized I was trembling. The driver's side door opened, and the other guy got out, the ski mask still in place. He stood in the driveway looking over at us like he had all the time in the world.
The guy on top of me called out to him. "C'mon, move it, will ya?"
Holding something that looked like a tire iron, the guy held up a hand as if signaling for a brief delay. He then crouched down to inspect the front tire on the driver's side.
"Fuck the tire," the guy on top of me said. "C'mon! Jesus."
Ignoring his partner, the guy circled around to the passenger's side. He leaned over to inspect the other front tire. With a muttered curse, the guy above me sat up, his hand still pressed to my mouth, but the knife blissfully gone from my neck. I gasped for air as he craned his neck to see what the other guy was doing.
This was my chance. It might be my only one. Slowly, I made a fist with my right hand. I braced myself. Then, without warning, the guy flew off of me, almost like he'd been jerked on a string. Free from his mass, I bolted upright, gasping for air.
What I saw in front of me made me gasp for a different reason. I didn't scream for help, because almost by divine intervention, it had already arrived. I saw Lawton, his face a study in cold fury, pounding the masked guy with his right fist while he held his neck with his left.
He hadn't even bothered to remove the guy's mask. The guy, whoever he was, was bucking wildly, clutching at his throat with both hands and twisting from side to side as if trying to worm away from the attack.
Almost too late, I noticed the second masked man striding toward us. The tire iron was nowhere in sight, but his destination was obvious. I jumped to my feet, hollering out, "Lawton! Behind you!"
Lawton whipped his head around to spot the guy behind him, but he did nothing to change position or defend himself from the coming attack. Instead, he turned back around toward the guy on the ground and delivered a vicious series of punches that had him flopping around like a rag doll.
Before I knew it, the second guy had a forearm around Lawton's neck. He yanked him backward, pulling him off the first guy, who, I vaguely realized, was no longer moving. Finally, Lawton acted. He broke free of the second guy's grasp, then barreled hard into him, sending them both rolling across the grass.
I looked wildly around and spotted the knife lying just inches from my feet. I scooped it up and charged, screaming all the pent-up rage and helplessness I'd felt just a few minutes earlier. With a final shriek, I leapt forward, knife raised, frantically looking for the best place to strike at the masked assailant.
His neck. His leg. Wherever. The guy was a big target. Maybe if I just started slashing, I'd hit something. When he bolted to his feet, dragging Lawton with him, I finally saw my chance.
With a guttural cry I struck out, aiming for the guy's forearm. What I got was nothing because with lightning reflexes, a gloved hand closed around my wrist and squeezed hard. The knife fell to the grass with barely a noise.
"Let go of her!" Lawton yelled, his face flushed and his eyes blazing as he faced off against the second assailant.
"For fuck's sake," the guy muttered, releasing my wrist and taking a couple of steps backward, his hands raised.
Lawton rushed to my side. "You okay?" he asked, frantically searching my face and body for clues to my condition.
Nodding, I glanced toward the second assailant.
Lawton turned to the guy. "Take off the mask, will ya? Can't you see you're scaring her?
With a muttered curse, the guy pulled off the ski mask and tossed it to the ground. "I'd have taken it off sooner if she hadn't gone all Norman Bates on me." It was Bishop, Lawton's brother. His short hair was in a spiky disarray as he continued to eye me with undisguised annoyance.
"Norman Bates?" I glared at him. "As in psycho?"
He shrugged. "If the knife fits…"
My hands were shaking, and my head was swimming. There was too much to take in. The guy on the ground was still as death. Bishop was eyeing him with only mild interest. Next to me, Lawton was gripping my hand so tight, it felt like my bones might shatter.
I yanked my hand away, and whirled around to face Bishop. "Why'd you guys attack me? Is this your idea of a joke?"
Lawton turned to Bishop. "What?"
Bishop turned his gaze heavenward. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
I glared at him. "You already said that."
Bishop looked toward Lawton. "She thinks I’m the other guy."
"What other guy?" I demanded.
Shrugging, Bishop gave a quick glance to the car in the driveway. "The guy in the trunk. Let's just say we intercepted him."
I looked toward the vehicle. My voice shook. "He's not, uh – ?"
"Dead?" Bishop said. "No." He turned his attention to the guy on the lawn. "And we better hope that one's not dead, either."
Lawton's jaw tightened. "Speak for yourself. I don't give a shit if he's dead."
"Obviously," Bishop said. "You search him yet?"
Lawton shook his head and made a move toward the guy.
"Hang on," Bishop said. "I'll do it."
"Why you?" I asked.
"Because given half a chance, Romeo here –" Bishop flicked his chin toward Lawton, "– would probably finish him off. Then we'd have real trouble on our hands."
I took in my surroundings, starting with the strange car with a body, hopefully alive, in the trunk, to the ski mask on the lawn, to the unconscious guy lying a few feet away. If this wasn't real trouble, I didn't know what was. I started to sh
ake. Not just my hands, but my whole body.
Lawton, very gently this time, took my hand. "Come here," he said. "It's gonna be alright." He put an arm around me and nestled me close.
I gave a shrill bark of laughter. "Alright? Seriously? This is so not alright."
Bishop was pulling the ski mask from the guy's face. I squinted into the darkness and was slowly able to make out some of his features. I sucked in a breath. I couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but I thought I knew him.
Chapter 53
Lawton turned to face me. "Wasn't this the guy from yesterday? At the club?"
His blood-spattered face looked a lot different than the last time I'd seen it. But it sure looked like the Brittney's date, or friend, or whatever.
I nodded. "I think so."
I touched my throat. I could almost still feel the knife, but I felt no cut, no blood, no anything, except remnants of my own fear.
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I heard a muffled sound. It might've been a sob. Or it might've been a whimper.
Slowly, I became aware that the noise had come from me, and that Lawton's strong arms encircled me tighter now, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth and security as I completely fell apart.
He murmured comforting sounds into my hair, but now that I'd started, I couldn’t seem to stop. We stood like that for what seemed like a long time.
From someplace that seemed oddly far away, Lawton was saying something that seemed to require an answer.
With a final sniffle, I pulled back to look at him. "Sorry," I mumbled. "What'd you say?"
"I'm taking you inside."
I glanced toward the car. "But what about the other guy?"
I didn't need to look inside the trunk to have a pretty good idea who it was. I'd have bet almost anything it was the second guy who'd been with Brittney and Amber that night.
"He's not going anywhere," Lawton said.
"Neither is this one," Bishop said, walking past, carrying the other guy over his shoulder, fireman style.
"Oh my God," I stammered. "You sure he's not – ?"
"He'll be fine," Bishop said. He kept moving, heading toward the car.
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