by Jill Cooper
I can’t see, but neither can she.
I can only hear her breathing.
My heart pounds and my breath shakes with each passing moment. I pull myself backwards on the ground and try to remain quiet as a church mouse. If she finds me, I might not be able to escape again. I might end up dead, and I won’t even know why.
What does she want? Is Cameron Kincaid really holding her leash?
Had I outsmarted her? Had she lost me? I sit still, my breathing returning to normal, and that’s when I hear her. She’s right behind me.
“Lara!” A scream. A warning coming from my dad, but I’ve no time to answer him.
I crawl fast, feeling the ground as I go. When I bang into the chair, I feel his beefy calf tightly secured to its metal leg. I had to get him out of here, but how? I doubt I can get myself out of here.
“Dad!” My heart races with fear. I’m a little girl again, in a run-down apartment building after a nightmare, waiting for my dad to come check on me. For a second that image flashes before me as if I’m really there.
I think I am. His hand is stroking through my hair and his lips kiss my wet cheeks. “It’s okay, Lara. It’s okay.”
The intense emotion triggered a quick bout of time travel, but I can’t hold onto it. The present yanks me back as if I’m chew toy. Back in the warehouse, the room lights up behind me as if it’s daylight. When I whip my head around, time slows down as the assailant tries to press her electrical baton into my brain port.
An act like that would surely kill me.
In advance, I can see the trail of where her actions will lead. I anticipate her next move. My hand clenches into a fist and I slam it into her gut. She groans and her body folds as she flies backward toward the wall. In a flash of color—silver and blue—she’s gone in a hazy cloud, but I can see the streak.
She’s running through time, planning to escape by teleporting behind me.
I whip around and catch both of her arms overhead. Raising my legs up high, I kick her straight in the gut. As she attempts to bash me with her electrical stick, I disappear. Through a lightning storm, I reemerge behind her and kick her in the back.
With a grunt, she falls to the floor, as does one of the electrical sticks. I snatch it up and test the weight of it in my hand as the assassin picks herself up. She limps with pain and we’re at it again. Meeting her blow for blow, caught in an electrical storm behind us, in front of us, and between us.
We’re both traveling in time. We’re anticipating each other’s moves. She’s good. Real good. And I’m exuberant. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I never want to let it go.
“Lara!” My dad’s voice pulls me back to the present.
The visions of all I’ve seen in the electrical storm fade and I stand behind him. I lift a hand and time slows down. I can see where the assassin will appear. I side step to greet her and extend my hand just as she reappears to grip her throat.
“Game’s over.” I rip the helmet off from her and her facial expression is frozen. Her blue eyes swirl at me and her soft blond hair falls straight, to her jaw.
I know her face. I’m taken aback by who she is.
Cassidy Winters. No, it can’t be. My great grandniece from the future? It’s impossible. She was a nice person. She was—.
She sneers at me and the corner of her lip curls. “Game’s only started.” Cassidy disappears again and I’m caught off my game. I spin around, but it’s too late.
She presses her electrical baton against my port. The jolt of electricity cuts off any rational thought in my brain. I see other images I haven’t seen in a while. An old bedroom. A tomboy’s reflection in the mirror.
I smell smoke and realize it’s coming from me. Timelines I thought were closed, flash in front of my face and only the calls from my dad cement me to the correct timeline. I groan and wipe the saliva from the corner of my mouth. I should be dead, but instead, I’m seeing things I shouldn’t. Things that can no longer be real.
Cassidy is gone, but my dad is there. I kneel next to the chair as I rush to untie him. “Dad?”
“Lara, God…” He might want to say more, but he doesn’t. We fall into each other’s arms and he grips me tightly. I’m glad for it because I’m a little girl again, trembling on the inside.
My greatest nightmare is about to unfold.
Chapter Twelve
Cassidy Winters is in the past and trying to kill me.
In the future, Cassidy is a smart and resourceful police officer. She is cunning, and we worked together to save the day—save the future. So, what happened to her? Had what I’d done in the process of saving the future, destroyed her?
She’d have no memory of everything we did, only I carried that memory. If she couldn’t remember, why come back in the past to kill me? Why would she hate me that much?
“Lara,” Dad pushes me away to gaze in my face. “I’m sorry, if I knew she was only out to hurt you...”
“You know her?” My face twists as I ask the question.
He nods. “We’ve been out a few times. Nothing serious, but when she struck me from behind and I woke up here,” Dad sighs, “I knew she was using me to get to you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and hurt rolls over his face. The guilt of it all.
I’m the one who should feel badly. I grip his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known.” I couldn’t tell Dad that Cassidy is related to us. I sure hope they didn’t kiss. Or do anything else.
She’s strong and intelligent; if she’s trying to goad me or outsmart me, well she’s doing a bang-up job. I need to find out what she wants and how to stop her.
With any luck, I can now use time travel to help me.
“We better get out of here before she comes back.”
I don’t tell Dad there’s nowhere we can go that she can’t find us. Instead, when he offers me his hand to help me up, I take it. I feel as if I should be helping him, but instead, he’s helping me. If Cassidy is intent on hurting my dad to get to me, I have a problem.
A big problem.
How can I save either of them if Cassidy is intent on killing me? And I need to save her as much as I need to save him.
****
I take my dad home and I can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dad paces in the living room as I put the teakettle on in the kitchen. Taking out two mugs, I try to do away with my own thoughts and feelings. I try not to focus on what happened at the warehouse, but what lies in front of me.
As I open the box of tea bags, a burst of pain hits my forehead—as if I’ve been stabbed. I grunt and pinch my nose together. An image assaults me. I’m standing in the lobby of an office building. There are glass windows and the tile floors shine so brightly, they’re like mirrors.
“You can’t do this, Cass. We’re supposed to be family.” I say it as if I don’t have any say in the matter. I’m playing a part.
She walks towards me. Her silver suit is the same, but her boots are tall and black. She holds the electrical sticks tight to her body, but her appearance is different. Her hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it; down to the middle of her back. “You’ve ruined everything. Cameron showed me. Cameron—.”
“Is a liar!” My jaw grinds together as I side step, to keep myself at arm’s distance. “He wants to ruin me. Ruin our line. Cameron’s out for revenge, plain and simple. He won’t stop at just hurting me. He has to hurt all of us and that includes you.”
Cassidy’s eyes flash with anger. “No! He saved me. He saved—without him, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“That is something we can at least agree on.”
The pain recedes and slowly I pull myself back into the present. It’s as if I’d sped down a dark tunnel, seeing nothing but a pinprick of light in the distance. My breathing is erratic and my sense of touch seems lost. I can’t feel the box of tea bags in my hand, and it’s as if I’m not inside my body. I gulp, able to hear my heartbeat as splotches of blood fall from my nose and onto the countertop.
Drip. Drop. Drip.
My phone rings the counter, but the sound is muffled as if it’s under water. I’m barely in control of my actions as I pick it up and place it to my ear. “Hello?” It sounds as if it is someone else’s voice.
“You all right? Did you find your father?”
It’s Marcus. My eyes close and I breathe out nice and slow. My heartbeat is returning to normal and the pounding of the drum in my head ebbs. “Yeah, my dad’s okay. Just…was a miscommunication.”
I hate lying to Marcus, but he can’t know, not yet. It might put him in danger too. “Well, good. Since nothing’s amiss, Cameron is hosting a press conference this evening.”
“What?” My eyebrow furrows together. A press conference? Already? Well, he certainly was wasting no time.
“He sprung it on me as well. I don’t like it. He hasn’t requested you be there personally, but…” Marcus’s voice drops, “I need you there. We have no idea what it is he’s going to say. It’ll be important for the press and public to see you. I don’t want them to forget why the TTPA was formed in the first place.”
A press conference? A party? I’m in no shape for either. “Marcus—.”
“Don’t let this dream go up in smoke. It was yours. Delilah’s. We still need you. Tell me you’re still in.”
His voice is as determined as it has ever been and it arouses the same in me. I take a deep breath. “I’m in. Just tell me the time and I’ll be there.”
“Six o’clock. Tapas at seven. If you don’t want to arrive alone…”
“No,” I squint my eyes to fend off a swell of pain. “No, I can scrounge up my own date. Thanks, Marcus.” If Cameron thinks he’s the only one who can play games, he has another thing coming.
****
Dad’s tea goes untouched and he rubs his hands on his thighs. “You’re sure it’s safe for you to go tonight?”
“I’ll be fine.” Over the years, I’ve had a lot of practice at lying and it serves me well. Dad doesn’t even bat an eye. I hate lying to him, but tonight especially, I don’t have any other choice. “It’s just work. There will be plenty of security guards around.”
“Like the ones around Delilah?” Dad sighs as he says it and rubs his jaw. “Sorry, that was low of me. Just—sorry. I worry.”
I knew. God, how I knew. I lean in and give him a squeeze. When he hugs me, I fall against his chest and relish his big papa bear hug. Once, I thought there was nothing a hug from him couldn’t fix. Going back to those days would be easy, or would be if my time travel skills were working again.
“In the warehouse,” Dad studies his mug as he spins it on the table. It doesn’t take a lot to see the worry on his face, “I saw what she did. How she disappeared and reappeared. I saw you too, matching her moves.”
Taking a deep breath, I hold it. I wait for him to finish.
He gazes up at me and the shine in his big brown eyes reflect he is troubled. “Everything around you lit up, and it bubbled. Time distorted or something. One second you were there and the next second, it’s like you just weren’t. I tried to move, but it was like moving through sludge…” Dad took a long sip of his tea. “You slowed time down around you, so you could be faster. I thought you said you couldn’t do that anymore.”
“I thought so too.” I admit it quietly, not just to him, but to myself. “But when she shocked me…when I thought she might hurt you…” I blink slowly and my mind churns away. “I think they killed Delilah to get a reaction out of me. To get me to try to travel in time and when that didn’t work…”
“Why?” Dad’s brow furrows. “Wouldn’t that make you more dangerous? To awaken everything you’ve tried so hard to forget?”
“I don’t know what they want or why.” I chew on the inside of my lip. “Don’t tell Mom, okay? Jax. Molly. Anyone. We need to keep this between us or they might be in danger too.”
Dad grips my hand. “I know how to keep a secret. It stays between us, but be careful, Lara. I waited years to get out of that prison cell. I’m not ready to lose you.”
Briefly, I smile. When the doorbell rings, I stand up with dread. Dad squeezes my fingers and peers up at me. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?”
I nod. Truth of the matter is, I don’t have a choice.
When I pull the door open, Donovan stands on the other side. In his best suit, he looks dapper, but the lines on his face are severely drawn. His eyes hold a bit of hope mingled with sadness as he holds a garment bag out to me.
“I hope this will do.”
Unzipping it, I gaze upon one of my favorite dresses. A form fitting purple dress, that really sets off my eyes.
“It’ll do.”
Chapter Thirteen
We ride in the back of the limo in silence, the breadth of the ocean between us, once again. Sitting with my legs crossed in my favorite dress, I’m transfixed on the sky. The twinkling lights from the skyscrapers after dark mesmerize me. Gives me something to gawk at so my mind can just be blank. Be somewhere else.
“I was relieved when you called,” Donovan says finally breaking the silence.
A simple sentence. A simple admission, not one that heals, but still I smile. We were supposed to be married in six days. Six short days and now I’m not sure if we’ll even make it. If I’ll make it there, not with Cameron and Cassidy gunning for me.
“I wanted to call this morning. Even last night.” I shrug because it’s better than crying.
“Why didn’t you?” Donovan’s eyes tick back and forth, unsure if he should look at me. I’m not sure either.
“I wasn’t sure what to say.” The truth of my words hits like a ton of bricks.
“Then I’ll start. I’m sorry. Sorry for all of it.”
Sorry that he did so many things wrong? Or sorry I caught him? I wish we had time to hash it all out, but the truth of the matter is, we don’t. Soon we’ll arrive at the function hall and all of this has to be put on hold.
“It hurts me, Don. Hurts me that you think I need all this to be happy. I don’t. I’d just take you as you are.”
“Even if it meant living in a box?”
“We wouldn’t be living in a box, but yes. Even if it meant living in a rundown apartment. Cutting coupons. Eating canned beans. I’d do it.” I’d done it before, but Don never had. So maybe, it has less to do with me and more to do with him.
His eyes widen and then his face crumples. I’m taken aback by how my words surprise him and how, on some level, he doesn’t believe me. Maybe Mr. Confident isn’t as confident as I give him credit for. I feel bad for him. Part of me wants to slap him, while the other part wants to take care of him, prove that he can be enough on his own.
The cars, fancy home, and clothes, even the yacht are just window dressing. That stuff can’t make us the power couple I thought we were. Money can’t make you laugh at night or make you pancakes in the morning. But for someone whose whole life was about money and the lies Patricia James told, maybe a future wasn’t possible if it meant being poor.
Maybe if we were poor, he couldn’t love me. Couldn’t love himself.
My heart sinks like a stone at my suspicions and I stare at my lap. The talk started on the right foot and now we’re further apart than ever.
The limo pulls over to the curb and I sit up straighter, gazing past Donovan to the city street. There are cars parked along the sidewalk and people dressed in fancy suits lingering in front of the TTPA’s front door. They must be the press, waiting to get inside.
I let out a shaky breath and realize that Donovan is studying me. “Want to tell me what’s making you so nervous?”
“Cameron Kincaid.”
“If anything, he should make me nervous. You’re not the one who made a fool’s bargain.”
No, I didn’t, but I was the reason he targeted Donovan in the first place. I want to tell him that, so he can let go some of his guilt. Reaching for his hand, I pause. “Let’s just act natural tonight, okay? I know my future’s with y
ou, Don. We just need to get past this. I’m pretty sure we can.”
He offers me a small smile. “You telling me that because you want to or because you want us to get through this night?”
My face falls and a flash of pain enters my chest. I’m sorry he feels the need to ask. I’m sorry he just doesn’t know how much I care for him. The lies, the games, all of it, have been behind us for so long, but still, my past behavior casts a shadow upon us that I can’t shake. Forever its backdrop will shadow us, but what choice do I have?
It’s that or simply walk away.
The limo driver pulls the door open. Once Donovan gets out, he offers me his hand, ever the gentlemen. Standing beside him feels right, but I’m not sure how to express myself as he leads me into the TTPA. Cameras flash at my arrival and I offer them a tepid gaze.
“Ms. Montgomery, you look stunning as ever. Always on time. Am I right?” The giggling journalist, with teeth so white they shine, shoves a microphone in my face.
Time travel jokes never get old.
I brush it off with a laugh. “Always.”
Donovan offers his apologies as we push our way into the TTPA. The way he does it is soft, but stern. I cling to his arm as we spin out the revolving door into the lobby. Tables wear white table clothes, and against the back wall is a podium, where Cameron will take his place. People converge and we push our way to the front.
For a moment, we pause, and I cross my wrists in front of me, gazing straight ahead. Donovan’s hand on my neck is a welcome break from the stress of life. I relax and allow my eyes to close as he massages my skin—rolling it between his fingers. Without even thinking about it, I lean into him and enjoy the warmth of his lips pressed against my forehead.
There’s something magical about the way we come together. Even with the current emotional distance between us, our attachment and love manage to connect us.
“Let’s really talk, once this is over, okay?” Donovan whispers against my hair and I’m inclined to say yes on the spot. I’m inclined to wave my hand and just forget anything negative between us ever happened at all.
