by Lara Swann
She exclaims at the rough movement, clutching onto me and staring up wide-eyed. “Caleb, put me down, I can run too - it can’t be faster for you to carry me—”
I ignore her. It is faster, adrenaline surging through me and my limbs moving faster than they ever have, on fire with need. After a couple of minutes she seems to realize it too.
“Fuck, you’re fit. When the hell did you get this fit?” Her commentary would amuse me if I wasn’t so preoccupied with what I’m doing.
There are people swarming everywhere now - chaos and confusion, murmured discussions, staff running around, a couple of people yelling and trying to create order. I run further, ignoring them all, and after a few minutes the crowds of students shift into the usual groups, laughing and talking - looking up in confusion as we pass, and only slowly becoming aware of the disturbance we’re leaving.
I always find the ripple of news and shock and action through the surrounding people fascinating, but not this time. This time all I can see is shadows and danger and hidden killers. I try not to stay out in the open too much, but speed is more important - most likely, whoever is after Alana is behind us. And possibly firing into the wrong group of people.
“Caleb - where are we going?” Alana continues, endless questions that I barely process.
She finds out the answer when we reach the parking lot and I finally set her down beside a large SUV. Dark windows, heavily armored - not that anyone else would know that - and monstrous looking.
I unlock it with a press of the key, and unlike similar cars, its lights don’t flash in welcome.
“Get in.” I say hurriedly, still looking behind me.
Alana gives me an unsure look, but finally obliges, slipping into the passenger seat.
If I was doing this properly, I’d have opened the back and put her in there myself - lockable, safe, secure.
But I can’t do that. Not anymore.
I jump into the driver’s side and start the engine, speeding out of the lot before she’s had a chance to grab for her belt. I’ve ignored mine.
“Caleb!” Alana yells, staring at me in disbelief.
Even with that, something in me relaxes, just a little. A glance in the rearview mirror has the college starting to disappear behind us, and I breathe deeply.
It happened. He came. And now we’re getting away…safe enough in this thing that I actually think I might have done it.
Kept her safe.
“Caleb!” Alana shouts again, and my attention flicks onto her momentarily. “What the hell is going on?!”
My body is still pumping adrenaline while my mind calculates threats and rushes ahead to our back-up plan. I was meant to spot the hitman - take him out before he could make a move on Alana, then just disappear and leave the college to make whatever they could of it all.
She’d never see me again, never know she was the target or what had really happened.
But if that didn’t work…my next priority was to get her out. Keep her safe. Until he could be found and dealt with, and Alana was safe again. It would compromise a lot, but it would keep her alive.
The car tears down the road and I start breathing easier as I put more distance between us.
“Caleb, where the fuck are we going?” Alana asks again, looking more than a little spooked now.
“Somewhere safe. We’re just getting you somewhere safe, then I’ll explain, okay?” I say, hoping that she’ll leave it at that.
It really isn’t a conversation I can have like this. I need to make sure she’s safe - secure - before she has to deal with all of this. I can’t have her freaking out as I drive down these streets.
“Explain what? What is going on?!” I can hear her getting aggravated, and I reach over to squeeze her leg, running my hand down it and meeting her eyes for a moment.
It’s been fucking ages since I’ve felt her, and despite everything my cock twitches at just that brief touch. God, I’ve missed her.
Well, that’s over now. Forget it. She’s going to want you fucking dead - and her father is probably going to oblige.
“Everything I was about to tell you.” I say softly. It’s the truth - one of the few things that is. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Just let me get you somewhere safe first.”
She looks at me, then around at the streets we’re passing and the interior of the large car. I can see her hesitate, more questions on the edge of her tongue, and I squeeze her leg again.
“Do you trust me, Alana?” I ask.
It’s a fucking shit card to play. Because she’s about to find out just how thoroughly I’ve betrayed every kind of trust she might have placed in me. But I do it anyway - because just this once, it will work.
And the only thing left to me is making sure she gets out of this alive.
She takes another deep breath, holds my gaze, and slowly nods.
“Yes, I trust you, Caleb.” Her hand comes to rest on mine, squeezing my fingers between hers.
I take a shuddering breath and nod, letting my hand slip away and turning my attention back to the road as she settles back into her seat, seeming to calm a little.
You’re a fucking bastard, Caleb. A fucked up asshole.
“Like that film, huh?” Alana’s voice comes a few minutes later, deliberately lighter as she tries to smile at me. “’Come with me if you want to live.’ Guess the answer is yeah, I’d do that.”
Something hysterical tries to bubble up inside me, but I clamp down on it, closing my eyes for the two seconds my attention can lapse on the highway.
Then I give her a hollow smile back, feeling like everything within me is splintering into pieces.
“You’re so fucking special, Alana. You really are.” My voice is low and raspy, but I think she hears it anyway.
It’s the last chance I have to say anything like that and have her believe it, and I’ve never told her, so…I do.
And then I turn back to the road and spend the rest of the drive coming to terms with everything I’m about to lose.
My position in the mob. My father’s respect. Probably my life.
But most of all…Alana. Her trust and affection.
I should have told her earlier.
But I didn’t. And this is one set of consequences I can’t avoid.
Chapter Seventeen
Alana
By the time we pull up in a quiet residential area that I don’t recognize, I’m feeling distinctly uneasy.
And not just about what happened on campus or our mad rush to get away from it.
I keep shooting glances at Caleb, but he refuses to meet my eyes, and after refusing to tell me anything spent the entire journey in silence.
When he asked me to trust him, I was surprised to find that I did - that it wasn’t so hard to just say ‘yes’ and wait. But now…it’s getting harder.
It doesn’t help that he seems to have closed off from me again - his face and eyes distant and detached, with no trace of his usual cocky humor. I’m getting more uncomfortable, and I actually breathe a sigh of relief when we leave the car and he unlocks the mid-sized detached property in front of us.
I follow him in, shooting a glance around at the other houses around, none illuminated in the evening twilight.
Does anyone even live around here?
I barely make it inside before I’m asking, “Where are we?”
I’m just impressed I kept the questions back for this long.
“Somewhere safe.” He walks through the place as if he knows it, opening a door that leads to a moderate sitting room - comfortable couches and a large TV mounted on the wall.
“I thought you were going to answer my questions.” I say. I don’t want to be too accusatory about it, but I’ve reached my limit.
Caleb nods. “I will.”
He gestures to one of the couches, but I’m not sure I want to sit down and relax.
“Just tell me.” I say instead.
“There’s…quite a lot to explain.” He shrugs, s
till not really meeting my eyes.
I fold my arms and stare him down. I’m done with this routine. “So shoot. You’ve got me here all alone, I’m listening.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but nods again, remaining standing with me. Then he finally meets my eyes - but nothing I see there makes me feel better. The warmth and familiarity are gone, and instead he looks almost like a stranger - expression blank and neutral.
“I’m not a college student, Alana.” Caleb finally says, “I’m…part of the Irish mob, and we’ve been receiving threats on your life since college started again. What we heard on campus, the gun - the man on the other end of it…he was looking for you.”
I just stare at him, squinting a little.
What the hell is this?
“But you’re safe now - we can stay here until he’s found, and then you’ll be…fine.” His words slow down and I can tell he’s waiting for a reaction, but…I just don’t get it.
“What?” I finally ask, looking around the room dubiously. “Caleb, if this is your idea of some stupid prank, it’s really fucking messed up. And it was never even going to work on me - I mean, c’mon…”
“It’s not a prank, Alana.” His deep, serious tone finally makes me look up at him again, but I still shake my head.
“You expect me to believe someone wants to kill me? Me? I mean, the most I ever did was piss Bryan off, and even then, you did worse to him—”
“It’s not you.” He takes another breath, and it’s obvious he’s finding this difficult, even if I’m starting to feel a little delirious. “It’s to get at your father.”
“My father?” This prank is getting worse and worse.
“He runs the Irish mob in Baltimore, Alana. He’s the one getting the threats on your life. That’s why I ended up at your college, looking out for you - until he could find the guy.” Caleb actually manages to say all that with a straight face, but I swear I’m about to start laughing.
Or break out in hives.
I try for a moment to picture my father - the straight-laced accountant who buys me milkshakes and listens with attentive incomprehension as I talk about my science stuff - as a mob boss. And fail completely.
But that tingle of unease is creeping back up my spine - and as I notice the intent way Caleb is regarding me, it gets worse.
What the fuck do I really know about this guy?
And I wonder whether maybe he believes this whacked out story. Fuck, I know nothing about him, and he’s certainly…different enough. He could be fucking delusional. Or…anything else.
Have I really just let him take me to some empty house in the middle of who-knows-where?
“Umm yeah, okay Caleb.” I start, trying to ignore the slight edge of panic.
I meant it when I said I trusted him earlier. But…the guy that I trusted seems to have all but disappeared. Replaced by this expressionless, distant man.
“Alana?” He asks, watching me carefully.
I swallow. “Look, can you just take me back to campus please? I really think…I think I need to be getting back there now.”
He frowns, “Did you hear anything I just said? Are you okay?”
What the fuck? Am I okay? No I’m not fucking okay - I’m alone…in an empty house…with a guy who might be a psycho.
“Yeah, fine. Look, this was all very…interesting, and all. But I’m done. I don’t care whether this is your idea of a fucked up joke, or what, but I want to go back.” I start to back up a little. “If you didn’t want me to ask you any more questions, you could’ve just fucking told me - you didn’t need to…take me here, and…completely freak me out—”
“I’m not trying to freak you out.” I swear I can see the strain on his face, before he finally lets out a long breath, “God damn it, you really don’t believe me?”
He asks it as if this would all be perfectly reasonable to believe. At least there’s a hint of the man I thought I knew there, which reassures me just enough to respond.
“Yeah. No, I don’t.” I say, “I know my father. A hell of a lot better than I know you, and—”
He grabs the remote halfway through my sentence, and flicks the TV on before I can finish it.
“…news, there has been a shooting at the University of North Carolina this afternoon…casualties are unconfirmed, and the suspect has not been apprehended…heavy police presence…”
I stagger a little as I watch the aerial shots of the campus I was at only an hour earlier - covered with police tape, groups of white-faced students and professors, reporters and cameras and flashing lights.
Oh my fucking god. What the hell happened?
I stare at the screen for a long moment, barely taking in the commentary before glancing between that and Caleb’s emotionless face.
“What…what happened?” I finally ask, knowing my eyes are wide and I’m breathing heavily. “Oh fuck, Mel and Lily! They were at that display, or meant to be…”
I pull out my phone, belatedly remembering Mel’s repeated calls, and my blood chills as I start to dial her number.
Only to have the phone pulled out of my hand. “No, that’s not safe, Alana. You can’t call anyone.”
I stare at him. “What the fuck?! Give that back - Mel called me a dozen times, something could’ve happened to them!”
I try to grab it from him, but he evades me easily as he responds with an unnatural calm. “If she’s calling you, then she’s probably fine.”
“You don’t know that - and Lily and Tom, too. Fuck it, don’t you care at all?” I glare at him, and after a moment something finally cracks, because he starts pressing buttons.
Then my voicemail comes up, followed almost immediately by Mel’s voice.
‘Alana - where the hell are you? We went to look for you when you didn’t show up, so we weren’t there when…it…fuck, when it happened. But there’s people everywhere and we can’t get back - please fucking tell me you’re not there. That you’re okay. We’re off campus now, in Bob’s Diner. Why the fuck aren’t you picking up your—’
Caleb clicks it off. “They’re fine.”
“You call mass hysteria fine?” I ask scathingly. “I need to call her, let them know I’m okay—”
“You can’t. Not right now. Let things settle first - they’ll forgive you if it keeps you alive.” He says, and I feel like raging at him.
“Fuck it, Caleb. What the hell makes you think this is about me anyway? Sure, there was a shooting, but you’re not going to convince me it was because of my father—”
“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that, right?” He mutters, and I’m about to continue my rant when he slips my phone away and pulls his out.
“Here, we’ve been receiving these letters for a while - this is the most recent.” He shows me his phone, and I freeze.
It’s an image of a letter - with a photo of Dad and I, and big bold letters saying ‘Too late to tell her all your secrets now, Patrick’.
I stare at it, but my eyes blur almost instantly, unfocused and disbelieving.
“What. The. Hell.” I practically expel each word on a breath of air.
He pulls the phone back, and the motion startles me enough to look up at him.
And for the first time, I consider - actually consider - that he might be telling the truth. That this might be real.
I stare at him, and the weird delirious feeling I had earlier starts to give way to something much worse - real horror.
I take a step back, looking at the man whose shared my bed - and so much more - over the last month. Images of our passion, the casual fun and simple pleasures flickering through my mind, with a now-constant echo. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
It can’t be true. It really can’t. Not even in the wildest explanations I created for Caleb’s strange behavior did this occur to me. Not the mob - or my father.
“Who are you?” I whisper at last, eyes locked on him.
A sad smile ghosts across his face, a
nd then it’s gone and his expression is neutral again. “That’s more of the reaction I was expecting.”
“Damn it, answer me!” I yell. I can’t help it - everything is flashing through my mind at an alarming pace, and I feel like I’m about to go insane.
“Who I said, Alana. I’m part of the Irish mob - a hitman for your father.” His mouth quirks upwards, “Or, in this case, hitman-turned-bodyguard. A fucking terrible idea, but at least I managed to get you out of there.”
Hitman. Bodyguard. What the actual fuck.
I think about my father, about the idea of him mixed up in this craziness, and it doesn’t make sense.
But I can’t stop replaying that brief moment I tried to introduce Caleb to my father…my father’s edginess the whole time he was with me…Caleb’s scars, his attitude, his near panic attacks at the party and the theater…
Everything I thought I knew about him. The time we had together. The way I’d started to feel…all lies. All fucked up, twisted lies.
Then something else occurs to me, and I have to fight the knot of anger and revulsion in my stomach.
My fists clench and my eyes go wide as I stare at him. “All that time together…everything we did…you’re telling me my father sent you for that? To…to fuck me and…and…”
I don’t even want to repeat the other stuff. The parts that were more than just fucking and physical release.
To my immense satisfaction, he winces, “No! Fuck, of course not. That was…”
“All your own idea, huh?” My anger is getting the better of me now, I’m practically spitting the words out. “Thought it would be a good way to get close to me - to follow whatever fucked up orders you were given?!”
Something flashes across his face, and I can tell I’ve hit the nail on the head. I’m just not expecting the sudden wave of hurt that overwhelms me at the truth of it. That’s what he was doing.
Fucking stupid girl. Never should’ve gone near him. Knew it from the start.
“It wasn’t like that!” Caleb protests, a spark of emotion finally penetrating that distant gaze. “I mean—”
“Fuck it. I don’t want to hear it, you fucking asshole.” I spit out. “I’m getting out of here. Away from—all of this.”
