“Now you’re being unkind to pigs.”
He laughed, and his hold on my hand pinched. I felt like a bonbon about to be consumed. His practiced look of hunger would appeal to many women. It didn’t to me.
He pulled me closer, so my nose pressed against his lapel and moved both hands down to encompass my waist. I lay my arms across broad shoulders bunched with muscles.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
“Ivor.”
“Clea.”
He squeezed. I felt trapped, and tamped down the feeling. “So tell me about yourself,” I said.
“I like you.”
A non-answer. I leaned my head back, so it strained my neck. I wanted to see his eyes. They were warm, inviting.
He playfully tugged one of my curls. “Maybe you’re not too skinny.”
“For what, Ivor?” My words dripped molasses.
We danced near one of the large hall’s side exits. He was steering me somewhere, his vibe ugly and hungry.
Yeah, not gonna play that game.
I surfaced from his shoulder and came to a dead stop. He overbalanced, then corrected.
I drew away, except he didn’t loosen his hold.
“What, pretty girl?” He kissed my bare shoulder. “You taste sweet.”
Larrimer better not come to the rescue. I laughed. “C’mon? You’re going with that one?” I moved to step away again. His fingers contracted. Pain shot through my waist. Nasty bastard. I wasn’t afraid, just pissed.
I could easily kick his legs out from under him, but I wanted to see what he’d do next. “Are you about to waltz me outdoors?”
“I thought you could join our little party.”
“I’m not much of a party girl.” I tittered.
Again with the snarky grin. “I bet you know how to play.”
Still smiling, I shook my head. “Oh, I never play.”
His muscles relaxed, and the pain in my waist became an ache. Obviously, he failed to get the point of my banter.
“You’d play with me.” His jaw hardened.
Damn me, I wanted to laugh. Compared to Larrimer, he felt like a minor leaguer, albeit a nasty one. “Would I?” I flowed my hands forward to his waist, as if to hold him, then down and inside his front pant pockets, seemingly hungry for him. I touched what felt like a card, palmed it, and slid my hands back out.
In time with the music, he slow-walked us back into shadow. I snagged his eyes and fluttered my hands to my breasts where I tucked the card into my dress.
He nuzzled my neck, and I made a soft noise while I dipped my hands into his front jacket pockets then around to his back trouser ones. Nada. One hand caressed my throat above my necklace. He chuckled and squeezed. Tight.
My wound screamed, not that I would give him the satisfaction. Calmly, I said, “You’re hurting me.” Twice now. This guy enjoyed inflicting pain. I forced myself to lean into him.
A wave hit me. His thrill of victory, his joy of my pain.
“Did I mention you’re hurting me?”
“Only a little.” His hand tightened.
I stepped on tiptoe. “I’m not much for S&M.” He squeezed my chin with this other hand, and I felt his cock as he shifted his hips, so he could rub it against me.
Bad idea, bub. I raised my fingers to the wrist that held my chin and pinched his median nerve, hard.
He barked, “Fuck!”
I shoved him. “I see you don’t like pain either, asshole,” and whirled away, right into another couple. “Oh, excuse me.” I walked on, aching to rub my neck, forcing myself not to. Then, Larrimer was there, taking me in his arms, and we danced toward the thicket of other couples.
“I was on my way over to murder the prick,” he said.
“I took care of it.” I smiled.
I peeked around his arm and saw Blondie rubbing his wrist, shooting daggers at me, teeth bared.
I told Larrimer about the Listerine, Shatzkin’s, and my suspicions as we spun around the room, my eyes on Blondie. Done rubbing his wrist, he crooked a finger at Roberto, who hustled over.
Larrimer gripped my arms. “Don’t ever do that again. Taunt someone like that.”
“Let me go,” I said, trying to control my temper. “I’ve been mauled enough for one night.”
Instantly released, I felt for the card I’d shoved into my cleavage. Still there. He jammed his hands into his pockets, and we walked toward the bar. “Swear to God you need a keeper.”
“I’m not yours to keep.”
“You risk things you don’t even know you’re risking.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
The air crackled between us, and I had the terrible urge to stand on tiptoe and meet those lips head on, to suck on them with my mouth, to tug on them with my teeth, to lick them until he licked mine back.
Snapping around to take my eyes off Larrimer, I discovered the merry band had decamped.
“Time to go,” he said, calm as can be.
Damn him. The volcano inside me felt like it’d blow any minute.
A heavy hand thudded onto my shoulder. “Hey, Clea!”
I whirled. A big-boned man with a ready grin and pale lashes pulled me in for a peck on the cheek.
“Mr. UPS! Todd, hi! Uh, Bernadette’s waiting up for me. Have to run. Sorry!” I gave his arm a quick squeeze as Larrimer steered me away. Off we went.
We stood just outside the clubhouse. The cold air, a balm.
“I don’t see the crew,” I said.
We’d walked halfway to the truck when Larrimer whispered, “Stop.”
Cold wind hissed around us, and I caught a scent. Listerine.
Blondie, I mouthed.
He nodded. We circled back behind a row of cars toward the truck and waited. Pebbles sprayed and footfalls sounded. The scent intensified. A whistle.
I slid my hand through the slit in my dress and pulled out my gun, keeping it parallel to my leg. Larrimer reached beneath his jacket, and a Beretta appeared in his hand.
Then Froggy and Diane erupted from the clubhouse along with several other couples. Flashlights bobbed in the parking lot as folks made for their cars.
I stilled, tried to catch Blondie’s antiseptic scent. Seconds later, we were at the truck. I opened the passenger door with a near-silent click, glad I’d disabled the interior light. Larrimer did the same on the driver’s side.
Breathing hard, tense, riding that juice of adrenaline, I slumped down, as did Larrimer, so we wouldn’t be overtly visible. Larrimer turned the key, and all she gave were a few pathetic cranks.
Bad luck, or someone had fooled with the truck. Luck? Yeah, right.
Larrimer tried again. Same deal.
Around us, car lights were popping on. I imagined Blondie’s crew, out there in the darkness.
I leaned over the seat back and groped.
“What are you doing?” Larrimer said with a whisper.
“Boots.” I doffed my heels and laced them up. “I wish I’d brought more firepower.”
“Always fun to go out guns blazing.”
“Let’s go after them.”
He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, too many bystanders around.”
“Yes, okay, collateral damage. How about we pretend I’m drunk?”
He nodded. “We’ll hitch a ride.”
We waited until the next rush of partygoers poured from the country club. I cracked my door and we crept out my side. He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I staggered toward a down-coated couple.
“Can you help us?” Larrimer said. “My wife had a bit too much to drink. She lost our keys.”
“Ummmm,” the man said.
These dudes were drunk for real.
“We’d be happy to give you a ride,” came the voice from the darkness, one I recognized.
Blondie appeared, grinning.
Why did they always grin?
“You’re not going our way,” Larrimer said.
“We’d be happy to make an exc
eption,” Blondie countered.
The other couple said, “Great!” and vanished into the night.
Partygoers streamed around us.
Phantom-quick, Larrimer had Blondie on the ground and out cold. Just as swiftly, he pushed me down so I flopped onto Blondie like a beached fish. A near-silent muzzle flash sparked the darkness.
From where?
I could fire back, we could take them, dammit, but in this crowd, the risks outweighed the gain.
He grabbed my hand and said, “Run.”
We rolled off Blondie, and took off for the woods, ones I knew so very well.
Larrimer moved like the wind, silent, swift. Me, after him. Behind us came the herd of elephants. Two, maybe three followers.
Ice and snow hindered us, and he dropped behind me. I felt him stop, and paused. He turned, fired at our pursuers. A shout of pain.
“Go!” he said.
I ran in stealth mode over snow-covered ground, and Larrimer, he was a ghost. We hugged the tree line, close to a field that sparkled in the moonlit night.
“If the blond was The Master—” Larrimer said as we ran.
“He’s not,” I hissed.
“You can’t know that.”
But I did.
We passed a pine marked with a tripod. I felt it, a pull, a tug I hadn’t sensed in almost fifteen years. My steps slowed.
“Clea, dammit! Hurry!”
I ran.
Breath chuffing, picking up the pace, sliding into a rhythm, except I wasn’t there, but nine-years-old again, at the cave.
’mon, Clea, you gotta see this.”
I want to see it, but the day we’d hiked up here, Dave said it was a no-go zone.
Except Tommy says it’s so cool.
I run, leaves slapping me, Tommy in front of me, darting in and out. He’s so fast!
I giggle, laughing for the joy of it. “Tommy!”
He doesn’t pay any attention. When we’re on a mission, he never does.
We’re being bad. Dave would be angry. But Tommy’s right, sometimes being bad is fun.
Faster, faster, breath coming harder and harder, like I’m running through jello, which is sorta freaky.
And I get to the big rock, but he’s not there!
“Tommmmy!”
I hate when he does this. Teases me. Scares me. When he hides or like when he stuck that snake under my nose. Ewwww. He better not…
He peeks around the big rock, laughing with his hand covering his mouth, his whole skinny body shaking.
I slap my hands on my hips. “You’re mean.”
He holds out his arms, and I run to him.
“Aw, Clea,” he says, “You’re so fun to scare. I’m sorry.”
His hand smoothing my hair feels nice.
He leads me around the rock. “Look.”
“A cave!” I say.
“Yeah, cool, huh?”
“Have you been inside?”
“Nope. I wanted to explore with you, sweetness.”
“Thanks.” I kiss his cheek.
“Jeez, Clea.” He swipes it away. “Cut the girly crap.”
“Sorry.” I giggle, feel like slobbering kisses all over him, just ‘cause he’d think that is gross.
He tugs my hand. “C’mon.”
The entrance is really big, ginormous, and covered in thorny vines.
We step closer. Pins and needles all over my skin, like when your leg wakes up. I go to tell Tommy, but he doesn’t sense things like I do. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
He’s brought his favorite knife, and he starts cutting the vines. When a bunch fall to the ground, I move in front of him and lift my foot to step inside.
Something I can’t see pushes back, more pricklies. Ohboy. I shake my head. Fizzy. I peek in, where there’s some light, except only a little ways. The walls curve up high into blackness. I shake my head. Just plain spooky.
This has to be the coolest. I step again, and again, and my red Cons feel like they’re pushing on Play Doh. I lift my hands, and that same thingie pushes back on them, and I…
But something pulls me, too. Calls me in the prettiest way. Not a voice, but a song, yeah, in my head. And I see…
“Clea! Clea!”
Dave! I jump back, twirl around.
Tommy stops, knife at another vine.
“We’re screwed,” he says. “We’re so screwed.”
I chew my lip.
“Clea! Clea!”
“He’s getting close,” I say to Tommy, his face all scared.
I don’t understand why Dave doesn’t love him like he does me. He never gives Tommy a pass. Never.
“Okay,” I say. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You hide inside the cave.”
Tommy folds his knife and slips it into his jeans, face tight and brave. “I’m not afraid of Dave.”
But he is. “I know that! But he’s better with me.”
Seconds pass, and Tommy gives, and I’m so glad.
“Yeah. Yeah,” he says. “All right.”
“Clea! Clea!”
“He’s close!” I mouth. “Hurry.”
Tommy dashes to the cave. “Hey, what’s with this way-out…” And then, he’s inside. I look over my shoulder to make sure I can’t see his hiding place, then I walk in front of the granite rock.
I wave. “Over here, Dave!”
Soon, he stands in front of me, really mad. He puts a hand over his eyes, sighs, then gives me a long hug.
Dave’s shaking, but he’s not mad now. Fear. He’s scared. “What’s the matter? I was just—”
“You’re all right?” he says.
“Sure!” I grin, so glad he hasn’t seen Tommy.
He brushes hair from my face and scooches down, so we’re eye to eye. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and that’s when I realize no birds are singing and no little animals are making noise. And Tommy, he’s always so noisy, but now I don’t hear him, either.
Dave’s pretty eyes soften. “Honey, I told you never to come here. Remember that hike?”
I bob my head. “I remember.”
“Please. Never come here again. Promise.”
I don’t want to promise. I never break my promises to Dave, and he knows that. And I want to explore the cave with Tommy. Those prickles and oohh, it was cool.
But Dave’s eyes, so scared and puddled with love.
“I promise.”
It’s around ten, and I’m in my bed, drinking water to stay awake, and I’ll have to pee soon. I just know it.
Bernadette’s up way late for her, and I’m really pooped. We have school tomorrow.
The sound of the door, doggies yipping, Bernadette’s happy cry. Tommy’s home. Yeah.
Boy, I bet he had a really great adventure. Without me.
Can’t keep my eyes open, but it’s okay now, he’s home. I really wish I didn’t always keep my promises to Dave. I wish I was a badder girl.
Maybe someday, I will be.
I was back in the forest, running beside Larrimer, no longer spring, toes numb from freezing cold. Running, running, chased by thugs.
Tommy had carved that tripod long ago, marked the tree on the path to the cave.
A surge of energy, a drug through my veins, but more. I slowed, a terrible compulsion pulling me toward that tripod, that rock edifice, that cave.
“Almost there.” Larrimer wrapped his hand around mine. “C’mon.”
“Right.” It came out breathy, distant. “Right.”
We stood on the edge of the trees by the highway. I sucked air into my lungs, trying to catch my breath. Silence behind us. We’d lost them.
I tucked away that strange-sad memory of the cave and thought about Blondie.
Larrimer shuddered, as if shaking off some warrior fever.
“James?”
His long stare smoldered with cold fire.
“He’s not The Master,” I said. “I just know.”
“You’re freezing, aren’t you.”
Somewhere along the way, I’d lost my shawl. Damn, I loved that thing. “So are you.”
He took off his tux jacket and laid it across my shoulders. “Call.”
I shook my head. “It’s one in the morning. I hate waking her.” She’d rip me a new one, too.
“Just do it.”
“What are you, a Nike commercial?”
He smirked. “That’s so yesterday, babe.”
I ground my teeth, then spoke a name into my phone. It dialed.
“What mess did you and sonny boy get into now, cookie?” Bernadette said.
Worse than death.
Five-thirty came early the following morning. On my tablet, I fired off my latest report to Balfour. Not that it would do any good. Without putting too fine a point on it, his silence was deafening. Normally, I’d call, go all, “what the hell’s up with you?” Normally.
Today, my gut was screeching, “Danger, Will Robinson!” My confidence in my greatest cheerleader and sounding board had officially eroded to a pinhead.
Downstairs, I slipped on my boots and jacket and walked to the barn.
I hoisted the grain bucket through Nott and Delling’s stall door, and as I poured the grain into their feeders, they bumped and nuzzled me with affection. They’d recovered, thank heavens.
I scratched their favorite places, freshened their water, and moved on to the next stall, knowing a certain bliss. Last night, it was ten degrees, today it had warmed enough that I didn’t need the rubber mallet for their water. Spring was coming. At least, that’s what I told myself when the grind of winter got me nuts.
The animals centered me, calmed me, reminded me of things free of violence and evil.
Then thoughts of Loki and Lofn burned away the peace. And of Dave. The killers had taken him from me, but, more importantly, from Lulu. I wanted to peel them from the inside out, to watch them suffer, to carve pieces out of them.
A cleared throat.
Lulu stared at me, eyes wide. “You’re looking, um, a little bloodthirsty.”
I blinked. What was she doing out here at five-thirty a.m.? I smiled. “Sorry, kiddo. In spring, we’ll get six new chicks, and I’ll purchase a pair of cashmere kids, too.”
“Will I be here in spring?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Chest of Bone (The Afterworld Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
