Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series

by Laurie D'Ghent

  Integrity undid her seat belt and popped her door open. “Oh, come on. Think of it as an adventure. Everyone needs a good Wal*Mart trip.”

  Evan climbed, rather reluctantly, from his posh car. Already people in the parking lot were gathering, at a discreet distance, pointing and whispering. Evan locked the doors with his keyless entry, then hit the button again to make sure. The horn honked and the headlights flashed once. Walking toward the store, he muttered, “They better not touch my car. I'd hate to have to kill them.”

  “Suddenly gaining a conscience?” Integrity teased.

  “Hardly. I don't dine at McDonald's, either.”

  As they entered the store, Integrity replied, “Well, there's a first time for everything. In fact...” She waved suggestively at a McDonald's just to their right.

  Evan grimaced. “How plebeian,” he monotoned.

  “Shhh,” Integrity hushed, glancing to make sure no one had heard him. Then, mocking his tone, she said, “How aristocratic.” She stuck her nose in the air and sauntered deeper into the store, trusting that Evan would follow. After all, what's the point of saving me from the rebels just to loose me in “plebeian” Wal*Mart?

  At the front of the men's clothing section, Integrity spotted a large sign. “Ooh, sale!” she said, jogging forward, doing her best to sound like an airhead in an effort to make this as painful for Evan as possible. She grabbed a lurid pink shirt, huge orange flowers clashing horribly with the background. “Only five dollars,” she singsonged, swinging the shirt back and forth in front of Evan.

  Evan ripped the shirt from her hand and crammed it back on the rack. “I hardly think it's worth buying when I'd pay someone a thousand to destroy it.”

  “This coming from the man who is wearing every item of clothing he currently owns.” She moved deeper in, weaving between the round stands of clothing. “What size do you wear?” she called over her shoulder as she paused a display of folded jeans.

  Evan snorted, stopping behind her. “I wear Armani, not...” he lifted a tag hanging from one pair, “Faded Glory.” He made Faded Glory sound like dog poop.

  Integrity looked at the price tag. “I'll have you know, I never would have paid $22 for a pair of jeans for myself. Count your blessings.” She pulled a pair from the shelf and held them up in front of him. He stepped back. “Fine, go try these on,” she said, holding them out to him and jerking her head toward the changing rooms.

  Evan looked at the cubicles for a moment, stunned, then said, “Not gonna happen.” He took the jeans from her and jammed them back on the shelf, not bothering to fold them.

  What started out as a joke was becoming offensive. “Fine, live in one pair of clothes, but, I warn you, I'm not going out with you in public all the time dressed like you're in the secret service.” She hunched her shoulders and looked behind him. “People are staring at you, ya know,” she hissed.

  “That's because they can't believe a movie star is walking through Wal*Mart,” he hissed back. “My suit's been defiled just by walking through the door.”

  Integrity crossed her arms. “What a shame. Although I don't know what you expect to wear while you send out your Armani to the dry cleaners. Maybe that formal you bought me today?” She tapped her chin, musing.

  “We're leaving.” Evan grabbed her by her bicep and began frog marching her toward the exit.

  “I could scream, you know,” she hissed at him, her face hot from the stares they were receiving.

  “I could kill every single person in here, you know.” He squeezed her arm, making her wince. Leaning in closer, he whispered coldly, “It's not wise to threaten someone who has nothing to lose.”

  Integrity shut her mouth and allowed him to drag her to the car.

  Є

  The next morning Integrity woke to find herself alone in the suite. Already irritable from the Wal*Mart fiasco, her mood continued to disintegrate as the minutes ticked by. Frustrated, she determined to clean herself up and go see if there was some kind of continental breakfast available. It'd serve him right to come back and find me gone. Turn about's fair play.

  By the time she had gotten ready, her determination had quailed. She knew it was idiotic, but she felt that leaving the hotel room by herself would leave her far too exposed, as though a rouge sniper was resting on the roof just waiting for her appetite to get the best of her. For a moment she wondered if something had happened to Evan, but thrust any concern she might have felt aside. “You don't want to be a prisoner for the rest of your life,” she told herself in an undertone, hesitating before the door. She reached for the doorknob, but couldn't seem to make her fingers actually close on it. She sighed in disgust. “It's not that hard!” she chastised herself. When the doorknob turned, she leaped back reflexively.

  “Talking to yourself again?” Evan asked, unconcerned. Not ever looking at her, he turned and shut the door behind him, slapping the security lock into place. He brushed past her, setting a paper bag down on the counter as he moved toward the balcony. “There's your breakfast.”

  Integrity clenched her jaw, hovering by the door before conceding and swiping the bag off the counter. She stalked out onto the balcony and sank onto one of the loungers, pawing through the bag to see what she had to choose from. She was irked that he acted as though he hadn't frog marched her out of a store yesterday. “I was just about to go to the lobby and get some food,” she muttered.

  Evan laughed. “You know, room service will actually bring the food to your room. You don't have to go pick it up.”

  “I was just gonna get a bagel or something at their breakfast,” she rejoined, pulling a paper milk carton from the bag.

  “Whose breakfast?”

  Integrity rolled her eyes, fighting with the mooshy cardboard to get the stupid thing open. “The hotel's, genius.”

  “Why would you go to the lobby?” Evan sounded thoroughly mystified.

  “For the continental breakfast!” By now, the milk carton was fairly deformed and there were a few pieces of paper floating in her milk, but she drank it anyway.

  “In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly a Motel 6.” He waved at the view behind him, the early morning sun glittering on the still water.

  “Okay, fine, whatever, I'll order room service next time you disappear.” She felt a piece of cardboard in her mouth, but didn't want to go fishing for it in front of Evan, so she stubbornly locked her jaw and tried to ignore it.

  “Why don't you practice some patience and protect our cover, instead.” It was not a question.

  “What, I can't eat now? I'm sure that's what you were doing.”

  Evan stiffened slightly. “Just don't make a habit of ordering room service. We don't need our movements to become predictable.”

  “Yes, sir,” she snotted off, though not loudly. She took a bite of her stupid hash brown, devoting all of her energy to ignoring him.

  Є

  Time started to take on meaning, for the first time since she had first been taken to Westmarch, and the reason was shameful—TV. While returning to the land of the living, hearing the constant hum of traffic, nearby doors closing, was still awkward, television slipped into place like a favorite pair of worn tennies. While Integrity was chagrined to be constantly checking the clock, her internal TV Guide taking over automatically, she found the shows a welcome break from the tension of having Evan around constantly. At least at Westmarch she could retreat to her own room—here, the floor plan was so open that she didn't feel like she had real privacy anywhere.

  One weeknight, Integrity glanced at the clock and, noting the time, hustled to turn on the TV and flip to a channel without any hesitation. She settled back, ready to enjoy her new favorite series, ready to be sucked in so thoroughly that she could ignore Evan completely; at least, until the commercials.

  As per his usual, Evan was stationed on the balcony, the sliding door open between them. At the sound of a gunshot, he was in the room almost instantly. Unexpectedly, he was staring at the TV rathe
r than looking for a potential assassin. Integrity busted up laughing.

  His shoulders slumping slightly, Evan muttered, “Okay, okay, I was listening. Who got shot?”

  “Just some girl,” Integrity replied, waving it off as inconsequential even as her mind reeled with the potential consequences of the turn of events.

  “Shannon?” His voice almost sounded eager. “Who shot her?”

  Integrity crossed her arms smugly. “If you're that in to the show, why didn't you just come in here and watch it?” She leaned back in her seat, tucking one foot underneath the opposite leg.

  Evan looked at the TV with apprehension. “I've never really been intrigued by...that.” He pointed at the TV, avoiding saying the word. “This show is...different, somehow.”

  “So, are you caught up on everything?” Integrity asked, setting both feet back on the floor and leaning forward, hoping for the chance to pick at the little intricacies and try out theories on someone capable of keeping up.

  Seeming to crumple, Evan dropped abruptly into an armchair. “Yes,” he said, sounding as though he were waiting for the taunting to start.

  “So, what the heck is going on?” Integrity asked in rapt frustration.

  Effortlessly, Evan started picking apart the plot line and throwing out his own suggestions. When the show picked up, he dropped off mid-word and started watching intently. For a moment, Integrity was more intrigued with watching his reactions, but the show quickly gained precedence once more.

  On the next commercial break, they both leaned back at the same time, disconnecting from the screen. “So, if you were there, who would you hook up with?” Integrity asked, more curious than she wanted to let on.

  Evan thought for a moment, mulling over the options, then asked, “Who would you pick for me?”

  Integrity frowned and scratched her neck. “Okay,” she said after a brief pause, “I've got it. It would either be Shannon or that blond chick from the other settlement.”

  Evan laughed. “Why?” He sounded completely baffled in her selection.

  “Well, Shannon's only focused on herself, so who cares if you get hungry and take her out. And the other chick...well, I think she could take you if you got out of line.”

  Evan tilted his head slightly. “Fair enough. Then I'd put you with the Arabic guy.”

  Integrity wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? I'd take the bald guy.”

  Evan pulled back, pulling a horrified face. “Him? He's old enough to be your dad. That's just nasty.”

  “Hey, age isn't everything,” Integrity defended herself. “Besides, how's he any worse than the guy everyone thinks is a terrorist?”

  Evan hesitated for a moment, as though editing his thoughts. “I think he'd take you out, if you got out of line,” he replied, mimicking her own reasoning.

  “Dude, Shannon's got hair as long as his! Why you gotta give me the guy that could pass as a girl from the back?”

  “Why you gotta stick me with the blonds?”

  She scoffed. “Please, you should thank me. Every guy wants the skinny blond that runs around in a bikini.”

  “Not every guy,” Evan said, then held up his hand to stall her response as the show came back on.

  Integrity had to drag her eyes back to the screen, tucking her hair self-consciously behind one ear. She wished he hadn't looked at her that way before turning back to the show. The Iraqi was starting to look better and better. At least getting blown up is faster than having all the blood drained from my body... She shivered and focused back on the show.

  Є

  Integrity woke far earlier than normal and ended up out on the balcony, watching the calm waters turn from a golden pink to a deep, crystal blue. It made her laugh that one early morning jogger was wearing a hoodie when she found the early morning warmth almost overwhelming. It would be a hot day, there was no doubt about that.

  She wasn't sure where Evan had gone, but she didn't really care, either. It was nice to have some alone time, though she knew it would be short. When he did return, she was unsurprised to see him carrying a few groceries. As he put them away, she walked into the kitchen and sat in one of the high stools at the bar. “I want to go build a sand castle.”

  Evan didn't pause as he continued his task. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Why not?” She hadn't expected him to object to such a small request, especially since there was a beach within spitting distance of them.

  “Bad idea.” Although his answer was short, his tone was not.

  “What do you mean, it's a bad idea? It's just a sand castle.”

  Evan slid a half gallon of milk into the fridge and turned to face her. “It's too open. I can't keep you safe out there.”

  Integrity rolled her eyes, fighting down a slight sense of panic. “What, the resistance has snipers trained on the beach, just waiting for me to go skipping out there with a pail and shovel?”

  “Shucky-darn,” he replied with an exaggerated snap. “I forgot to pick up a pail and shovel at the store. Guess you can't go build a sand castle. Oh, well.” He sounded far too innocent to be sincere.

  “I don't need no shovel and pail.” She bounced up and down on the chair like an impatient toddler. “Pleeeeaaaase?”

  Evan sighed inaudibly. He rubbed his eyes, tired.

  “You did say I'm not a prisoner,” she coaxed.

  He dropped his hand. “Fine.”

  “Yes!”

  He held up a hand. “Before you go getting all excited, there are some ground rules.” She groaned, but he ignored her and continued. “If I say we leave, we leave—no questions, no hesitation. You immediately stand and head back here. Understood?”

  “Yeah,” she groused, not really meaning it. After all, she hadn't been able to completely quell the fear that had crept up on her at the mere thought of danger. It's been kind of nice, pretending my life's 'normal,' she grumbled. Well, as normal as being in a hotel with someone you can't stand can be.

  As they crossed the hot asphalt of the parking lot, Evan unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up. Integrity laughed to herself—as if rolling up the cuffs of your dress shirt really make you beach ready. Although I never thought I'd be going to the shore in capris that cost as much as a used car.

  Despite his professional attire, after a quick scan, Evan flopped down on the sand, leaning back onto his elbows. Deciding to ignore him, Integrity picked a spot of sand near the gently lapping water and began scooping it into a mound to start her castle. Unfortunately, she quickly realized why everyone always uses a bucket to make sandcastles. Frustrated that the sand kept sliding down the hill she had formed, she quickly changed her plan and started forming a long shape, closer to the ground. The beach was completely deserted.

  The heat of the sun beat down, forcing the tense muscles between her shoulder blades to relax. A short distance away, a stately paddle-wheel boat rested at the short dock, no doubt built specifically for it. Very little noise from the traffic permeated here, the bulk of the hotel deflecting almost all of it. Integrity forgot about Evan, about the resistance, about everything and allowed herself to simply enjoy where she was, what she was doing. It had been over a year since she had felt such serenity.

  When she was nearly finished, she glanced in Evan's direction. He appeared to be asleep under the sun. When she snorted, thinking about the paradox of a vampire sunbathing on a private beach, he opened one eye and peered at her. She quickly focused her attention back on her masterpiece. She was nearly finished.

  She hadn't realized Evan had risen until his shadow fell across her. “Nice bear,” he said, not sounding interested. “I thought you were going to build a castle?” She knew he was trying to irk her.

  Not looking at him, she smoothed the expanse of the bear's stomach. “Well, I would have, but someone wasn't prepared,” she jabbed back. She tried to shrug off her embarrassment at the cartoonish bear in front of her. It was far from impressive, and rather childish. She wanted to smash her hand down in its
center, flattening it, but knew it was only because Evan's scrutiny was bothering her. A piece of the muzzle settled, leaving a large fissure. She sighed and waved her hand at it, as though it didn't matter. The quicker she could get Evan away from something that now felt somehow personal, the better.

  When Evan crouched down, she thought he would smash the bear as she had been itching to do. She actually wrinkled her nose in disbelief when Evan set to work repairing the damage. She couldn't help but laugh when he moved his hands away and there were deep ridges left from where his fingers had been. “I think you squeezed just a little too hard.”

  Evan tried to repair the damage, remaining silent, but the sand had grown too dry and began to crumble catastrophically. He sat back with a grunt. “Well, that's just great.”

  Brushing away the loose sand, Integrity said, “Ah, he can just be the faceless bear. That's much deeper, anyway. Isn't it? Modern art, or something?'

  “I think,” he rejoined, “that we need a bucket.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  She had thought he was joking when he'd asked if she wanted to see a real bear. She kept thinking there was some kind of catch until they actually walked through the entrance of the San Diego Zoo.

  Even when reality set in, she still felt uncomfortable. She had lived the majority of the past year in near isolation, and the hundreds of people swarming around her was disconcerting. She kept glancing over her shoulder, waiting for someone to recognize her (and possibly kill her).

  “Relax,” Evan said, close to her ear. She flinched. “There aren't any here.”

  “Any what?” she hissed back, still scanning the crowd nervously. Evan cleared his throat and lowered his hands in front of his torso, gesturing to himself. “You can...recognize each other?”

  Evan brushed her comment off. “When you live with...us...for as long as I have, you develop a kind of radar.” When she continued to look unconvinced, he added, “Trust me. I'll notice if any show up.”

  Integrity scratched one arm, as though trying to scrape the skin off. “Forgive me if I don't think you can scan two hundred people in twelve seconds.”