And that had happened each period.
He never smiled or said hi.
Flint glanced up the stairwell to the second-floor units and scrunched her nose, knowing she was dragging her feet. There was a strange car parked next to her dad’s red Ford truck.
A sleek black Maserati, and she only knew what it was because it was her dream car. Living in LA, that was the it car for young Hollywood types. She’d squelched her desire for one when it dawned on her she’d never in her life be able to afford it. Even used they cost a cool $100K easy.
Who had that kind of money? And what where they doing here?
She glanced around and then rushed up the stairs, opened the unlocked door with a breathless rush, heart plummeting when she heard the relaxed strains of female laughter floating from the kitchen.
The dizzying aroma of baked bread and rosemary teased Flint’s nose.
“Flinty,” her dad called, “that you, babe?”
He peeked out of the kitchen, eyes twinkling and holding the fluted stem of a wineglass full of something red.
She narrowed her eyes, praying to God that was grape juice.
“I’m home,” she grumped, dropping her bag on the floor.
His sandy-brown hair was combed back nicely. “Good, I want you to meet someone.”
Couldn’t he even wait until she washed her hands or something? Did he have to thrust blondie on her already?
But it was not the blonde she remembered from the show; instead, it was the brunette. Her dad’s arms were clamped to the woman’s shoulders.
She was petite and, judging by the few lines around her eyes, in her early twenties. Deep green eyes smiled shyly up at Flint. Holding out a hand, she said, “You must be Flint. Frank has told me so much about you.”
Lifting a brow at her father, Flint took the woman’s hand. It was a firm grip, as most performers had thanks to their years of grueling upper-body conditioning.
“I’m Katy.” Her voice was polite, soft, and breathy. Her smile was wide and friendly and a worm of doubt wiggled through Flint’s belly. “I know how awkward this must be for—”
Flint clicked her front teeth together. “I’m sure you don’t.”
“Actually”—she gave a weak grin and squeezed Frank’s hand—“I do. My mom did the same thing to me when I was sixteen and I pretty much wanted to kill her for it.”
“I’m seventeen,” she muttered but felt slightly mollified.
Maybe Katy wouldn’t be so bad.
And actually the dinner went a lot better than she’d expected it to. Her dad had made shrimp scampi, buttery goodness that dribbled down their chins and splattered on Flint’s dress, pretty much ruining it for future use.
Not that she had any intention of ever putting the stupid thing on again.
Katy was on her best behavior, trying to get Flint to talk, asking her about school, her grades (solid B student), but when the woman started prying about boys, Flint decided she’d done everything her father had asked of her. She’d not rolled her eyes once and didn’t have much else to say.
Also, she wanted to get away because every two minutes or so she’d feel her father’s foot reaching out, clearly trying to find Katy’s, which was beyond awkward.
“I’ve gotta go study.” She scooted back.
“Flint?” Her father frowned and she put on a smile.
It really hadn’t been as awful as she’d feared. But still, enough was enough.
“Frank, it’s the first time,” Katy said quietly and nodded. “It’s okay.”
Casting Katy a grateful smile, she dropped her plate in the sink and ran to her bedroom. But of course the second she got in there, she couldn’t study.
Flint sat on her bed, staring at an open book like she wanted to do it bodily harm before finally sighing in disgust and flipping the thing shut. Chances were she was going to get a C (C+ if she was lucky) whether she studied or not. She and history did not get along well.
But she also didn’t want to stay in the house. With the looks and the footsies and the word play. Did they think she was five? That she couldn’t figure out flirting when she saw it?
It wasn’t dark yet. Sun was maybe two hours away from setting.
A restless mood crept over her. She bounced her foot, listening to her dad and Katy laughing and talking in hushed, heated tones, and she shuddered.
She really wasn’t sure she could put her finger on it, because even though Katy had been nice and perfectly all right, Flint still didn’t like her.
She flung herself back on her bed, spread-eagle, staring out the window. The sky was gray but there were no clouds.
Flint sighed louder. If she walked out the front door, her dad would want to know where she was going and with whom, as well as when she’d be back and how she was going to get there. And right now she honestly didn’t have a clue. All she knew was she was suffocating. The air was thick, her head was pounding, and her tongue felt swollen. Her mother’s ghost was way too close and she needed to breathe or she was going to scream.
Grabbing her bright orange iPod off her nightstand, she put her earbuds in and tried to lose herself in the music. But all the rock was doing was getting her wound up and even antsier. Jackknifing to her feet, she paced like a restless tiger in its cage. Back and forth, back and forth.
What would her mother think?
Would she be okay with this?
Mad at Flint for making it so difficult?
Swallowing hard, she dropped her head into her hands. It’d been a year. He deserved to be happy.
But it hurt.
Like someone was reaching into her soul and yanking the death and the memories out again, making them fresh and so painful she wanted to cry.
When her mother had fallen, she’d broken. Like a twisted doll, her face still painted on. A doll’s face. Her mother had been obsessed with dolls. And she’d always painted herself to appear like a marionette without strings. To see her on the ground, body twisted and broken... it’d been surreal.
A memory she could never forget, no matter how many tears she cried. The doll was always there. Eyes closed, bow-shaped mouth open, a thin trail of blood flowing from the nose...
More laughter.
It yanked Flint from the bad place with a sharp jerk of her head.
It was Katy, and she was doing some sort of girly giggle. Flint gnashed her teeth, and grabbing a pillow, she shoved it over her face and screamed.
Which helped. A little.
It eased some of the tension zinging through her blood.
She knew what she needed. What she hadn’t done in weeks. It was kind of late to be even considering heading downtown, but if she didn’t do it, she was going to burst. Which also meant she’d have to tell her dad something.
Sitting down, she pulled her Adidas out from under the bed, slipped them on, and then grabbed a hoodie sweater just in case. Pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail, she was just headed to her door when she heard a knock.
“Flinty, open up.”
Pulling the buds out of her ears, she whisked the door open. “Dad?”
He eyed her up and down, his brow raised. “Going somewhere?”
Katy’s head peeked over his shoulder, her dark green eyes inquisitive, which made Flint bite down on her tongue to keep from saying “You mind?”
Returning her eyes to her dad, she nodded. “Going to the mall.”
“Oh.” His brows lifted. “Isn’t it getting kind of dark for that?”
She shrugged. “Not really.”
He dug into his pocket and tossed her the keys. “Take the truck then. Be home by ten.”
That was easy. Too easy. Why didn’t he care?
Unless he’d already made plans himself.
Snatching the keys out of the air, Flint asked, “You going somewhere?”
“Katy and I are headed to the circus to do some training.”
“You have a show tonight? I thought tonight was your night off.”
; Katy smiled. “Yes, but if we want to keep improving”—she squeezed her dad’s bicep and it was all Flint could do not to roll her eyes when he gave her big goofy grin as he flexed—“then we have to practice.”
“Aren’t you going to need the truck then?” Flint jangled the keys at her dad.
“No, Katy’s driving. Did you see that black Maserati outside?”
Of course.
And how did a circus performer afford one of those? She looked at Katy, who still wore a smile.
“’Kay, then.” She waved, needing to get out of the apartment like yesterday. With a quick hug for her dad, Flint grabbed her hat and sunglasses off the end table and ran out the door before her dad could change his mind.
~*~
Stretching, Flint eyed the nearly empty stretch of the shopping plaza. The left side was ablaze with people and shoppers, but down here, there was only one open shop, a New Age something or other with hanging crystals in the window. She couldn’t imagine a ton of people coming down this way, which meant she shouldn’t have to worry about cops stopping and telling her to leave.
The area over here was perfect, rails and steps, brick fronts and ledges.
The night was muggy.
Again.
And... She glanced at the sky. It was definitely starting to look a funky greenish-gray color. Which was weird, but no rain, though there was a little bit more wind now.
Still, she hadn’t done this in months and the excitement of moving her body in ways that defied the laws of gravity got her blood humming just like walking a tightrope used to do.
Body limber, she shook her wrists loose and then attacked the wall, nearly scaling the brick-face front like Spider-Man, then sailing over the ledge in a type of side-flip. Her stomach dropped as for a second she remembered landing on her face and almost busting her front tooth loose four months ago. But she squashed the fear and refused to think about anything other than jumping, scaling, and climbing, moving in and around obstacles in ways that most couldn’t.
Gone were the weird looks between her dad and Katy.
Gone was the girlie cry-fest she’d had on Janet’s shoulder at lunch.
Gone was Cain and his mean comments.
Flint grabbed hold of a metal beam and felt her biceps flex as she quickly released it, flying like a squirrel to the next and the next, until they were all gone and she was back to jumping and flipping.
She laughed, breathing heavily, losing herself in the delicious burn of flexing muscles. Time failed to register for her. Her father wasn’t home; he wouldn’t care how long she stayed out. So she danced across the buildings, over and over, failing to note the greenish-gray sky was now gathering tight with thick clouds of black.
Only when it became too dark to keep flipping did she finally stop, landing and breathing hard as she brushed the sweat off her furrowed brows.
Pieces of hair were stuck in her mouth, but she hardly noticed, all her attention focused on the creepy clouds that seemed to fluff up, dark and foreboding into the sky.
Then she became aware of another sensation.
Someone was watching her.
Flint twirled on her heel, every cell in her body alert and aware, feeling the penetrating gaze like a tangible weight on the back of her neck. The sidewalks were empty, the shops closed. Windows black and empty. There was only one car parked in the lot still. And it wasn’t hers.
Flint shivered, realizing just how dark it was and how far she’d come. Nearly to the end of the outdoor mall. Her truck was parked at least a half mile up.
In the distance, she thought maybe she heard some shouts of alarm, but she wasn’t sure. All she knew was she needed to get back home.
She hoofed it, but within seconds she was covering her head against the sudden onslaught of hailstones dropping constantly and painfully. One knocked into the crown of her head, making her dizzy for an instant.
She held out her hands for balance, and then a cry sprang from her lips when a hard set of hands clamped down on her waist.
“No!” She screamed, kicking in confusion.
“Princess, it’s just me.” Cain’s deep voice penetrated the fog of fear in her head. He wasn’t looking at her but at the sky. “C’mon,” he said, gritting the words out.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked as he pulled her along to the black Corvette parked alone in the middle of the empty lot.
“Out of here. Get in.” He jerked his head toward her door.
She grimaced when another chunk of hail dive-bombed her head, then jumped inside. The second she sat, the sky opened up with a roar, dumping buckets of water on them. Cain turned on the car, started the wipers, and then peeled out in a loud squeal of rubber.
For a second he didn’t say anything, and honestly, she was still confused how he’d even found her.
He was wearing black again, but this time he’d switched it up and added a pearly-gray button-down shirt. The top button was undone and her heart tried to beat out of her chest. She licked her lips, wondering how much damage her dad’s truck was taking.
“You should probably slow down,” she said, her stomach bottoming out as she sensed rather than felt the car begin to hydroplane.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “No. There’s a tornado coming.”
“Wait. What!” She twisted in her seat, and sure enough a large vortex of air was gathering and forming into a funnel behind them.
Adrenaline pulsed through her body so hard she tasted its bitter fuel.
“Oh my God! Ohmyg—”
“Just breathe. We’re almost there.”
He was flying down the two-lane road, trees towering on either side of them. Wherever he was taking them, it was secluded and private. She’d driven this road before—there was nothing out here but deer and cattle.
“Aren’t cars the worst place to be in a tornado?” she asked, starting to feel as if her lips were going numb. She pushed her forearm into her stomach to calm her nerves.
Wind buffeted the car from every direction, blasting so hard against the metal she swore she heard something groan.
“We’re not staying in the car.”
Slowing down, he turned onto a private dirt road. Rocks dinged off the hood of the car.
A Corvette.
An expensive, man’s man kind of car, and he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t slow as the trees rushed past in a blur. Flint gripped the door handle, refusing to turn back and look again even though her nerves were strung so tight she thought she might hurl right in his lap.
Which he probably deserved.
She licked her lips, pulse thumping. “How did you know where I was?”
He parked the car and pulled his keys out. “C’mon.” He opened the door, which nearly flew out of his hands in a gale-force gust. There was nothing around, just a plot of empty land and a pile of wood.
“What is this?” she cried into the wind that ripped her words away.
A loud roaring sound whipped around them. Rain and sleet drenched her in seconds as she ran behind him. Cain looked even bigger than she remembered.
He grabbed hold of a silver handle on the pile of wood, and the muscles in his back rippled against his wet shirt. She swallowed hard, realizing they were literally seconds away from being sucked up and torn to pieces.
Forty-foot trees in the distance swayed and bent, the leaves rattling so hard they sounded eerie.
Then he turned, his perpetual scowl back in place as he gestured for her to follow him. What she’d assumed to be nothing but a woodpile was actually an opening into the earth. It was dark and tight, but there were steps that led down far enough that she finally understood it was some sort of shelter.
Flint jumped inside and walked down four steps, then waited for Cain to bar the door in place. The second he did, it seemed like the whistling and howling outside actually increased. And everything turned pitch-black. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Princess?” Cain’s voice was softer, less gruff.
“Here.”
A warm hand pressed into her back before sliding around to the side of her arm and latching on to her hand. And though they were safe from the madness of the storm, a different sort of madness settled in Flint’s bones.
“Let me get in front of you.” He scooted around her, his big body brushing against every bit of her, mashing her breasts into his chest.
She inhaled sharply as her stomach tightened with heat and tendrils of anxiety.
“Stay close,” he muttered, releasing her hand. “Hang on to my back.”
Though she knew he couldn’t see her, she nodded anyway and placed her hands on the wide expanse of his shoulders.
“Step. Step. Step.” He told her where to go until finally they were on level ground. “Hang on right here.”
She hugged her wet arms to herself and shivered; without his close heat, the cold was definitely starting to slip in. Then she blinked against the immediate wash of bright white light. He’d turned on a battery lantern and then another, and another, until the entire room blazed a bright white.
The whistling shriek above was a cold reminder that they’d barely escaped something terrible.
He looked at her, his hot gaze feeling like a torch on her sensitive body. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t look away, feeling like a cornered rabbit in a snare the way he studied her.
Flint couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. A dripping-wet redhead with matted hair and flaming-red cheeks. Not to mention the hail had ripped the sleeve of her left arm open. She bit her lip.
“You’re wet,” he finally said. “You need to get out of those cold clothes before you catch your death.” His voice was that deep shivery sound again, the one that made her body tingle.
She cocked her eyebrow, the cold forgotten for a moment. “Thanks for saving my life, Cain, but I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you.”
Her jaw dropped when he smiled. And it wasn’t the cocky, smug grin she’d grown used to with him, but a full-on, megawatt movie-star smolder, and her insides quaked.
“Princess, the things that come out of your mouth.”
Then he was walking up to her and she backed up against the dirt wall, holding her hands out. But he gently batted them away and gripped the hem of her shirt in his fingers.
Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1) Page 10
