by Elle Casey
“Teagan, what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, Colin!” I turn around sloppily and throw my arms around him, hugging his neck as hard as I can. I was drowning in near-death sorrow half a second ago, but now I feel saved. The relief is overwhelming. “I’m so glad you’re here!” I’m screaming and crying at the same time.
“Sit here,” he says, detaching me from his neck with strong hands and pushing me down to the ground.
I fall half the distance to the floor on my ass and have just enough time to push my hair out of my face and enjoy the show. Colin closes in on my attackers and begins to systematically pound their faces into purple mush.
At first I cheer him on, seeing my life expectancy gain ground as my kidnappers become weaker and weaker, but I soon downshift into worried. Killing my attackers might not be the best revenge I can think of nor the best plan for convincing Rebel that I’m a good bet for a girlfriend. I doubt that me being the reason his brother ends up in prison for life would be considered good family relations.
“Colin! Stop!”
He keeps going, some kind of deaf, dumb and blind rage fueling his fists. And they’re big fists, holy mother of Trouble, thank you very much. Each one looks like a sledgehammer, and from all the blood and swollen body parts I’m witnessing, I’m thinking they probably feel like sledgehammers too.
I crawl over on hands and knees, grabbing his ankle. It flexes and bends under my fingers as he continues to punish Dack’s body. Robert has long since passed out. Or maybe he’s dead. I can’t see his face, but he’s not moving and he’s face-down on the concrete floor.
“Colin! Stop! Don’t kill him! I need to know who he works for!”
Colin’s fist hovers above him in the air as he pauses. “What?” he asks, turning around to look at me.
I can barely get the words out, I’m so breathless with the whole freaking-out thing. I sound like I just ran a marathon in flip flops. “They’re working for someone. They came to steal something from me that my dad gave me. I need to know who their boss is.”
Before they lawyer up, I want to know what and who I’m dealing with. In the hours before these turds came and ruined a perfectly decent barbecue and then tore some of my hair out, I might have been content to just let things lie, but not anymore. Nobody gives me a bald spot and gets away with it. I want justice. Really, I just want my hair back, but since I can’t have that, I’ll settle for a little revenge. The word vigilante suddenly has a nice ring to it.
Colin stands, grabbing Dack by the collar and yanking him up.
Dack shouts in pain and leans over to spit on Rebel’s door. I watch in horror as a glob of bloody goo drips down the wood leaving a smear behind. I think there might be a tooth mixed in with it, and that little tidbit of awful makes my stomach flip over not once, not twice, but three times. Hat trick! Oh God … The vomit is coming…
“Who the hell are you and why are you here in my house?” Colin asks, his face two inches from Dack’s.
“Fuck you, ath-hole” Dack whispers.
Yup … he has spaces where his front teeth used to be. I don’t think he means to sound like a lispy Clint Eastwood, but he does a pretty good impression anyway.
“One more chance before I send you to the hospital for a nice coma-cation,” says Colin.
“Coma-cation?” I ask.
He grins at me in a sickly devious way. “Vacation, coma-style.”
I swallow with difficulty. “Sorry I asked. Please don’t.”
Colin frowns. “Why not?”
“Because. You’ll get in trouble, and Rebel will hate me for getting you there.”
Colin sneers. “I’m not worried about Rebel.” He turns back to Dack. “Who do you work for and what do they want? Tell me or I crack your skull, and trust me, that’s not just an expression.”
Even I can tell how serious Colin is. A sigh of relief blasts out of me when Dack obviously senses it too.
“I don’t know. Some dude in a suit hired me to find this girl and get the thumb drive that was sent to her, that’s it.”
“And what are you supposed to do with it when you get it?”
Dack sags down into his shirt. The collar goes up around his ears as he loses all of his remaining resistance. “I have an overnight postage envelope to send it in. It’s in the car.”
Colin drops him to the floor and turns to me with a big grin. “That was easy.” His grin instantly falls off as he turns around and kicks Dack squarely in the face, sending him flying onto his back unconscious.
“Oh shit,” I squeak, taken aback by the violence. Seeing Colin nearly beat the guy to death was bad enough, but that last move looked like it was done for the sheer fun of it. Colin scares me.
Colin walks back to his apartment. He’s only in there for a few seconds before he’s out in the hallway again with his cell.
I crab-walk away from the mess of bodies by Rebel’s door over towards Colin’s apartment as he begins speaking on his phone.
“Yo, Rebel. We have a situation at the garage. Better get over here.” He pauses before continuing. “Yeah, she’s here. And she had company that I had to deal with, so hurry up before they wake up. Don’t bring the cops.”
I hear a raised voice coming from the phone, but I can’t tell what Rebel is saying.
“I don’t know! What the fuck, man, just get here!” He hangs up with a scowl and fixes me with a malevolent glare.
“What?” I ask, hating how meek I sound but just a tiny bit afraid I’m about to be punched.
“Stop looking at me like that!” he shouts.
“Like what?!” I shout back, the adrenaline in my system taking over my voice box.
“Like I’m going to smash your face in!”
“Are you?!” I scream.
He pulls his head back and looks at me quizzically. “No,” he finally says, smiling a little. “I don’t hit girls.”
For some reason this strikes me as hilarious. First I grin, but then I laugh. It goes from a giggle to a series of guffaws and snorts that girls really shouldn’t ever do outside of an all-girl slumber party. I can’t stop. My head is pounding with pain, but I just keep going. I curl into a fetal position, trying to save my stomach from executing more internal gymnastics.
“You okay?” he asks, bending down and picking me up by the armpits. I’m like a giant infant being set on toddling legs as he stares into my eyes.
“No, I don’t think so.” The laughing is finally subsiding, but now I’m too dizzy to think straight. My knees won’t lock to stand me up.
Colin tries to let me go, but soon realizes if he does I’ll be down for the count. Before I can explain that I think I might have a concussion, he swoops me up into his arms and walks with me into his apartment.
The entire room is spinning so fast, I can’t make heads or tails of it. “Put me down,” I say, my stomach and throat burning. “I’m gonna throw up.”
He races into the kitchen and sets me down in front of the sink, just in time for me to fall into it face-first and upchuck the rest of my sherbet punch.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I’M LYING IN A POOL of my own sweat on Colin’s leather couch with a cold, wet rag on my face when I hear Quin screaming out in the hallway.
I try to sit up, worried she’s in trouble, but the headache rages sharply and the room spins, so I lie down and pray Colin can save her.
He’s out the door in two seconds, abandoning his position at the armchair opposite me. I’m glad he’s no longer staring at me. His intensity is a lot more than I can handle right now.
The door flies open and Quin rushes through. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! What in the fricking fracking hell happened to you?!” She drops to her knees beside the couch and stares at my face. “Oh, honey, you look terrible.”
I try to smile, but I just don’t have it in me. “Thanks. That makes me feel loads better.”
“Where did you go? What happened to your face? Why are you here?”
&nbs
p; I close my eyes and swallow carefully, praying I’m not going to vomit on her. She’s just trying to help. “They kidnapped me outside your house.”
“Shut! Up!”
“I’m serious.”
“Shut! Up!”
I open one eye. “Can I tell the story or are you going to tell me to shut up another ten times?”
She puts her hand over her mouth. “You’re serious,” she mumbles out.
“Jesus, Quin. Do I look like I’m kidding?”
She shakes her head slowly as tears rush to her eyes.
“Stop. Do not cry. I can’t take it right now.” My own voice trembles with emotion.
I’m pretty sure I have a handle on it too, until I see Rebel’s hulking frame in the doorway. Something about seeing him standing there, his face a mask of anger, makes me completely lose whatever cool I might have collected over the past fifteen minutes waiting for them to arrive. My face is spasming with the effort of holding in my pain, but the tears themselves are out of control. They flow down my cheeks and into my ears.
Quin follows my gaze and looks over her shoulder, moving to the side as Rebel strides over.
He sits on the coffee table next to me and takes my hand in his. He says nothing. He just stares into my eyes, his face stern and lined with what looks like fury.
My heart is breaking because I’m not sure who the anger is for. Maybe he’s pissed I brought trouble to his doorstep. Who could blame him for that? Or maybe it’s the loogie on his door…
“I’ll clean up the mess,” I say, praying this will be enough to fix things.
“You …” He presses his lips together and then stands, dropping my hand. He’s over the coffee table with one big step and back out into the hallway before I can figure out what I said wrong.
“Where’s he going?” I ask.
Quin jumps up and runs after him. Standing in the doorway she throws her hand to her mouth and then squeaks. “No!” she yells, disappearing down the hall.
I hear all kinds of fumbling around and then yelling. A big boom is followed by the sound of someone grunting in pain. Quin’s voice is mixed in with all of it, but I can’t make out what anyone’s actually saying or doing.
I struggle to get off the couch, but only make it to a sitting-up position before I see Colin go flying backwards past the door. A second later, he’s up and running in the opposite direction. “No, Rebel! No! Hands off, man!”
I lean back in the cushions and inhale as much as I can, and then let it all out in one big shout.
“Reeebbeelllllll!”
All the sounds in the hallway cease.
First Quin’s head comes around the corner. “Good call,” she says in a loud whisper.
Then Rebel comes back into the apartment. He stops just a couple steps in, pushing his hands through his hair. One of his knuckles is bleeding.
“Stop it right now,” I say as sternly as I can. “No more violence.”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m pretty sure I have a concussion, and if someone doesn’t get me to the hospital soon, it’s possible I could go into a coma and die.”
His face goes slack and then furious again. “Are you serious?” His voice is so calm, I can’t tell if he’s angry, scared, or just curious.
“Yes. Maybe. Seriously. Please? Take me to the hospital?” I don’t plan it this way, but my vision suddenly going gray works really well to my advantage. I sense the darkness closing in again and can only think how grateful I am that I’m lying on a couch this time when I pass out.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
WHEN I COME-TO AGAIN, I’m wearing a really lame hospital gown and have an IV stuck in my hand. I frown when I look down and see a ring on my left ring finger. I don’t usually wear rings and this one isn’t mine. When I turn my hand over, I smile, noticing right away whose ring this is. Quin must have slipped it on for good luck or something.
Rebel is sitting in a chair next to me. He’s staring at me saying nothing.
“You know, that’s really freaking me out,” I say.
“What?”
“The staring and not talking thing.”
“You were unconscious.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He scoots his chair closer to my bed never breaking eye contact with me. “You feel okay?”
“All things considered, I guess.” I reach up with my non-IV hand and feel the spot on the back of my head where the hair is missing. It’s too tender to explore very well, but I know for sure I’m going to have to start wearing my hair differently to cover it up. Bring on the eighties hair clips.
“What do you want me to do with them?” he asks.
“With who?”
“The guys who took you.”
“What do you mean what do I want you to do with them? With them? What does that even mean?”
“Colin has them at the garage. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Rub ‘em out.” I say, trying to stay poker-faced.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Bury them in the backyard?”
“Yeah. Plant flowers over them too, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, no problem.” He stands to go.
I wait until he gets to the door. “Wait!” When he turns around I smile. “You didn’t think I was serious, did you?” There’s a sick little piece of me who is happy about the fact that he might actually bury someone who kidnapped me, just because I asked him to do it. That’s true love right there.
“I’ve decided never to make assumptions about you.”
“Well, I wasn’t serious. Come back here and talk to me.”
Rebel returns to his seat and picks up my hand, sandwiching it between his larger ones. “The doctor says my wife is going to be fine but that she has a concussion.”
“Your wife?” My face goes white and my heart skips a beat. I’m completely and totally freaked out.
He looks at the ring on my hand. “Quin said they wouldn’t tell us anything if we weren’t related. And I didn’t want to pretend I was your brother and then have them catch me kissing you.”
I smile as my face heats up. “You planned on kissing me?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”
He shrugs. “I’m a presumptuous guy, I guess.”
I pull on his hand. “I like that about you.”
He leans in and kisses me slowly, being very gentle but setting me on fire nonetheless.
“You are too much,” I whisper against his mouth.
“I think you can handle it,” he says in my ear as he moves his lips to kiss my neck.
I close my eyes and the room spins. It’s not from his sexy moves, though. I push him away weakly. “Don’t come to close. I’m liable to vomit on you.”
He backs away and sits down. “Tell me what you want me to do with those guys and it’ll be done. Colin’s waiting for my call.”
I sigh heavily. “I was going to have you bury them in the backyard, but how about we just call the cops instead?”
“You want to know where he was sending that drive?”
“I already know. It’s my father’s company, right?”
“No. It was a private address.”
“In Sunol?”
“No. San Jose.”
I shrug and look out the window. I can’t see anything but light coming in through sheer curtains. “It doesn’t matter. The police will figure it out.”
“You don’t want to talk about it,” he says simply.
“No, not really.”
He squeezes my hand, forcing me to look at him.
“What?” I say.
“Sometimes when you don’t want to talk about something, that’s when you should do it. Talk about it. Just get it out.”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you.”
“Trust me. I know about these things.”
“Tell me about that girl,” I say on impulse. It’s th
e best I can do to avoid what he wants to discuss. Maybe I can put him off talking altogether and we can go back to that kissing stuff.
“What girl?”
“The blonde. The one from the club who had coffee with you last week.”
He sighs and stares at me, saying nothing for a little while.
I shrug. “Or we could just not talk and sit here instead. That’d work too.”
“She was someone I spent some time with, but I realized she wasn’t the right girl for me early on.”
“Was she too pretty?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“No, she’s pretty enough.”
“Too sexy? She was too sexy, huh? All that long leg action she has going on. The long hair, boobs, buns of steel. That was probably too much.” I nod and give him my least sincere smile.
“No, it’s fine if you’re into that stuff.”
I snort. “And you’re not.” I wave around at his face and chest. “You’re not into the whole boobs, legs, ass thing. You’re into … what … fatties?” I slap my hand down on the bed.
He doesn’t react at all to my obvious anger or sarcasm. “No, I’m not into fatties. I’m into you.”
I’ve already opened my mouth to respond, but now words are failing me. The best I can do is make noisy air. “Pfffft. Faaaaa. Yeaaahhhh…”
He waits for me to collect myself, but says nothing.
I can’t take the silence. “Rebel, come on. Stop messing around.”
“No one’s messing around.” He touches my fingers.
I push his hand away. “Stop. I have a concussion in case you haven’t heard. I need my rest.” I close my eyes and fake-sleep. I can’t stand looking at him anymore. He’s too pretty, he’s too serious, and he’s too … good. There. I said it. He’s too good for me. He’s an adult, he’s responsible, he’s smart, and he’s fucking getting into my head and it’s freaking me out. I’m jealous over a girl he insists means nothing, and he’s never done anything with her that I’ve seen to make me believe he’s lying. I hate how I’m feeling right now.
“Quin wants to see you,” he says, no emotion in his voice. “I’ll send her in.”
He stands to leave, and I have to use every ounce of control I have not to beg him to stay. I wait until I know he’s gone before I open my eyes again.
