by Tina Folsom
Scott jumped back on his bike and headed back to the house, where he’d instructed Phoebe to wait for him, something she’d done reluctantly, probably suspecting that he would ditch her again. It was his plan, though this time he was going to actually say goodbye instead of disappearing without a word.
But sometimes not even he could plan for everything. Fate had a way of intervening.
The moment Scott pulled into the backyard once more and switched off the engine, his vision blurred.
“Shit, not now!” he cursed, but there was nothing he could do.
He’d never been able to stop a premonition from coming over him. His father had told him not to try. “It’s impossible, Scott. Just accept it. It’s part of who you are. There’s no fighting it.”
He managed to get off the bike before the full brunt of the vision hit him and forced him to his knees.
He didn’t know whose hands wrapped around the graceful neck and squeezed. But he knew the woman: Phoebe. Her face turned red as she struggled for air, and her fingernails clawed at the large hands choking the life out of her.
“Scott! Scott!”
But her lips didn’t move, couldn’t have produced the words that now drifted to his ears. He fought to push the vision back, but the pictures kept coming, the horror of it chilling him to the bone.
~ ~ ~
Shocked, Phoebe rushed to Scott. She’d heard the motorcycle return and had watched him from the kitchen window. She’d seen him stumble and fall to his knees. Was he hurt? Had whoever was after him gotten to him while he’d tried to cover his tracks, as he’d put it?
“Scott!”
She grabbed him by the shoulders and though he looked at her, he didn’t seem to see her. His eyes didn’t focus, didn’t appear to recognize her.
Frantically she scanned his body, but she saw no blood and no obvious injuries. “What’s wrong, Scott? Please talk to me.”
His body jerked, making a few uncoordinated movements. Was he having a seizure? Oh God, she had no medical training whatsoever, had no idea what to do. She was helpless in a situation like this. All she could do was hold on to his shoulders and make sure he didn’t fall and hit his head on something.
“Phoebe.” All of a sudden Scott stared right into her eyes. “Phoebe.”
Then he pulled her to him so violently she nearly toppled over. He hugged her close to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
“What happened?” Phoebe asked, relieved that he seemed to be better.
Slowly he released her. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
But his voice called him a liar. He wasn’t fine. She could see that. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine.” He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. “It’s nothing.”
“But you were having a seizure,” she protested. “Do you need medicine?”
“No. Don’t concern yourself with it. You can’t catch it.”
Her concerns hadn’t even gone in that direction. “You didn’t look fine.”
“Trust me, I am.” He cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss on her lips. “Now let’s go. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“We?” Had Scott really said we? “You’re not sending me back to Chicago?” She’d been sure he’d intended to do just that when he’d told her they would talk once he got back from ditching the GPS tracker.
Scott shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll be safe there right now. They probably know who you are, and they may use you to get to me.”
“But I don’t know anything.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’ll try to hurt you in the hope that I’ll come back to help you.”
“But why would you do that?”
Tenderly he caressed her cheek. “Because I’m the reason you’re in danger in the first place.” Their eyes met. “And because I like you.”
His confession was unexpected but no less welcome. But she couldn’t let it influence her now. He was a smooth talker, and his kisses had a way of softening her up. That much she knew. But everything else about him still lay in the dark. What if he was a hardened criminal and she was becoming his accomplice by going with him? She didn’t want to turn into Bonnie from Bonnie and Clyde.
She swallowed hard. “Are you a wanted man?”
“By the police, you mean?”
Phoebe nodded.
Scott smiled. “I wouldn’t be worried if the police were after me. But I’m afraid the people who want to kill me are more powerful than that. And more resourceful.”
“The mafia?”
“You watch too much bad TV. Let’s get going.” He grabbed her hand to pull her toward the house.
“Can’t you please tell me what I’m dealing with here?”
He stopped and turned back to her. “How old are you, Phoebe?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“How old?”
“Twenty-nine, if you must know.”
“Do you want to turn thirty?”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “What kind of question is that?”
He looked at her intently. “If you want to live, Phoebe, you need to come with me. Otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety. I promise that as long as you do as I say, you’ll be safe.”
The sincerity of his words hit her. Scott wasn’t joking, nor was he bragging. He was merely stating a fact. And to her surprise, she believed every single word he was saying. For the first time in her life her reporter brain, which wanted an explanation for everything, stilled and accepted a statement without asking for proof.
Either Scott was telling the truth, or he was the best liar the world had ever seen and she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. One that could cost her her life if she was wrong about him.
“Do you trust me?”
Phoebe met his eyes. “Yes.”
Scott squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she followed him into the house to collect her things.
15
Scott had driven her car into a small lake, and Phoebe had watched it sink. At that moment the finality of her decisions had hit her like a freight train. But she couldn’t turn back now. She had no cell phone, no car, and an unknown perpetrator on her heels. If she didn’t go with Scott now, there was no telling what would happen to her.
Once this whole thing had unraveled, maybe she would be able to publish the story about her adventure and thus save her job. If she came back with something juicy like a chase around the country, Eriksson and Novak would maybe even forgive her for having disappeared without a word. For now, she would take things as they came and hope for the best.
“Ready?”
Phoebe met Scott’s inquiring gaze and hopped onto the motorcycle behind him. He handed her the helmet and she put it on. On the way to the lake, he’d stopped at a biker bar and stolen a second helmet off another motorcycle, and he now slipped the stolen helmet over his head.
“Hold on tight,” he commanded. “Move with me when I go into curves, all right?”
“Okay.”
She slung her arms around his waist. He put his hand over one arm and squeezed. Then he turned the ignition key and pressed the starter button before lifting the kickstand and driving off into the night.
She’d never been on a motorcycle, but she had to admit she liked the feeling of freedom it inspired in her. Though Scott drove fast, he took every curve with skill and confidence and soon she found herself clinging to him not with the death grip she’d employed at the start of the trip, but with a more relaxed hold. He seemed to notice it too, because on occasion he would remove one hand from the handlebar and briefly squeeze her hand as if wanting to thank her for adhering to his instructions.
During the long drive she also became more aware of Scott’s body. Her legs were pressed against his outer thighs, and she could feel his muscles flex underneath his pants. She wasn’t sure how long they’d ridden, but on the horizon the sun was about to come up, and only now did she realize how tired she was. She’d ne
ver been much of a night owl.
When Scott slowed after entering Memphis city limits, she tensed automatically. He turned his head halfway and opened his visor.
“I’m trying to find us a place to stay,” he announced.
“Another house for sale?”
“No, I think I have a better idea.” He motioned to a van driving in front of them.
She read the writing on the back. The van was an airport shuttle. “You want to go to an airport?”
He didn’t answer and closed his visor again, while he cruised behind the van. When it turned into a driveway and stopped there, Scott continued driving. He stopped at the next intersection, took a left turn and stopped the motorcycle, but kept the engine running, his feet on the ground.
“What are we doing?”
He put his hand on her thigh. “Patience.”
She followed his gaze as he looked to the left, back to where they’d come from. It took only a few minutes before the airport shuttle left the driveway, several passengers sitting in it now.
“Perfect,” he said and turned the motorcycle around.
When the van disappeared in the distance, he put the bike back into gear and drove to the house from which the van had picked up the passengers.
She opened her visor. “Are you sure the house is empty?”
He turned his head halfway. “Two adults leaving with two teenagers. High probability it’s vacant.”
He pulled into the driveway, still under cover of darkness, though in a few minutes it would be light enough for the neighbors to see the motorcycle.
Scott pointed to a tall wooden gate next to the garage. “Open it.”
Phoebe jumped off the motorcycle and walked to it. She reached over it, finding the latch on the inside and releasing it. In the meantime, Scott had turned off the engine and was pushing his Ducati toward her. She stepped aside and let him pass. When he and the bike were inside, she entered behind him and closed the gate again.
Scott parked the motorcycle next to the trashcans and motioned her to follow him.
As they walked into the backyard, Phoebe noticed the high wooden fence that surrounded the property and the high bushes and mature trees lining the perimeter. An alley ran along one side of the large lot. A wooden deck was attached to the back of the house. There was a barbeque, a table and chairs.
Scott walked ahead. She watched him take in his surroundings, though she suspected he saw more than she did. For the first time she now noticed how alert he was, how his eyes scanned the area outside the house with purpose and efficiency. As if he’d done this many times before. Like a professional. But what kind of professional?
He seemed to like what he saw, while she was still nervous, expecting at any moment a door to open and a grandparent or house sitter to appear from within the house. While she cast nervous looks over her shoulder, Scott approached the door leading from the house onto the deck and tested it. It was locked, which Phoebe had expected.
He pulled something from the inside of his jacket pocket and went to work on the lock, but his broad back blocked her view and she couldn’t see what he was doing. By the time she’d crossed the deck and reached him, he was already pushing the door open. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the house. Phoebe followed him gingerly and looked around.
Scott took his helmet off and placed it on the clean kitchen counter. “You can take your helmet off now.”
She removed the motorcycle helmet and shook her hair out, combing through it with her fingers. It felt sticky from the long ride. In fact, her entire body felt sticky.
“Stay here. I’ll take a look around,” Scott said. “Don’t turn on any lights, and stay away from the windows.”
Phoebe watched him leave the room and barely heard his footsteps as he walked into the hallway. She remained quiet, still fearful they weren’t alone in the house. Meanwhile she let her gaze wander around the kitchen. Her look fell onto the large refrigerator. She approached and opened it.
It was practically bare, cleaned out of all perishable items such as milk or eggs. Only condiments and other longer lasting items were still inside. And water. She took a bottle and twisted its lid.
She drank a big gulp and instantly felt better.
“May I have some of that?”
Scott’s voice behind her made her whirl around, her heart beating like a jackhammer. She hadn’t heard him come back.
He reached for the bottle in her hand. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Ingrained habit.” He shrugged apologetically and set the bottle to his lips, gulping down half of it before handing it back to her. “Thanks.”
“Is it safe here?”
He nodded. “We can rest here for a day or two.”
“And then?”
“I’ll figure something out.” He must have noticed her worried look, because he stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “If you want to get cleaned up, there’s a large master bath upstairs. Back of the house. I’ve drawn the shades everywhere. I’ll check to see if I can find us some food in the meantime.”
Phoebe pointed to the refrigerator. “Fridge is empty.”
“There’s a freezer, and if they are like every American family, they’ll probably have another one out in the garage. I’ll fix us something and then we’ll need to sleep.”
Phoebe nodded gratefully. Sleep was what she needed. And a shower. And food. Though she had no idea in which order. She walked out of the kitchen and took the back stairs leading to the second floor. To her surprise the house had two staircases, one in the front and one in the back. The house looked well maintained and comfortable. The thick carpet under her feet swallowed the sound of her footsteps when she walked along the upstairs corridor in search of the master bedroom. Double doors led into it. A massive king-sized bed dominated the room which had French doors leading to a balcony overlooking the backyard. Closets lined the walkway that led into the bathroom.
The shower was equipped with dual showerheads, a luxury she’d never enjoyed before. But what drew her attention was the large soaking tub. Yes, that was exactly what she needed now. A long soak in the tub to soothe her aching muscles which weren’t accustomed to riding on a motorcycle for hours without a break.
Luckily the woman living in this home liked her baths too, if the variety of the various bath foams and salts was anything to go by. Phoebe picked a lavender-scented bath foam and filled the oversized tub with hot water while she undressed.
Minutes later, she sank into the heavenly liquid and closed her eyes. Time to relax and to think. So many questions swarmed in her head. She didn’t even know where to start. She would have to make a mental list. And on the top of her list was the most important question: who was Scott?
Other questions followed easily from there: who was he running from and why? Had he committed a heinous crime? Why had he saved the children and her? As the memory of the train collision surfaced again, she recalled the news report from Debbie Finch from WYAT News. She’d mentioned another, similar incident where a motorcyclist had saved the victim of a collision and had then disappeared before being identified. Had Scott anything to do with that? She shook her head. Impossible. It would be too much of a coincidence. After all, the odds of somebody happening upon an impending disaster like that and arriving in time to prevent it were huge. The odds of the same thing happening to the same person twice were astronomical.
Only somebody knowing of events like these in advance would be able to achieve this impossible feat. And she didn’t believe that Scott had anything to do with the bus driver or the cab driver from the incident two years earlier. No, it had to be a coincidence. A very lucky coincidence.
Phoebe sighed and dipped the back of her head into the water, wetting her hair before sitting up again, her eyes still closed. She’d only switched on the light over the sink which bathed the room in an orange glow.
“You look comfortable. May I join you?”
Phoebe gasped and jerked up. Water sloshed over the side of th
e tub. She found Scott standing at the door, looking at her, his eyes unreadable.
“You have to stop sneaking up on me like that,” she admonished.
“Apologies,” he said and stepped into the room.
She ran her eyes over him. He’d taken off his leather jacket and boots, but was still wearing his black T-shirt and pants. Involuntarily she licked her lips and felt her nipples pebble. Suddenly she was fully aware of the fact that she was sitting up in the bathtub and the foam wasn’t covering her breasts anymore.
“I take that as a yes.”
Her throat dry now, Phoebe watched him undress. First he pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the clothes hamper. Then he opened the button of his pants and pulled down the zipper.
Slowly she sank back into the water, her breasts now beneath the foam again. When Scott stepped out of his pants, her eyes zeroed in on his boxer briefs. The fabric stretched tightly over his groin. The moment his thumbs hooked underneath the waistband, she dropped her lids and looked away. God, she was ogling him like a star-struck teenager! It was positively shameless. Hadn’t she cursed herself only yesterday morning for being so naïve and falling for his seduction? And now she was about to do the same: succumb to his sex appeal when what she should be doing was asking him questions.
“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly shy,” Scott said and stepped into the tub.
When he remained standing, she looked up to him and stared right at his cock. It hung there, long and heavy, but relaxed.
“Are you gonna stand there forever?” she asked instead of an answer.
“May I get behind you?”
Phoebe scooted forward and he stepped around her to slide into the tub, sitting down behind her, his legs in a vee, his arms immediately pulling her against his chest. One hand slid to her stomach, resting there. The other lay across her breasts, though he was making no attempt to caress them.
