“I need to talk to you,” he said urgently. Chase released me and I climbed into my car, slamming the door. Instinctively, I knew that he’d be following me to my apartment. I was still angry with him and knew that I’d kick him out if he tried to stay, but I was honestly glad for the extra tidbit of protection.
The drive home from Dawning Center seemed to take much longer than usual. I was exhausted from my nerve-wracking day, and I had no idea what else Chase could possibly have to say to me. Heroin, murder, gangs? What more to criminal life was there than that?
I clutched my steering wheel with white knuckles and tried to concentrate on the road. The beams from Chase’s headlights were practically blinding me in the rearview mirror and I squinted, already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. When we pulled into my apartment complex, Chase squeezed his car into the miniscule space behind mine. He followed me upstairs at a discreet pace. I was dying to grab him by the jacket and scream in his face for lying to me and for getting me involved in this, but I was too tired. Right now, I just wanted it all to be over.
“So what did you have to tell me?” I flopped down on my couch and shaded my eyes with my hands, exhausted.
“You still need protection,” Chase said gruffly.
My hands fell into my lap and I stared dully at Chase. “You’re not going to stay here again,” I said in a tired voice. “I won’t let you. I’ll call the police if I have to.”
Chase gave me a long look before settling down on the carpet and splaying his legs. He took up most of the free space on the floor. As usual, whenever I was in the same room, I couldn’t stop looking at his giant, hulking frame. He was as big as a tree.
“Do you understand?” My words hung sharply in the air. “I told you, you’re not staying here again.”
Chase gave me a long look. “Lacey, I’m sorry about all of this,” he growled in a soft voice. “It wasn’t my idea to get you involved in this. But you’re going to have to listen to me, and to trust me, until this is all over.”
I felt anger boiling in my stomach. “I’m going to have to trust you?” It came out as a squeak. “What the fuck does that even mean? You’ve done nothing but lie to me this entire time! And even if you hadn’t, Chase, this is too much. I couldn’t be involved with someone who was addicted to heroin, for chrissakes! You are an ex-felon!”
Chase looked at me dully. He didn’t say anything. The anger was swirling around in my body, and I bit my lower lip.
“Come on,” I demanded. “What else is there?”
Chase glanced at the floor. “I need to go find the bad guy,” he said slowly. “Away from here, away from you.”
I nodded. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve ever said to me,” I blurted out. “I mean ever,” I added for emphasis, nodding my head.
Chase rolled his eyes. “Still got your sense of humor, I see,” he grumbled. “So I’m going to have to hide someplace, with a friend of mine. He’s trustworthy.”
I frowned. That idea sounded even less appealing than Chase forcing his way back into my apartment. “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “I don’t want to have to leave my home. Why can’t I stay with my friend Jackie?”
Chase snarled at me. “Because if the killer knows where you are, your friend Jackie isn’t going to be able to save you,” he growled. “Don’t you realize that, silly girl?”
I blushed. “Don’t be an ass,” I muttered. “This whole thing is freaking me out.”
Chase nodded. “As well it should,” he replied. “I’m glad you finally listened to me.”
“What the hell, Chase? How can you even say that? I bullied the truth out of you!”
Chase stood up and stretched, grazing the ceiling with his big knuckles. He seemed not to have heard me, or not to have cared. Looking around the room, he balled one hand into a fist and punched his other palm with it. His gaze settled on me, and I felt the same blend of anger and desire that I always felt when Chase stared at me for too long.
“Pack your things,” he said finally. “We’re getting you out of here.”
Chapter Twenty One
Chase responded to my weak protests by grabbing my wrist and dragging me in the bedroom. I looked at him warily; the last time we’d been this close to my bed, we’d wound up having sex. But sex seemed to be the farthest thing from Chase’s mind. I felt numb as I directed him to my closet and asked him to pull down the suitcase because it was too high for me to reach. I felt even number as it popped open on the floor, empty, but soon to be filled.
“How long should I pack for?”
Chase rolled his eyes. “You women and your clothes,” he grunted. “What, do you think this is a vacation?”
I glared at him. “You know what I mean, asshole.”
“Fine, fine, relax, Princess Lacey,” Chase said. He held up his hands as though he’d been kidding. “Pack for a couple of weeks. I hope it won’t take that long, but I don’t know.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes. “A couple of weeks?” I repeated dumbly. Chase nodded.
“Come on,” he said. “We don’t have all day. Hurry up.”
My legs felt like jelly but I forced myself to move as quickly as I could. I didn’t have a lot of clean clothes, so I hoped that four pairs of jeans, a couple of dresses, and a few shirts would do the job. I packed as many pairs of clean panties as I had. Touching them in front of Chase made me blush. I turned around with a pile of underwear in my hands and Chase smirked at me.
“You and your little panties,” he muttered. I blushed redder than ever and dropped them in the open case.
“Shut up,” I mumbled, still blushing. Being in my bedroom almost seemed to make Chase more uncomfortable than it made me, and I was almost enjoying seeing him squirm. Finally, I stuffed in some textbooks, a phone charger, and my bathroom stuff.
“I still have to get my laptop,” I explained. “And then I should be done.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, princess.”
With a deep sigh, I dragged my suitcase to the door and took a long look around my bedroom. Suddenly, my heart felt like it was going to pierce with an arrow. Even though I didn’t love my apartment, it was mine, and I was suddenly scared that I’d never see it again. I blinked back tears thinking of all the fun times I’d had in here with Jackie. And with Chase, I thought, blushing again.
Chase waited patiently as I stuffed my laptop in the suitcase pocket and grabbed an extra pair of shoes. He led me outside and tossed my suitcase in the trunk of his car with one hand. I hunkered down in the passenger seat next to him.
“Is my apartment safe?”
Chase chuckled low in his throat. “Whatever you think that means, sure,” he said casually. “I wouldn’t come back here without me or my friend, though.”
“I won’t,” I said, almost offended. I still couldn’t get past feeling a little hurt that he’d thrown me away like that. “Am I going to be able to come back at some point?”
Chase looked at me with his jaw set. I could see a muscle twitching in anger. “I dunno,” he said simply. “I hope so, but I can’t make any promises. These guys are in some bad shit, Lacey.”
“I see,” I said quietly. A whole new wave of tears came over me; I thought for sure that even if he didn’t know, he’d at least lie about whether or not I’d be able to come home. The thought made me enormously sad.
We drove out of downtown Detroit and into the suburbs. I thought things would be quieter and nicer, but instead they just looked even more dingy. We passed through what felt like endless abandoned strip malls and shopping centers, decaying with age and grime. There were no functioning cars, and as we slowed to a stoplight, Chase clicked the locks down on both of our doors.
After driving for over an hour, Chase slowed to a halt. We were in front of a shopping center. Most of the stores had gunshots in the window glass, and it looked like they had been abandoned for a long time. There was one functional storefront—a Chinese food place with a doo
r on the side of the building.
Chase pointed his finger at the Chinese food place. “That’s where we’re going,” he told me. “I’ll carry your stuff.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Chase, what the fuck is this? Where are we?” My voice grew to high-pitched whine. “I’m not staying here! This looks so dangerous!”
Chase shook his head dismissively. “I know it looks like shit,” he said placidly. “But it’s fine, honestly. You’re going to be much safer here than you would be at home.”
My stomach churned as we got out of the car. The parking lot smelled like greasy fast food, and there were some homeless people curled up on the jagged sidewalk in front of a storefront that had once been a bodega. Tendrils of anxiety shot through my body and curled up in my lower belly.
Sensing my hesitation, Chase came close and wrapped an arm around me. I knew he was just guiding me closer to where we were going, but the physical contact felt good. I snuggled into his side as he pulled me close, inhaling deeply his scent of tobacco and spice. Chase guided me over to the side of the building. He waved at the workers in the Chinese restaurant as we passed and a couple of them waved back to him enthusiastically. He knocked on the side door three times and then stepped back, pushing me behind him. I almost cursed him for making me stumble until I realized he was doing it to protect me. Deep down, some of the ice around my heart began to melt.
“Yo, what’s up, my man!” A huge black guy came out of the building. He was even taller than Chase, with thick dreadlocks that reached the small of his back. He was wearing a black tank top and black army trousers. He grinned at Chase and nodded his head up at me. “Is this that hot little snatch?”
“Fuck off,” Chase muttered. His eyes flashed with anger and I felt a small burst of admiration run through me. “This is Lacey. She’ll be staying here for a few days. I’ll be back to check on her occasionally. Don’t let her get hurt. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
I swallowed nervously as the black guy looked me over from head to toe. He stuck out a hand and I took it nervously; his palm was almost as big as my whole hand. When we shook hands, the veins in his neck bulged.
“I’m Peyton,” he said in a kinder voice this time. “I was just giving your bud here some shit. Don’t worry about me, baby,” he added with a grin. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Chase clapped me on the shoulder and pushed me forward. He handed my suitcase and my bags to Peyton and nodded his head at me once before turning around and walking back to the car.
“Chase!” I called, feeling panicked that he was about to leave. “Please don’t leave me here,” I begged. “Please, I don’t want to be here.”
Chase scowled at me. I watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed me a wad of bills comprised of twenties and fifties. Too afraid to count them in public, I stuffed the cash in my back pocket.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said, sounding tired. “I’ll be back to check on you soon. Peyton’s a good guy. He’ll leave you alone.”
I nodded and swallowed again. The lump in my throat got bigger and bigger as I watched Chase lope back towards his car, get in, and drive away.
“Well, what’re you standin’ there for?” Peyton asked. He rubbed his gigantic hands over his biceps. “Get your skinny ass inside where it’s warm!”
I followed Peyton inside the dark room. It looked to be a converted studio apartment, with some big open closets and a door that I assumed was the bathroom. There was a mattress covered in blankets in one corner of the room with a plastic nightstand beside it. The room had a funny smell that I couldn’t quite place; it seemed to be a mixture of body odor, cigarette smoke, and stale beer mixed with something moldy. My eyes itched almost instantly and I wondered if there had been a dog in the room recently.
“Do you have a dog?”
“What?” Peyton glanced up at me as if seeing me for the first time. I felt a tremor of fear run down my spine, and I fought the urge to cry.
“Do you have a dog? I have an allergy, and it feels like there’s pet hair in here.”
Peyton didn’t answer me; he just waved his arm dismissively. Whatever cheerful attitude he’d exhibited around Chase was gone, and now he was off in his own little world. I dragged my suitcase over to the corner and sat down on the bed. Plugging my phone into the charger, I texted Jackie.
Jacks, I’m staying outside the city. Call me later.
I glanced up to see if Peyton was watching, but again, he gave no indication that he knew I was in the room. I cursed the lack of privacy in the small apartment. I didn’t want to take my clothes out and have everything smell like this place, either.
Lying down on the bed, I pulled out one of my psychology textbooks and began to read. We were studying abnormal behavior, and with a slight ironic smile, I thought that it wouldn’t be the worst idea to start reading up on Chase’s personality quirks. Maybe it would give me the upper hand advantage in the future.
There was a buzzing sound and I looked around for my phone. When there was no notification on the screen, I turned to Peyton. He was staring at something in his hand. Suddenly, his neck snapped up and he turned to face me. I felt my skin crawl; there was something about him, something about his eyes that looked so unsettling.
“I have an assignment,” he said shortly. “You stay here. I’ll be back later.”
I nodded my head, feeling powerless. Of course I would stay here, in his shitty, smelly apartment. What the fuck else was I going to do?
“Peyton, what if Chase comes? How do I recognize him?”
Peyton shook his head from side to side. “Chase ain’t coming back today, honey,” he muttered. “Don’t you worry about that.”
I frowned. “He just told me that he’d be back, though,” I argued. “Didn’t you hear him say that?”
Peyton looked at me and grinned. He started laughing, then turned on his heels and walked out. I felt my heart clench in my chest as he slammed the door behind him and turned a key in the lock.
Chapter Twenty Two
Peyton didn’t come back the rest of the night. There was no knocking at the door, so I figured that Chase didn’t, either. The only window in the apartment looked out at the parking lot, and it was so close to the ceiling that I had to hop up and stand on the plastic nightstand to see. From what I could tell, everything was just as deserted as it had been when Chase and I pulled up. I was angry at him for leaving me in this hellhole, but at least it was quiet. Unlike being at home, I never heard gunshots or sirens. Peyton didn’t even seem to have an excess of weapons lying around.
After he’d left, I’d searched the apartment. Lightly; I hadn’t wanted to go digging. But there was no kitchen and no food, and I was starting to wonder how we were going to eat. After I found five or six empty Chinese food containers, I knew with a sinking feeling that my only nourishment was going to come from that dirty little MSG-ridden shack.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t actually a lot. I found a handgun—which I left in its place under the sink—and this weird knife thing with an animal carved into the handle. I was too afraid to pick that up, too.
I sat down with my laptop and started searching for things about Chase’s sister, Rose. I typed Rose McIntyre into Google and hit enter. At this point, I had no idea whether or not Chase had even been telling the truth about that. For all I knew, he didn’t even have a sister. He’d never mentioned his family before, and I wondered if he’d been lying to manipulate me.
The first search results that I saw were chilling. There was a headline: Local Teen Slain, Neighbors Cower in Fright. I clicked on it, and began to read.
The body of Rose McIntyre, a 17-year-old formerly of Detroit, was found by her family members yesterday evening. Both of her parents and her older brother, Chase, 19, were not in the residence at the time. Neighbors recall a black SUV parked in the driveway and odd music coming from inside of the house, but didn’t say that they felt it was anything suspicious. Rose was
all set to graduate as salutatorian from Detroit River North High School in May, and she had obtained an academic scholarship to Michigan State University. Her parents and brother could not be reached for comment.
A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I looked at Rose’s picture, in black and white, accompanying the text. She was beautiful: pale skin, long curly blonde hair, the same piercing green eyes that Chase had. In the photo, she was laughing and saying something to the cameraman. In her eyes, I saw an innocence much like my own had been at that point. That was before I’d started college, before I’d started singing, and definitely before I met Chase.
With a start, I realized the newspaper offered very little detail regarding how she died. I leaned back on the mattress and stared at Rose’s photograph until the picture was blurry. Tears came to my eyes as I imagined how frightened she must have been as she had her final moments alive.
Lucky: The Irish MC Page 34
