He swings his leg over his bike so he can go home to host his online book club. Normally I’d be in any book club that Finn started but this one is focused around an incredibly long and involved sci-fi book series that I never got into. Once a month, he connects live with fellow series lovers from around the world to discuss their shared fanaticism.
“Have fun,” I call out as he rides away. I feel a little melancholy as he waves and disappears around a corner. I’m so at ease when I’m with Finn, as if I have a solid foundation to stand on. But he obviously has more anxiety under the surface than he lets on. I hope I provide him with the same feeling of support he gives me.
I check my phone for messages and then toss my purse into the basket on the front of my cruiser and head in the opposite direction from Finn. I’ve decided to go to the homeless shelter to see if I can gather more information.
To my surprise, Jimmy is inside the shelter having a meal. I wave to Sarah, the director, as I walk over to Jimmy’s table. “Hey, Declan,” he says with a smile and a wave of his fork as he continues eating.
“Hi, Jimmy,” I say as I sit down across from him. “It’s good to see you here. Hey, can I ask you a question?”
He nods while he’s chewing and I press on. “Have you noticed some new people in San Mar recently who are causing trouble? In the beach flats?”
He stops mid-bite as he’s raising another forkful of chili to his mouth and his face darkens. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“C’mon, Jimmy, it’s me. I’m just trying to write an article for my high school newspaper—it’s harmless. What’s been going on? Is it a gang?”
“It’s not harmless. People I know got hurt. You need to stay out of it,” he scolds.
“Why?”
He puts his fork down and looks me in the eyes. “Because you’re a nice kid. That’s why. You don’t need to get wrapped up in that. Stay away from there, you hear me?”
The urgency in his voice surprises me. Jimmy isn’t one to get riled up easily but whatever’s going on has him seriously rattled. “Okay, Jimmy. I hear you,” I say as I stand up. “I have to go talk to Sarah. I work at Jack’s on Saturday, though, so I guess I’ll see you then?”
He gives me a firm nod and continues eating.
I confirm with Sarah that it isn’t any of the “regulars” that are causing trouble, and she tells me that the new group—whoever they are—hasn’t been to the shelter. Her sense is that it’s more of a roving ring of thieves passing through and hiding amongst the homeless. She says the police have spoken with her and increased their presence to discourage any problems. She’s cautious but she feels that it’s being handled well and eventually the trouble will move on.
The sun is still out when I leave and I decide to ride along the cliffs on my way home. It’s a little out of the way, but the trail along the ocean is wide and paved so I don’t have to worry about cars or traffic lights and I can enjoy the view. I may even take a look at the beach flats to see if anything stands out for my story—but only from a distance. Jimmy’s warning and the chief’s mention of violence resonated with me.
As I pedal along Seacliff Drive, a strong breeze off the ocean whips my hair across my eyes so I stop for a second to corral it into a ponytail. I also dig out a cardigan from my backpack and put it on over my tank top. I pause to take in the view of the water and the boats in the harbor in the distance. I love living by the ocean. I love the endless blue immensity of it, the soft, repeating crash of the waves, and the rough scrunch of sand under my bare feet. What I would gladly live without, however, is the fog that creeps in most nights and leaves a gray shroud over the town until it burns away the next day—sometimes not until noon. But over the years I’ve made peace with it by appreciating the slow and quiet quality the mist ushers in as it gradually swallows everything in its path.
I ignore the turnoff to my house and keep going all the way to the San Mar Beach Boardwalk. The Big Dipper rollercoaster looms large in the sky as I approach. The seaside park looks promising but also slightly spooky with deserted rides and wisps of fog beginning to circle. At this time of year it’s open only on limited days.
I look toward the beach flats in the distance as I turn around and cross over the railroad tracks. All summer long, the tracks bring hordes of tourists in open-air train cars to the boardwalk from Redwood Park in the mountains on the “Trees to the Seas” run. My tire wedges into the groove of one of the tracks when I’m not paying attention and I nearly crash as it sticks. I jerk the handlebars to try to wrench it out of the narrow rut and I manage to recover but the bike lurches to the side and my purse flops out of the basket and onto the ground. I stop and bend over to retrieve it and that’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I slowly raise my head to see three men towering over me. The oldest, clearly the leader, looks about my age. His voice is slow and precise, like a spider creeping up my spine.
“What have we here?”
I take in his laser-cut features and nearly black pools for eyes. His hair is dark and he’s dressed all in black, making his white teeth stand out with striking singularity. His impeccable grooming stands in direct opposition to the neglect shown by his two associates. They’re garbed in grubby jeans and long-sleeved flannels over stained t-shirts and I get the impression the grime on their bodies is in layers.
“You want some help?” says the sweaty one on the left. The other one laughs.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say loudly. I attempt to sound confident but I don’t think I’m pulling it off.
“Nice basket,” says the leader as he nudges my basket with the tip of his boot. The other two laugh. “You’re not in a hurry are you?”
I slide my hand into my purse, feeling for my phone so I can try to dial 911. My mind is racing. I know the police are patrolling the area regularly according to the chief. Maybe I can buy some time until they drive through.
“I was just leaving,” I say as I place my foot on the pedal of my bike. “I have plans and my friends will be here any minute.” I stare at the leader with what I hope is don’t-mess-with-me grit. As our eyes meet, however, he appears jolted with surprise. That’s weird. Does he think he knows me? I’m certain I don’t know him—I could never forget those black eyes.
Whatever the cause of his reaction, it makes him more determined. He places his boot firmly against my bike tire. “How about delaying those plans? Just so we can talk awhile.” Then, without moving his eyes from mine, he adds, “Gentlemen, why don’t you relieve this young lady of her bike so she can walk with me … unencumbered.”
Before I can react, a car horn honks urgently and we all turn toward the sound. A familiar wood-paneled Jeep Wagoneer speeds in our direction and comes to a hard stop beside us on the road. Alexander steps out—practically while the car is still in motion—and walks over to me briskly. My eyes are wide with a mixture of intense relief but mostly disbelief. He’s my knight in shining armor, again? Where did he come from?
“Ready to go, Declan?” Alexander asks. “I’ll take that,” he says as he grasps the handlebars of my bike away from one of the sidekicks. He puts his other arm around me, protectively. “Why don’t you go get in the car and I’ll be there in a tick.”
Before I can move, the leader nods at him and says, “Alexander.”
Alexander acknowledges him soberly, “Avestan.”
My mouth drops open. They know each other?
“I should have known she’d be with you,” Avestan says.
“She’s not with me,” replies Alexander. “You know better than that.”
Is he insulting me?
“It’s interesting that you feel the need to emphasize that point,” says Avestan.
Alexander ignores his remark. “There’s nothing for you here,” he says.
“I most disrespectfully disagree,” replies Avestan. “San Mar has been very welcoming. Look around. I’m sure you’ve seen what’s happening. Go ahead and leave with …
Declan.” He rolls my name around on his tongue as if it’s a delicacy he hasn’t bitten down on yet. “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. Both of you.”
With his right arm around my waist and his left arm holding my bike aloft by the frame, Alexander walks me to the Jeep. He opens the passenger door and waits for me to be seated before he walks around to the back and throws my bike and backpack in. I feel Avestan staring at us the entire time with an intensity that makes me shake. Or maybe it’s just the adrenaline. Being near Alexander usually calms me, but I’m feeling unmoored because when he gets in the car he looks angry as he steps on the gas and pulls out onto the road.
We gain some distance before I say a word. I’m so bewildered that I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You know that guy?”
“Yes,” Alexander answers, his mouth set in a firm line.
“How?”
He doesn’t answer.
I try a different approach. “How did you know where I was?”
There’s a long stretch of silence and then, instead of answering, he turns to me in a sudden outburst. “What were you doing down there, Declan? Are you crazy or just a fool? Because those are the only two explanations for riding around the beach flats on a bike, by yourself, at dusk.”
I’m taken aback. He’s yelling at me? I’m the one who was almost robbed or God knows what. Shouldn’t he be comforting me right now? My legs are shaking visibly and I see Alexander look over and notice for the first time.
“Oh Declan, I’m sorry. What am I doing?” He reaches over to put his hand on my arm as he slows the car and turns at the next light into a small strip mall. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I say softly as he parks and shuts off the ignition.
He pivots in his seat to face me and takes my hands in both of his. I’m still shaking uncontrollably. “Breathe slowly,” he says and a flood of soothing stillness washes over me. I look into Alexander’s eyes and I feel completely safe as the remaining adrenaline slowly drains away. In its place is that familiar electricity where his hands are touching mine.
“Better?” he asks after a few minutes.
I nod and he gently pulls his hands away.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asks.
“You always make me feel so calm.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not me. You’re doing it yourself by focusing on your breathing.”
I search his eyes for a long beat. I don’t believe him but I’ll let it go for now. “I’m not crazy by the way. Or a fool,” I say softly. “The sun was out and I rode to the boardwalk and my tire got stuck in the train tracks. I wasn’t ‘riding around the beach flats.’ I was over a mile away … I’m not dumb.”
Alexander sighs before he answers. “One thing I would never call you is dumb.”
I look up to meet his eyes. “As happy as I was to see you, I want you to know that I think I could have taken care of myself if you hadn’t shown up. My mom and I took a self-defense class, and I’m a fast runner.”
Alexander’s expression is a mixture of surprise and profound skepticism. He chooses to comment, however, only on the first part of my statement. “You were happy to see me?”
The look in his eyes makes me laugh. “I was relieved to see you.”
“You said happy. No take-backs.”
The way his eyes light up as I laugh makes me almost forget what we were arguing about. It’s so confusing being around him. One moment he’s ignoring me at school and now he’s joking with me after coming to my rescue. As I try to sort it all out in my mind, his expression shifts again.
“Listen,” he says, “I don’t think I need to tell you that those guys back there—the ones you’re saying ‘you could have handled on your own’—are dangerous. You, especially, need to be careful.”
“Why me especially?”
He shakes his head. “Just promise me you won’t go back and you’ll stay away from Avestan.”
“How do you know him?”
“It doesn’t matter. Please just trust me on how dangerous he is to be around ...” he looks down as if he’s wrestling with how much more to say, “… and how dangerous I am to be around, too. You should stay away from both of us.”
Us? He’s lumping himself in with Avestan?
“Why would I need to stay away from you? That makes no sense.”
He stares at me solemnly but doesn’t answer.
“Are you joking?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“But you helped me. Why would you be dangerous?”
“I shouldn’t be here with you.”
I search his eyes for a long time, contemplating what he could possibly mean. Only one thing comes to mind. “Are you a stalker?”
His response is wide eyes and bewilderment. A multitude of expressions pass over his face so quickly it looks as if every muscle is twitching in turn before he bursts out laughing.
“What? It’s not that crazy of a thought, you know.” I try to sound offended but his laugh is infectious.
“I promise you I am not a stalker,” he says, sounding relieved that I broke the tension between us.
“Well how else would you know where I was and that I needed help … twice?” I feel foolish, but it’s true. How come he keeps turning up at the right time?
“It’s a small town. We travel the same routes. I swear to you I’m not stalking you. Stalking is serious … and disturbed.”
“Well then why are you dangerous? That’s a frightening word to throw around.”
His expression changes and he backpedals, but only slightly. “Look, I would never harm you purposefully. I can’t explain why but it’s better if you stay away from me.”
“But I don’t want to stay away from you,” I blurt out without thinking, without filtering.
There’s a long moment of silence and the air between us is charged with anticipation as I wait, nervously, for his response. His eyes meet mine but then he looks away and his face hardens. “I should take you home now.”
I turn to stare out the passenger window so he can’t see the stinging hurt on my face. “I can ride my bike from here,” I say as I lean down to reach for my purse on the floor. I mistakenly grab it near the bottom and as I lift it onto my lap the contents spill everywhere. Great. Can anything else possibly go wrong? All I want is to get out of this stupid car so I can continue feeling mortified in private.
Alexander leans over to help retrieve the items and as I bend forward to do the same he lifts his head suddenly and my nose smashes into the back of his skull. Hard.
“Ow!” I cry. The pain is blinding.
“Are you okay?” he says, full of concern.
“I don’t know,” I mumble. My eyes are watering and I’m holding my nose. “Are you?”
His expression changes to horror as I pull my hand away. “Cripes, Declan, you’re bleeding like crazy. I gave you a bloody nose. I’m so sorry.”
I feel the blood flowing and I tilt my head back instinctively and pinch my nose. “I’m the one who smashed into you,” I try to say but the blood starts to run into my mouth so I stop and clamp it shut.
Alexander is frantically searching the car for something to help stem the flow but he comes up empty. “Use my shirt,” he says finally as he reaches behind his neck and pulls it off over his head.
The ridiculousness of the situation strikes me suddenly: all I wanted was to get away and nurse my humiliation in private and now I’m stuck here in his car, bleeding down my face, with Alexander sitting next to me half naked. A laugh erupts from my chest. It begins as a slight giggle and builds into convulsions that shake my body the more I try to repress it. I can’t stop and it’s not helping the bleeding any.
“What?” Alexander is holding his shirt out but as I lower my eyes to look at him he can’t help but laugh in return. “What?”
“I don’t know,” I say, still laughing. “Look at me.” I wave my free hand to point to my face. Te
ars of laughter are running down my cheeks and my nose is still bleeding like a hose. “I can’t use your shirt for this. I’ll ruin it.”
“Are you kidding? Who cares about my shirt? You need it. Trust me. You look like Redbeard the Pirate.”
I laugh harder and feign offense but finally concede and grab the shirt out of his hand. I ball it up and hold it against my nose. Alexander smiles as I peer over at him, my head tilted back. After a few minutes the bleeding slows and the next time I pull the shirt away to check, it blessedly seems to have stopped.
“Does it look better?” I ask.
“Uh, yes … if by better you mean that it isn’t actively gushing blood anymore.”
“I guess you are dangerous,” I say.
“I tried to warn you,” he replies with his lopsided smile.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of the space between us in the car again. I rub his shirt under my nose and across my chin to wipe the blood away and I run my fingers under my eyes to remove any remaining trails of tears from my laughing fit. I hope I’m presentable.
“How do I look now?”
He tries to suppress his laughter.
“Is it really that bad?
“Well, your face is still covered in blood from the nose down, and now you’ve smeared blood under your eyes as well. If a copper came by right now, you’d be rushed to hospital and I’d be arrested.”
I smile and we both burst out laughing.
“Guess I’ll have some explaining to do to my mom when I get home.”
“Oh no you don’t … are you crazy? I can’t drop you off at home like this.” He looks around the strip mall. “I’ll get something to clean you up properly.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt,” I remind him.
“Oh, right,” he says, looking down. “I might have a jacket in back.”
He leans over close as he reaches into the back seat to feel around for his jacket. He smells so good, like a mixture of fresh soap and the outdoors. I close my eyes and inhale, trying not to notice his bare skin so close to mine. Too soon, he finds what he’s looking for and leans back with a gray hoodie. “I’ll be back in a tick,” he says as he puts it on.
Guardian (The Guardian Series Book 1) Page 5
