“Well, I think they’re finally shutting us down here,” Jake said. “Any ideas where we can move the party? How about your place, Tatiana? Wasn’t your mom going to be out all night?”
“Sure,” Tatiana said, still only half paying attention. “My place is fine.”
“Excellent!” Tammie squeaked. “I’ll rally the troops! You coming, Ed?”
“Sure,” Ed snapped defensively. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
Jake and Megan both widened their eyes, shifting their gaze from Ed to Tatiana and back to Ed. “Whatever,” Tammie said, sharing an infuriating little knowing smile with Jake.
It took every ounce of Ed’s remaining self-discipline not to scream at them both. He wanted to scream that there was no need for their stupid, knowing smiles. Because there was nothing to know. Because nothing had happened. Nothing.
No Dream
AT FIRST SHE THOUGHT IT WAS A dream. Gaia just hadn’t expected it. After all they’d been through, after she’d explained about Ed, it just seemed like they’d put it all behind them. Or at least as if they’d silently agreed to pretend they’d put it all behind them.
But now, as she lay beside him in this creepy motel room. . .
Now the palm of his warm hand had just crept up on her back. And after resting there for a moment, it had slid upward and begun to caress her shoulder. This was no dream.
She couldn’t have been asleep for that long, because all he did was touch her ever so lightly. And Sam might not have even fallen asleep for a moment. For all Gaia knew, he’d been battling in his head the entire time she’d been asleep, trying to make the right choice, trying not to let himself touch her the way he must have wanted to so badly. The way, if she was completely honest with herself, she had come awfully close to wanting to touch him, too. . .
But she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t let herself fall back into all that nostalgic confusion. No matter how strange and electric his touch made her feel, she knew in her heart that she wasn’t going to give in to it. It was wrong, and she knew it. And she’d thought that Sam knew it, too. Maybe not.
Her entire body tensed up as his hand slid up along her neck and then into the tangles of her hair. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She just didn’t want to reject him like that. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to—that he’d pull his hand away any second and just leave it at that. She’d hoped that he could understand that whether or not those feelings were still there for her, she had to ignore them now. Because of Ed. Because of the time that had passed. Because everything had changed.
But she couldn’t wish it away. He wasn’t going to stop. His other hand pressed up against her back. But this time he didn’t slide it toward her shoulders. This time his hand began to slide downward. Farther and farther down her back until. . .
“Sam, don’t,” she finally heard herself say. She had to say it. Before he’d crossed that line she’d worked so very hard to be sure they didn’t cross. His hands had left her with no choice but to speak up.
But her words didn’t seem to matter to him now. Because he didn’t stop. His hand moved even farther down. . . .
“I said stop.” Her eyes shot open, and she flipped around to say it to Sam’s face.
Only it wasn’t Sam’s face. And they weren’t Sam’s hands.
You scum. You repulsive lowlife scum of the earth.
All she needed was a glimpse of his black ski mask and she knew. Her mind had processed the entire disgusting scenario in a split second. She knew that Sam was nowhere to be found. She knew that this whole disgusting time, it had just been another one of them touching her, damn near molesting her, trying to do God knew what else to her while she slept.
She flipped out of the bed, bouncing up off the floor and facing the hulking son of a bitch down in the dark. So now they weren’t just pond scum murderers—the kind you scraped from the bottom of your shoe. Now they were wanna-be rapists, too.
Goddamn them. They weren’t done. Whoever they were, they weren’t giving up. They were still on her tail—still sending in these pathetic hired thugs to take her out, no matter where she was. There couldn’t be a moment’s peace. Not a moment.
The only light in the room came from the glare of the parking lot lampposts, beaming through the slight opening in the windows. She could just make out the hideous smile on his lips, framed by the circular mouth hole of his mask. He jumped off the bed and pulled a knife from his jacket, staring her down with dead eyes that were just as black as the mask.
The thought of his disgusting hands actually touching her body made her skin feel like burning sandpaper. But with one more moment to think before he made his move, the fact that those had not been Sam’s hands touching her raised one very simple and horrifying question: Where the hell was Sam?
No more time for questions. He lunged, and she jumped left, letting him charge into the ugly brown wall. But when she’d moved left, she hadn’t been ready for the other one. Yes, there were two of them. There were always at least two of them now. It was nice to know that whoever was out there trying to have her killed wasn’t completely underestimating her. But still, considering the mood she was now in, considering the fact that this would now be the third attempt on her life in one day, not to mention the fact that these assholes had done something with Sam. . . she wasn’t going to waste her time making this fight interesting.
These two losers in their pathetic black masks had taken the wrong assignment tonight. They simply had no idea what they had signed on for.
The second thug tried to wrap a wire around her throat from behind, but he was about as slow as they came. She jabbed her elbow deep into his solar plexus, located his wrist in almost complete darkness, and flipped him across the tiny room. The paper-thin walls of the entire room shook as his body made a deep dent in the plaster.
She turned to the one with the knife. “What did you do with Sam?” she demanded. But his only reply was another bull-like charge with his knife pointed at her chest
Forget it, she shouted at herself as the point of his knife flew toward her. Forget the questions. Just get them out. Get them the hell out of here.
Gaia quickly mastered all of her boiling frustration and channeled it into a series of deadly precise moves.
She zoomed in on the gleam of the knife in the dark and shot her leg out with a swift forward kick. The knife snapped out of the thug’s hands, and then she swung around for a roundhouse kick that bashed his face hard against the wall.
“Get out!” she barked, snapping another kick to his face and another to his back. She knew it was wrong to lead with her anger, but there was simply nothing left of her self-discipline tonight. Now it was only about what would be quickest and most effective. “I’m through with this crap today. You go and tell them that. This is your one chance to leave.”
He grabbed onto her leg and toppled her to the floor, but she countered by jabbing his back with her elbow in three spine-cracking blows.
She shot up off her shoulders, landing squarely on her feet, and trounced him with two more kicks to the back. “I’m telling you,” she growled. “You want to get out of here. Believe me. You want to get out of here now!”
The other one had risen back to his feet and decided it was his turn to attack. He lunged for her, but she simply sidestepped him, using all his momentum to send him crashing into his friend on the floor. They still apparently were not getting the picture. She would to have to be a bit more forceful with her point.
She spotted the knife across the room, took one bouncing step over the bed, and swiped it up off the floor. They stumbled up together and made another foolish attempt to rush her. This time simultaneously.
Good. She could make her point much quicker that way.
She wasn’t going to kill them. She was simply going to give them their last warning. She bent her knees slightly as they lumbered toward her, and then, with perfectly calibrated pressure, she swiped the knife across the chest of the one on the left,
shoving him quickly out of the way. Then she ducked down and swiped the knife across the leg of the other, checking him into the wall in almost the exact same spot where she had tossed him to begin with.
They both let out rather pathetic cries as they writhed around on the floor, holding tightly to their harmless flesh wounds. They could always dish it out so much better than they could take it.
“That was only the warning,” she spat, flashing the knife before each of their pained faces. “The next one will cut so much deeper. And the next one deeper than that. . . and the next one—”
There was no need to utter another word. Without either of them even exchanging glances, they simultaneously opted for the retreat. Gaia followed them out onto the walkway as they piled out the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. She stood there in front of the open doorway with the knife extended, watching as they scampered out into the parking lot and then disappeared into the darkness of the road.
Gaia stood there for another ten seconds just breathing heavily with the knife at her side. And then, finally, her thoughts turned away from violence and back to the much more important matter. Sam. What the hell had they done with Sam?
All the ugliest possibilities began to flash before her eyes, but she wouldn’t have to indulge those awful images for very long. Because Sam suddenly appeared at the end of the walkway, stepping out of the motel’s office. He saw her standing in front of the door, and he smiled at her. That was it. A smile. He smiled the most innocent, nonchalant smile she had ever seen, and then he began to walk toward her.
Gaia couldn’t believe it. It had happened again. She could see it in his face. He seemed to have no idea what had just happened. Somehow he had missed the entire battle again. Somehow, just as it had happened at the diner that afternoon, Sam had stepped out just before the violence had begun and then stepped back in just after it had ended. What on earth were the odds of that happening twice in one day. . . ?
And that was really the first time it hit her. At least it was the first time it had hit her consciously.
An ugly, ugly thought. One of the ugliest thoughts she had ever had.
What were the odds of Sam being conspicuously absent for Gaia’s attempted murder twice in one day? They were abysmal, that’s what they were. They were damn near impossible.
Unless, of course, Sam knew. Unless he knew exactly when the attempted murders would take place.
Oddly Innocent Smile
STOP IT, GAIA. SAM IS NOT THE enemy. Don’t even think of it. It’s ridiculous. You’ve got to stop that entire line of thinking right now.
But once the line of thinking had started, she had to take it to its logical conclusion. No one with any amount of intelligence could ignore it. And the longer she looked at Sam’s oddly innocent smile, the harder it was to discount.
In one lightning-quick moment the chain of unfortunate facts flashed through her head. And the longer she let the horribly paranoid theory develop, the more evidence she seemed to find to back it up.
Twice he’d disappeared right before her attacks. Twice. And what had preceded the attacks both times? That look. Sam’s nervous glimpse into the rearview mirror. Like he was checking for someone. Checking to make sure someone was following them and knew where to pull over. Someone, for instance, like a couple of contract killers.
And the car. Where had Sam mysteriously disappeared to during the attack at the diner? Gaia had seen him walking back from the parking lot. He’d said he’d gone to check on the car. But it was right after Sam’s visit to the car that it began to make that strange noise, like someone had tampered with the engine. . . .
And how convenient that the broken-down car would force them down the road to this seedy motel in the middle of the night. . . where there were probably no cops for miles. A perfect place to catch Gaia off guard, wasn’t it? Asleep and confused in a strange motel room, in bed with Sam. Wouldn’t that be when she was least prepared for another attack?
And how had those two thugs gotten into the motel room so easily, anyway? Without a noise? Without breaking a single window or a lock? Almost as if the door had been left open for them. Almost as if they’d been invited in. . .
The longer she stared at Sam’s smiling face as he walked toward her, the more it all began to make a most disturbing kind of sense. Every single little puzzle piece seemed to fit together.
He could have been slowly and professionally brainwashed during all his unbearable isolation in Loki’s compound. Loki’s people could have offered him a deal. They’d set him free if he would just agree to do them the simple favor of leading Gaia directly into their trap—leading the lamb to the slaughter.
Even the psycho loyalists at the compound could have been a setup. . . .
Think about it. Sam disappears behind a corner, and you follow him straight into a three-man firing squad?
It was like another trap. Like they’d already known she was coming before she even got there. Like every other attempt on Gaia’s life today. Sam had never made a move on them, and they’d never made a move on him.
And now here he was, walking out of that motel office. Why the hell would he have gotten out of bed right after he’d supposedly gone to sleep? And when exactly had he suddenly become best buds with that pervert in the office? What could they possibly have to discuss at this hour?
By the time Sam stepped up to her, she had completed his vilification in her head.
“Where were you this time?” she snapped, staring at Sam with unabashed accusation. “And don’t lie to me, Sam. Whatever you do, do not lie to me.”
Sam nearly fell backward with a look of utter shock. First he seemed shocked by the sheer aggression and volume of Gaia’s demands. But as his eyes dropped down to her hand, his shock tripled. He’d caught a glimpse of the large, bloody knife still gripped tightly in her fingers.
“What. . . what the hell is that? What the hell is going on?” He took a giant step into their room and flipped on the overhead light, darting his head from side to side before turning back to Gaia. “What happened?” he demanded again. “Where did you get that knife? Was there a fight? Jesus, did somebody try to hurt you?”
And suddenly Gaia was confused again. She was at a loss for words.
He stepped back up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders, probing her eyes with a desperate brand of concern. “Talk to me,” he insisted. “What happened, Gaia?”
She’d painted an entire picture of him in her head for a moment—a picture of pure, sadistic evil. A crystal clear picture of betrayal and coldhearted calculation. But nothing about the actual Sam matched that picture at all. As she stared at all the intense, heartfelt compassion in his eyes, and all that deep-rooted concern, and all that bright, hazel-colored innocence, she realized that she had simply fallen prey to a trauma-induced spasm of temporary insanity. That was all that had happened. She’d lost her mind. She was looking for someone to blame, and she’d patched together a bunch of useless coincidences and blamed the first person she’d laid eyes on. But in reality, he was the last person in the world who would ever want to hurt her or even see her get hurt.
“Gaia? Why won’t you talk to me?” he pleaded. “Are you injured? Should I call a—”
“No,” she said, finally snapping out of her insanity trance. “No, it’s. . . there was a fight. . . but I’m fine. I’m fine, Sam.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. It was her version of an apology—an apology for the batch of awful thoughts she had just stupidly indulged in. She pulled away from him and tossed the knife deep into the woods behind the motel.
“Gaia, I don’t understand,” he said. “Whose knife was that? Whose blood? Why won’t you tell me what happened? If something happened to you while I left you alone, I swear to God, I’ll. . .”
“Calm down,” she told him. “Someone is after me, but it’s not your problem.”
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Of course it’s my problem! They
’re after both of us, Gaia. That’s what this is all about. I should have been in the room with you. I shouldn’t have left you alone for a second; that was so stupid. . . .”
She could see him going down the same self-punishing road she’d been down herself a hundred times before, and with each new word out of his mouth, she regretted her ridiculous accusations more and more.
“Sam, stop it,” she insisted. “Everything’s fine now. I’m fine. We’re fine. Everyone is fine. But where were you? I still don’t understand what you were doing out of bed.”
“I was in the office,” Sam explained, coming awfully close to slapping himself upside the head. “I just. . . I felt so crappy that we couldn’t get you home. . . that your dad is still. . . out there somewhere. . . . I wanted to try to do something about the car before you woke up. . . .”
“You didn’t need to do that—”
“I know, but. . . well, now it nearly got you killed—”
“No,” Gaia insisted. “No, it didn’t. Nothing even close. Did you have any luck?”
“What?” He was clearly punishing himself again in his head.
“With the car,” she said, trying to keep his head in the right place. “Did you have any luck with the car?”
He looked down at her for a moment, and then a half smile finally appeared on his lips. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I did. The guy in the office. . . the pervert. . .”
“Yeah?”
“It turns out he’s not such a bad guy.” He smiled. “And he knows something about cars.”
“What are you saying?”
“He checked the engine for us,” he explained. “Someone had drained all the coolant out of the car, Gaia. And they’d dropped a quarter in the tank just to really screw things up.”
“I knew it,” she said. “I knew someone had messed with the engine.”
“But all we had to do was get the quarter out of there. And then he filled it up with some coolant from the trunk of his truck and now we’re good to go.”
Gaia stared at Sam for a confirmation. “Say that again,” she uttered.
Escape Page 15
