The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

  there before.

  I returned the Arctic vibe right back at them. Whatever trust I had in

  Pete before went sayonara during the short ride back. He was lying to me.

  Whatever sort of trouble Ranger was involved in, Pete was in just as deep . . .

  even if he was a reluctant participant. Ranger turned off the ignition, and we

  found ourselves in stone cold silence. I was the first to break it by unclicking

  my seatbelt. I tried opening the door, but it was child-locked. Figures.

  Ranger twisted around in his seat. “No tricks, Glasses.”

  “What do you think I’m gonna do? . . . Disappear in a cloud of smoke?”

  Something peculiar flickered in Ranger’s eyes before he lifted half a busted

  lip. “Just remember . . . we’ll be watching you,” he warned before popping the

  lock. “And I know it’s a stretch, but try to be on your best behavior.”

  “Well, I wasn’t plannin’ on stickin’ a pack of gum in my purse without

  payin’, so I wouldn’t worry,” I replied hotly.

  Pete’s lips quirked up, and Ranger gave a throaty chuckle, like despite

  himself. I hopped down from my perch, fighting the urge to make another

  mad dash for it. Doubtful they would chase me through the well-lit parking

  lot in front of the few witnesses still loitering about, but I wasn’t a hundred

  • 89 •

  percent positive. Also, if I didn’t call my father soon, he really would have the cops out looking for me. And my blistered feet were just begging for a ride

  home. And since they hadn’t killed me yet, they wouldn’t for the remainder

  of the night, I reasoned. I began stalking to the pharmacy when a hard hand

  gripped my elbow.

  “Not so fast,” Ranger said, sounding so much like an arresting officer I

  actually froze in place.

  Real y? What does he think I’m gonna do? Hold up the pharmacy?

  I was about to throw a hissy when Pete ambled up. “I don’t think you’re

  quite fit for public display,” he observed.

  Rage swept through me. So they’re embarrassed to be seen slummin’ it with

  me? Well they could just suck it! I wrenched my arm from Ranger’s iron clasp, nearly yanking it out of the socket in the process. “I’ll have you know, I don’t

  care what you think!” I hissed, vehemently bypassing them.

  Pete nabbed me before I could get two paces away. “It’s just . . . you’ve

  got blood smeared all over your . . . er, top,” he explained. “And neither am

  I for that matter.” He dropped my arm to indicate his shirt; it looked like it

  was paintball splattered red.

  Oh. While I fought to hold on to my righteous indignation, Pete grabbed

  the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. OMG! The popular Ashley-

  Leigh catchphrase immediately sprang to mind. His bare torso did funny

  things to my insides. I felt the need to swallow, for one thing. For another,

  my stomach went all woozy. Thankfully, he didn’t give me a chance to drool

  because he strode back to the Hummer to rummage around before coming

  up with two lightweight jackets, one of which he handed off to me. I stood,

  stupidly holding it, as he threw an arm into each sleeve and hastily zipped up,

  adding a pair of mirrored aviators over his purpling eye.

  I cleared my throat and squeaked out a “thanks” before zipping up my

  own jacket. When I looked up, it was to see them staring at me—funny.

  I automatically faced Pete. However, he was presently too occupied with

  keeping his straight to answer, so I turned to Ranger.

  “You look like a flasher.” He answered my unasked question.

  I tossed my hair at him and flounced away, wondering what was worse—

  his icy indifference or his cruel clevers. Wel , obviously, the jacket is too big for me, I grumbled. But the real problem was my shorts—they were way too

  short; it looked like I was just wearing an oversized jacket and cowboy boots.

  Ranger snickered. “You can flash me anytime, Glasses.”

  “Ha-ha very funny,” I retorted, balling up the jacket in my hands.

  • 90 •

  Pete put a finger to his lips, contemplating. “Here . . .” He reached for me again.

  I scowled at him, unaccountably angry for the amused look still upon his

  face. But my anger receded about the same time my jacket did—by his warm

  hands sliding it up my stomach. I audibly sucked in a breath. If he noticed,

  he didn’t make any sign of it. Pulling on two strings dangling at the bottom

  of the zipper (that I had failed to notice), he tied them into a bow. Now the

  jacket stayed at my waist instead of dropping to my knees.

  Pete stepped back to study the effect. “I think that’s the best we can do

  under the circumstances.” A pushy hand on my back prodded me forward,

  and a bunch of orders followed behind. “Go to the restroom and get cleaned

  up, then grab a bottle of water and a nutrition bar—wouldn’t hurt to put some

  food into your system.” He tried handing me a wad of bills, which I refused.

  “I’m not so sure we should feed the animal,” Ranger quipped.

  Pete suppressed another smile at my expense before continuing on in an

  authoritative tone like he was my boss. “Then ask to use the phone. Explain

  that you had car trouble tonight and had to walk to a phone. But now you’re

  with a friend from school, who’s going to—”

  “I think I can handle myself just fine, thank-you-very-much,” I snapped.

  A rude, sinusy sound erupted from Ranger but wasn’t followed up with

  a sardonic remark. Instead, he climbed on back into the driver’s seat and

  commenced to looking bored.

  Head held high, I stalked through the automatic doors. Oppressive

  florescent lights immediately made me blink, and it was an instant awakening

  from the dream/nightmare I’d been living for the past couple of hours. After

  my eyes adjusted, I scanned the aisles for a restroom sign and was about to

  head to the back when I noticed Pete staring at me. Again.

  I felt another flash of anger. Really? I narrowed my eyes at him as

  he scrutinized my face. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really tell what he was

  thinking because the mirrored lens only reflected back my own distorted face.

  Embarrassed, I swiped at a black smudge beneath my eye then saw myself go

  wide-eyed as Pete casually threw an arm over my shoulder and walked me to

  the back of the store.

  “What’s with the escort service?” I asked in my most acerbic tone while

  trying to ignore the thrill I felt with his arm wrapped around me. “Afraid I’m

  gonna get lost?”

  Wordlessly, he released me outside the restroom, where I stood facing him

  like a huffed-up hen. Taking me by surprise, he reached out to cup my face in

  his palm, his thumb caressing over the tender spot where Ranger backhanded

  • 91 •

  me. My breath hitched in my throat, and my former anger evaporated as suddenly as a fine mist. Whatever caustic remark I was about to make left my

  brain like it was plucked-out by tweezers.

  His other hand joined my face to draw me forward. It felt like we were

  moving in slow motion, still part of the dream. He leaned down, and my

  face tilted up, a flower starving for sun. During that infinitesimal space in

  time, my heart thudded to a halt, and a sly, almost subversive smil
e curved

  his lips. It was the last thing I saw before closing my eyes and parting my lips.

  I felt teasing lips brush over mine, skimming the corner of my mouth before

  moving up to find my ear instead.

  “Don’t look directly at Ranger,” Pete breathed, light as a feather, before

  abruptly pivoting to head to the pharmacy.

  I just stood there watching him leave, quivering with unmet expectations.

  Blink-blinked my eyes a couple of times like he was a mirage. Wound myself

  around to walk robotically through the door. Stared at my shocked face in

  the mirror and realized my mouth was hanging open. Snapped it shut to turn

  on the faucet. Splashed water on my face—enough times to wash the dirty

  streaks off, but not enough to cool my overheated system.

  Don’t look Ranger directly in the eye, that’s what he said; I was sure of it. But why? A vicious bully he was to be sure, but was he also some kind of mythical creature that would turn me into stone if I stared too long into his ice-cold

  eyes? Or, like a cobra, would he strike me dead if I dared look him in the eye?

  Neither one made sense to me since I’d already glared at him on more than

  one occasion. I was mystified.

  Something occurred to me as I sifted through the events of tonight

  looking for lost meaning. I distinctly remembered Pete reaching up to snap

  off the interior light right before Ranger began raking me over with his

  eyes. He had explained the light bothered his eye, but I felt like that was an

  excuse. Now I wondered if it wasn’t to keep Ranger and I from having eye

  contact. Why?

  I dried my face with some paper towels and stared at my reflection. All I

  could see was red-rimmed, bright eyes and flushed skin—I was more than a

  little titillated by the idea of Pete kissing me. And mortified that I’d practically begged him to meet my lips . . . when all he wanted to do was whisper in my

  ear. Ugh! And what was worse—he knew it! I hurled the soggy wad into the

  trash. I mean, I barely knew the guy and here I was ready to snog him right

  in the middle of the floodlit pharmacy.

  No better than the cheap floozy Ranger took me for!

  Of course he didn’t want to kiss me! I yanked a brush through my tangled

  • 92 •

  mass of hair. I was well aware of how out of my league he thought he was.

  He was just trying to . . . warn me? But why? Weren’t he and Ranger friends?

  No, not friends, I dismissed the idea immediately. There was way too much

  animosity between them for that. More like cohorts.

  A shiver of fear shook me as I recalled how they showed up tonight—

  Poof! —like figments of my imagination. What’s going on? Whatever it was, it wasn’t any good, and they didn’t want me to know about it. My thoughts

  circled back to Pete’s warning. Why not look at Ranger directly? I thought

  through more possibilities, focusing on the most plausible one. Maybe he was

  suffering from some kind of anger disorder? Like if I glared at him one too

  many times, it would set him off and he would snap and beat me senseless?

  I could feel the intense physical violence running like a current right below

  his skin.

  So I would heed the advice. My gut was telling me not to ask any questions

  either, and that was implicit in the way in which Pete delivered the message.

  There was a reason he whispered it in my ear, and it obviously had nothing

  to do with him feeling physically attracted to me. An odd pain twisted my

  insides.

  My eyes drew to the mirror once more. That’s when I noticed one silky

  tie had escaped and was stained scarlet. I tucked it back in, re-zipped the

  jacket, and was preparing to head out when I saw a logo on the left side I

  hadn’t noticed earlier. Hmmm. I leaned closer to inspect, smoothing out

  the wrinkles to read what was hidden in the baggy folds. Something about

  it looked familiar to me. I read the backward letters: International Elite

  Academy encircled a roaring lion.

  I gasped as the bottom fell out of the floor. No wonder my gut reaction had

  been to run tonight. They were associated with that military academy that

  was after my brother! Something shady was going on that involved them, their

  organization, and somehow me. Other than that, I was clueless.

  Why didn’t they just tell me who they were?

  I headed out to find Pete and some answers. When I didn’t immediately

  see him at the pharmacy area, I warily scanned the wall mirrors but couldn’t

  find any tall, golden matinee idols standing in the aisles. Instead, I found the

  eyes of a male employee, following the line of my legs up to my face with a

  barely veiled look of lust on his face. Ew.

  “Can I help you?” he eagerly asked.

  “Yes, can I please use your phone?”

  • 93 •

  “Um . . .” he hesitated between wanting to help me and not wanting to get into trouble. “I’m actually not supposed to do that.”

  Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I began to slink toward

  him while batting my eyelashes. “It’s just that . . . I got in a fight with my

  boyfriend,” I said, hardly having to pretend to blink back tears, “and now I

  don’t have a ride home.”

  He pinkened and looked up guiltily at the security monitor.

  “Please?” I stared at him helplessly. “You’d totally be my hero, and I sure

  could use one tonight.”

  “Okay, sure . . . just this once. Follow me.” He quickly led me to a glass

  partition dividing the store from the pharmacy and unlocked the door with

  a key hanging around his belt loop.

  I gave him my number, and he proceeded to botch it a couple of times

  before punching in the right number. He seemed so pleased with his effort,

  that I gave him a reward smile. It was ringing. I swallowed nervously. This

  was it, the moment of truth or untruth, as it were. My heart was hammering,

  and my palms were sweaty. Even if I could pull off the story, I knew I’d still

  be in a lot of trouble.

  The intervals of buzzing stopped, and the machine clicked on. Was it

  possible Daddy had fallen asleep and wasn’t even aware I was still out? Maybe,

  I thought bolstered by the idea. I was certainly due for the pendulum to swing

  back the other way—for something to go right for me tonight.

  After the beep, I relayed my rehearsed message, explaining my situation

  just in case he was out looking for me and came back to check if I called. I

  sincerely hoped that was not the case. I actually shuttered at the thought of

  how mad that would make him.

  Mr. Helpful was watching how my little drama would play out. “No

  answer, huh?”

  I shook my head and faced the other way only to find Pete watching me.

  He gave me a wave and pointed to the exit. He still looked like an absurdly

  hot star trying to go incognito. I don’t know what I thought: he’d suddenly

  sprout horns and a tail? I watched him glide out the door, handed over the

  receiver with a dismissive “thanks” and turned to leave.

  “I could give you a ride home, if you could wait an hour,” he offered

  desperately.

  I smiled thinly at him. “As tempting an offer as that is . . .” I didn’t finish

  my sentence, a plan hatching in my mi
nd. Pete didn’t know my father didn’t

  pick up. For all he knew, I was still in a heated debate and would be for the

  next few minutes. There was a door next to me marked For Employees Only

  • 94 •

  that led outside. If I could get employee-of-the-month to break one rule, maybe I could get him to break one more?

  Thirty seconds of bad flirting was rewarded, and I slipped through

  the side door. Stepping into the dark shadows, I instantly felt like a secret

  spy and suppressed a nervous giggle. What am I doing? I must have a death wish tonight, because if I was caught sneaking up on those two, they would

  probably kill me. Or worse—torture me by leaving me in the parking lot to

  walk home. (I resolved to buy some new sneakers, even if I had to starve to

  do it.) But I badly needed some answers, and my gut was telling me I was

  heading in the right direction to get them.

  Things weren’t adding up. Or maybe I was adding all wrong. So far I

  had the sum of two handsome strangers, hanging around a small town, to

  chase one lone girl, in the middle of the night. Then I added in the fact that

  they belonged to that Elite Academy that was after my brother. There was

  an unknown quotient here—an X-factor—that revolved around us Connelly

  kids. I knew this in a way that I couldn’t articulate. Right now it was a

  mindboggling equation, but one I was determined to solve. I also suspected

  the two suspects were busy talking things over right now. So I crouched into

  my fly-on-the-wall position and started crawling along with that icky feeling

  creeping up my spine.

  Bad things happen when secrets are kept from me.

  At the edge of where brick wall and parking lot meet, I poked my head

  around the corner. Bingo. They were both sitting in their ridiculous ride,

  looking like they were in the midst of an argument—again. Pete bit back

  something he was going to say to peer into the front of the store, obviously

  waiting for my reemergence. Ranger continued talking heatedly at him, his

  bicep flexing as he pointed. A cold sweat broke out at the thought of getting

  busted. These were not ones to cross . . . especially Ranger; he really had it in for me.

  My stomach lurched as an opportunity presented itself to me—a minivan

  pulled in two spaces away. It was now or never. When their attention diverted