by Elle Casey
Colin stands, grabbing Dack by the collar and yanking him up.
Dack shouts in pain and leans over to spit on Rebel’s door. I watch in horror as a glob of bloody goo drips down the wood leaving a smear behind. I think there might be a tooth mixed in with it, and that little tidbit of awful makes my stomach flip over not once, not twice, but three times. Hat trick! Oh God … The vomit is coming…
“Who the hell are you and why are you here in my house?” Colin asks, his face two inches from Dack’s.
“Fuck you, ath-hole” Dack whispers.
Yup … he has spaces where his front teeth used to be. I don’t think he means to sound like a lispy Clint Eastwood, but he does a pretty good impression anyway.
“One more chance before I send you to the hospital for a nice coma-cation,” says Colin.
“Coma-cation?” I ask.
He grins at me in a sickly devious way. “Vacation, coma-style.”
I swallow with difficulty. “Sorry I asked. Please don’t.”
Colin frowns. “Why not?”
“Because. You’ll get in trouble, and Rebel will hate me for getting you there.”
Colin sneers. “I’m not worried about Rebel.” He turns back to Dack. “Who do you work for and what do they want? Tell me or I crack your skull, and trust me, that’s not just an expression.”
Even I can tell how serious Colin is. A sigh of relief blasts out of me when Dack obviously senses it too.
“I don’t know. Some dude in a suit hired me to find this girl and get the thumb drive that was sent to her, that’s it.”
“And what are you supposed to do with it when you get it?”
Dack sags down into his shirt. The collar goes up around his ears as he loses all of his remaining resistance. “I have an overnight postage envelope to send it in. It’s in the car.”
Colin drops him to the floor and turns to me with a big grin. “That was easy.” His grin instantly falls off as he turns around and kicks Dack squarely in the face, sending him flying onto his back unconscious.
“Oh shit,” I squeak, taken aback by the violence. Seeing Colin nearly beat the guy to death was bad enough, but that last move looked like it was done for the sheer fun of it. Colin scares me.
Colin walks back to his apartment. He’s only in there for a few seconds before he’s out in the hallway again with his cell.
I crab-walk away from the mess of bodies by Rebel’s door over towards Colin’s apartment as he begins speaking on his phone.
“Yo, Rebel. We have a situation at the garage. Better get over here.” He pauses before continuing. “Yeah, she’s here. And she had company that I had to deal with, so hurry up before they wake up. Don’t bring the cops.”
I hear a raised voice coming from the phone, but I can’t tell what Rebel is saying.
“I don’t know! What the fuck, man, just get here!” He hangs up with a scowl and fixes me with a malevolent glare.
“What?” I ask, hating how meek I sound but just a tiny bit afraid I’m about to be punched.
“Stop looking at me like that!” he shouts.
“Like what?!” I shout back, the adrenaline in my system taking over my voice box.
“Like I’m going to smash your face in!”
“Are you?!” I scream.
He pulls his head back and looks at me quizzically. “No,” he finally says, smiling a little. “I don’t hit girls.”
For some reason this strikes me as hilarious. First I grin, but then I laugh. It goes from a giggle to a series of guffaws and snorts that girls really shouldn’t ever do outside of an all-girl slumber party. I can’t stop. My head is pounding with pain, but I just keep going. I curl into a fetal position, trying to save my stomach from executing more internal gymnastics.
“You okay?” he asks, bending down and picking me up by the armpits. I’m like a giant infant being set on toddling legs as he stares into my eyes.
“No, I don’t think so.” The laughing is finally subsiding, but now I’m too dizzy to think straight. My knees won’t lock to stand me up.
Colin tries to let me go, but soon realizes if he does I’ll be down for the count. Before I can explain that I think I might have a concussion, he swoops me up into his arms and walks with me into his apartment.
The entire room is spinning so fast, I can’t make heads or tails of it. “Put me down,” I say, my stomach and throat burning. “I’m gonna throw up.”
He races into the kitchen and sets me down in front of the sink, just in time for me to fall into it face-first and upchuck the rest of my sherbet punch.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I’M LYING IN A POOL of my own sweat on Colin’s leather couch with a cold, wet rag on my face when I hear Quin screaming out in the hallway.
I try to sit up, worried she’s in trouble, but the headache rages sharply and the room spins, so I lie down and pray Colin can save her.
He’s out the door in two seconds, abandoning his position at the armchair opposite me. I’m glad he’s no longer staring at me. His intensity is a lot more than I can handle right now.
The door flies open and Quin rushes through. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! What in the fricking fracking hell happened to you?!” She drops to her knees beside the couch and stares at my face. “Oh, honey, you look terrible.”
I try to smile, but I just don’t have it in me. “Thanks. That makes me feel loads better.”
“Where did you go? What happened to your face? Why are you here?”
I close my eyes and swallow carefully, praying I’m not going to vomit on her. She’s just trying to help. “They kidnapped me outside your house.”
“Shut! Up!”
“I’m serious.”
“Shut! Up!”
I open one eye. “Can I tell the story or are you going to tell me to shut up another ten times?”
She puts her hand over her mouth. “You’re serious,” she mumbles out.
“Jesus, Quin. Do I look like I’m kidding?”
She shakes her head slowly as tears rush to her eyes.
“Stop. Do not cry. I can’t take it right now.” My own voice trembles with emotion.
I’m pretty sure I have a handle on it too, until I see Rebel’s hulking frame in the doorway. Something about seeing him standing there, his face a mask of anger, makes me completely lose whatever cool I might have collected over the past fifteen minutes waiting for them to arrive. My face is spasming with the effort of holding in my pain, but the tears themselves are out of control. They flow down my cheeks and into my ears.
Quin follows my gaze and looks over her shoulder, moving to the side as Rebel strides over.
He sits on the coffee table next to me and takes my hand in his. He says nothing. He just stares into my eyes, his face stern and lined with what looks like fury.
My heart is breaking because I’m not sure who the anger is for. Maybe he’s pissed I brought trouble to his doorstep. Who could blame him for that? Or maybe it’s the loogie on his door…
“I’ll clean up the mess,” I say, praying this will be enough to fix things.
“You …” He presses his lips together and then stands, dropping my hand. He’s over the coffee table with one big step and back out into the hallway before I can figure out what I said wrong.
“Where’s he going?” I ask.
Quin jumps up and runs after him. Standing in the doorway she throws her hand to her mouth and then squeaks. “No!” she yells, disappearing down the hall.
I hear all kinds of fumbling around and then yelling. A big boom is followed by the sound of someone grunting in pain. Quin’s voice is mixed in with all of it, but I can’t make out what anyone’s actually saying or doing.
I struggle to get off the couch, but only make it to a sitting-up position before I see Colin go flying backwards past the door. A second later, he’s up and running in the opposite direction. “No, Rebel! No! Hands off, man!”
I lean back in the cushions and inhale as much as I
can, and then let it all out in one big shout.
“Reeebbeelllllll!”
All the sounds in the hallway cease.
First Quin’s head comes around the corner. “Good call,” she says in a loud whisper.
Then Rebel comes back into the apartment. He stops just a couple steps in, pushing his hands through his hair. One of his knuckles is bleeding.
“Stop it right now,” I say as sternly as I can. “No more violence.”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m pretty sure I have a concussion, and if someone doesn’t get me to the hospital soon, it’s possible I could go into a coma and die.”
His face goes slack and then furious again. “Are you serious?” His voice is so calm, I can’t tell if he’s angry, scared, or just curious.
“Yes. Maybe. Seriously. Please? Take me to the hospital?” I don’t plan it this way, but my vision suddenly going gray works really well to my advantage. I sense the darkness closing in again and can only think how grateful I am that I’m lying on a couch this time when I pass out.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
WHEN I COME-TO AGAIN, I’m wearing a really lame hospital gown and have an IV stuck in my hand. I frown when I look down and see a ring on my left ring finger. I don’t usually wear rings and this one isn’t mine. When I turn my hand over, I smile, noticing right away whose ring this is. Quin must have slipped it on for good luck or something.
Rebel is sitting in a chair next to me. He’s staring at me saying nothing.
“You know, that’s really freaking me out,” I say.
“What?”
“The staring and not talking thing.”
“You were unconscious.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He scoots his chair closer to my bed never breaking eye contact with me. “You feel okay?”
“All things considered, I guess.” I reach up with my non-IV hand and feel the spot on the back of my head where the hair is missing. It’s too tender to explore very well, but I know for sure I’m going to have to start wearing my hair differently to cover it up. Bring on the eighties hair clips.
“What do you want me to do with them?” he asks.
“With who?”
“The guys who took you.”
“What do you mean what do I want you to do with them? With them? What does that even mean?”
“Colin has them at the garage. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Rub ‘em out.” I say, trying to stay poker-faced.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Bury them in the backyard?”
“Yeah. Plant flowers over them too, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, no problem.” He stands to go.
I wait until he gets to the door. “Wait!” When he turns around I smile. “You didn’t think I was serious, did you?” There’s a sick little piece of me who is happy about the fact that he might actually bury someone who kidnapped me, just because I asked him to do it. That’s true love right there.
“I’ve decided never to make assumptions about you.”
“Well, I wasn’t serious. Come back here and talk to me.”
Rebel returns to his seat and picks up my hand, sandwiching it between his larger ones. “The doctor says my wife is going to be fine but that she has a concussion.”
“Your wife?” My face goes white and my heart skips a beat. I’m completely and totally freaked out.
He looks at the ring on my hand. “Quin said they wouldn’t tell us anything if we weren’t related. And I didn’t want to pretend I was your brother and then have them catch me kissing you.”
I smile as my face heats up. “You planned on kissing me?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”
He shrugs. “I’m a presumptuous guy, I guess.”
I pull on his hand. “I like that about you.”
He leans in and kisses me slowly, being very gentle but setting me on fire nonetheless.
“You are too much,” I whisper against his mouth.
“I think you can handle it,” he says in my ear as he moves his lips to kiss my neck.
I close my eyes and the room spins. It’s not from his sexy moves, though. I push him away weakly. “Don’t come to close. I’m liable to vomit on you.”
He backs away and sits down. “Tell me what you want me to do with those guys and it’ll be done. Colin’s waiting for my call.”
I sigh heavily. “I was going to have you bury them in the backyard, but how about we just call the cops instead?”
“You want to know where he was sending that drive?”
“I already know. It’s my father’s company, right?”
“No. It was a private address.”
“In Sunol?”
“No. San Jose.”
I shrug and look out the window. I can’t see anything but light coming in through sheer curtains. “It doesn’t matter. The police will figure it out.”
“You don’t want to talk about it,” he says simply.
“No, not really.”
He squeezes my hand, forcing me to look at him.
“What?” I say.
“Sometimes when you don’t want to talk about something, that’s when you should do it. Talk about it. Just get it out.”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you.”
“Trust me. I know about these things.”
“Tell me about that girl,” I say on impulse. It’s the best I can do to avoid what he wants to discuss. Maybe I can put him off talking altogether and we can go back to that kissing stuff.
“What girl?”
“The blonde. The one from the club who had coffee with you last week.”
He sighs and stares at me, saying nothing for a little while.
I shrug. “Or we could just not talk and sit here instead. That’d work too.”
“She was someone I spent some time with, but I realized she wasn’t the right girl for me early on.”
“Was she too pretty?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“No, she’s pretty enough.”
“Too sexy? She was too sexy, huh? All that long leg action she has going on. The long hair, boobs, buns of steel. That was probably too much.” I nod and give him my least sincere smile.
“No, it’s fine if you’re into that stuff.”
I snort. “And you’re not.” I wave around at his face and chest. “You’re not into the whole boobs, legs, ass thing. You’re into … what … fatties?” I slap my hand down on the bed.
He doesn’t react at all to my obvious anger or sarcasm. “No, I’m not into fatties. I’m into you.”
I’ve already opened my mouth to respond, but now words are failing me. The best I can do is make noisy air. “Pfffft. Faaaaa. Yeaaahhhh…”
He waits for me to collect myself, but says nothing.
I can’t take the silence. “Rebel, come on. Stop messing around.”
“No one’s messing around.” He touches my fingers.
I push his hand away. “Stop. I have a concussion in case you haven’t heard. I need my rest.” I close my eyes and fake-sleep. I can’t stand looking at him anymore. He’s too pretty, he’s too serious, and he’s too … good. There. I said it. He’s too good for me. He’s an adult, he’s responsible, he’s smart, and he’s fucking getting into my head and it’s freaking me out. I’m jealous over a girl he insists means nothing, and he’s never done anything with her that I’ve seen to make me believe he’s lying. I hate how I’m feeling right now.
“Quin wants to see you,” he says, no emotion in his voice. “I’ll send her in.”
He stands to leave, and I have to use every ounce of control I have not to beg him to stay. I wait until I know he’s gone before I open my eyes again.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I KEEP MY EYES CLOSED, hoping everyone will just go away and leave me to marinate in my tantrum sauce. The sound of a chair scraping over the floor an
d then a huff of breath tells me Quin is here.
“Stop fake-sleeping.”
Saying nothing and keeping my eyelids closed seems like my best plan of action right now. I focus on not letting my eyeballs jitter around under my lids.
“Fine, you want to fake it? Go ahead. I’ll just talk without you. First, I’m going to apologize again. My mouth was having a fight with my brain and my mouth won. I suck, okay? You forgive me, right? Of course you do.” She pauses, maybe to wait for my response, but then gives up pretty quickly.
“Second, you need to woman-up. You can’t sit here and pretend like nothing’s going on and ignore all the stuff going down around you.” She must be leaning closer now because her voice is right by my face. “I’m talking about your dad’s company and that gorgeous hunk of confused man-flesh out there … oh, and your rescuer Colin who frankly scares the ever loving shit out of me while at the same time making me feel like taking all my clothes off and throwing myself at him. It’s an interesting dilemma I could really use your counsel on, you know, whenever you’re done feeling sorry for yourself.”
My eyelids are flickering, despite my best efforts at keeping them still. She’s saying things designed to piss me off while couching them in apologies. I hate that she knows how to push my buttons so well.
She continues her onslaught. “That IPO business is about to happen and you need to get your ass cheeks off your head and make some phone calls, at least. I don’t know who you’d call but at least the police. You were kidnapped for shit’s sake. And then we’re going to call your step-mother and tell her she’s going down to ass-kicking town, courtesy of your right foot.”
My eyelids fly open. “No!”
“Ahhh, so it’s the step-mother that finally does it. Note to self.”
“Shut up.” I glare at her. “Can’t you see I’m sick?”
Quin rolls her eyes. “Please. You’re not sick. Injured, maybe. But not too injured to make a couple phone calls.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Doctor told me.”
“What?” My hand clenches into a fist. “I guess privacy laws don’t exist anymore.”
She shrugs unapologetically. “I told them I’m your sister. Oh, and I also told them Rebel is your husband, so that’s why you have that gorgeous wedding ring on. Don’t lose it.”