by Vivi Barnes
“Perfect.” She reaches up to wipe a tear slipping out from underneath my sunglasses. “Absolutely perfect.”
My phone buzzes then with a text. I almost rip off my sunglasses to look at the message, assuming it’s from Sam. As soon as I open it, though, I wish I hadn’t. It’s the picture of my grandfather and me at dinner on Valentine’s Day—the same one that was mailed in the card. I stare at the picture for a long moment, my brain slowly switching gears. Stalker.
The stalker who now has my phone number.
I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to get control of myself. He’s sending me the same picture as I already have. He has my number, but he can’t reach through the phone and hurt me. I have my location untraceable through my cell—I verified that before. He can’t hurt me.
But why would the idiot send me the same picture from a phone number that can be traced?
“What’s wrong?” Em asks quickly, coming to my side. She takes the phone from my trembling hands. “Oh, my God, Liv! He’s texting you now?”
“It’s fine,” I say as bravely as I can. “This is the picture he mailed me a while back in that card I got.”
Emerson’s face pales. She looks slowly up at me, and my heart drops at her stricken expression. “Has he sent you this one before?” she asks quietly, turning the phone around so I see the new image. I inhale sharply, the breath getting caught in my throat. The photo reveals me lying asleep in bed, wearing my gray sleep T and shorts, one leg draped across the top of the sheets. And a long-stemmed white rose on the pillow next to me. Valentine’s Day.
There are no words, just a scream that never escapes my lips. The sound of blood pounding in my veins fills my ears as my vision starts to darken.
Emerson grabs my arm to steady me, forcing me to sit down on my bed. I take several deep breaths to keep from throwing up. “This is crazy,” she’s saying, running to the bathroom to get me a cup of water. “What a sicko.”
The water helps me get control of my shaking. “Why now?” I manage to ask. “Right now, when I’m about to drive to Richmond.”
“Coincidence? He doesn’t know you’re leaving.”
These days, I don’t believe in coincidence. “Unless he assumes I’m already on my way because of what he did to Jack. Maybe he thinks I won’t be able to turn this in because I’m at the hospital with him?”
But that isn’t right. I could still give it to the police. Nobody in his right mind—not even the stupidest criminal—would send a text from his phone if he didn’t want to get caught. It’s a Richmond area code, too.
“Liv, you need to show the PI those pictures. And you should probably stay here, too.”
I nod slowly. The idea of being on the road alone when some crazed freak is after me is too much. I click the phone closed, not wanting to look at that picture ever again. My grandfather is going to freak out when he sees this.
“Come on,” I tell her after switching coats and hats back to our own. “Let’s go show the PI.”
We head downstairs, but something about this bothers me. Almost as much as the creepy factor. I grab Em’s arm on the last step. “Wait a second. Let’s think about this. The guy is sending me pictures, probably from a burner phone that we won’t be able to trace. Really, why at this very moment, when the pictures were taken a while ago?”
Her mouth twists as she thinks about it. “Maybe to freak you out so you’ll stay here?”
I nod. “Exactly what I was thinking. If I stay here, I might be walking into a trap. To be honest, I’m not even sure that’s it not a member of Grandfather’s staff.”
I whisper the last words to her. When I originally thought Theo was responsible for the rose, it occurred to me that maybe he paid one of the staff to leave it for me. Why couldn’t someone have been bribed to take the picture, too, while I was asleep? Not Mrs. Bedwin, of course, but he’s got others who work here.
“So what are you going to do?” Emerson asks.
I glance at my phone. Still no text from Sam about Jack. If I drive to Richmond, I’ll be alone. Hopefully disguised enough as Emerson to throw the guy off, but that’s no guarantee. If I stay here, I’m a target waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
I look at Emerson and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just be careful.” She hands me her keys, but I push them back at her.
“There’s no way I’m taking your car. If they think I’m still here, they’ll follow you. I’m not risking your life.”
She crosses her arms. “But you’d risk yours? That’s no better.”
“It is for me. If something happened to you because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I’ll be fine.”
My words sound braver than I feel at the moment, but I’m not sticking around to see if the stalker would like to climb his way up the balcony again.
I start to walk toward the door but Emerson grabs my arm. “Liv, take my car. I’ll have Kade give me a ride home from school so nobody will have to drive your car around, okay? It’ll just stay at the school, and you can call your grandfather later to explain if you aren’t back by then. Please. If you don’t, I’ll tell the PI what you’re planning, and he’ll stop you from leaving.”
I hug her as tightly as I can. “There will never be a better friend than you,” I say softly. She hugs me back even tighter, and I know she’s afraid for me.
Emerson and I go outside to show the text to the PI. He heads to his car with my phone to make notes and take pictures, then tells me to call him immediately if there’s another incident. He also insists on driving me to school himself. I glance at Emerson, who shrugs. I guess it doesn’t matter whether my car is sitting here or at school.
He drops me off in front of the school. I go inside and walk to the back door, which leads to the student parking lot. Emerson is waiting for me next to her car. She hands me her keys and insists on swapping hats, coats, and sunglasses again, just in case.
“You sure Kade will be able to take you home?” I ask her.
She nods. “Be careful. Let me know what’s going on when you can. And if you aren’t back before school’s out, you can always text the PI that you’re riding home with us or something. Maybe I should go with you.”
“No, you need to be here.” I hug her again, as tightly as I can. “I love you, Em. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
By the time I’m on the road, it’s almost eight o’clock. Even though I’m in Em’s car, wearing her sunglasses and hat, I feel exposed. The image of me in bed asleep is fixed in my mind, and I find myself jumping at every stoplight when another car stops next to me.
It’s almost ten when I pull into the VCU Medical Center in Richmond. I find Sam wandering the halls on the third floor. She stares at me for a second, and I remember I probably look very different to her with my new blond hair.
“Liv?” She runs to me, wrapping me in her arms. For the first time since I left Monroe Street, I remember the warmth of the friendship we had, even if it was brief and for a purpose that wasn’t really honest. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She pulls back and smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “He’s okay, don’t worry. Got some bruised ribs and is pretty banged up, but he’ll live.” She shakes her head and laughs shortly. “The guy drives me crazy, but he’s like my brother.”
Sam takes my hand and walks me to a room. The first thing I see when she pushes open the door is the bright blue dress of a woman standing between the bed and me.
“Nancy,” I say quietly.
She whips around, her red hair flying around a half second after. “Liv?” She hugs me, but my eyes move to the sleeping boy in the bed. My throat tightens—he looks so vulnerable. A bruise trails along his jaw, but otherwise I don’t see anything scary. I walk to the opposite side and take his limp hand, noticing another large bruise on his exposed shoulder.
“He’s okay,” Nancy says. “The doctors say he’ll make a full recovery in a few weeks. The helmet and his leather protected him for the most part. But he’ll
need to rest to heal. He stayed last night, and the doctors don’t want to release him just yet.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“We don’t know.” She touches his forehead, brushing strands of his hair back. “He was found next to his motorcycle. His head hit a large rock, which seemed to have knocked him out for a bit, but thank God he was wearing his helmet. He also got a sliver of metal from something on the ground buried in his side, so they had to remove that.”
“Has he said anything about what happened?”
She shakes her head. “He can’t seem to remember much.” She sighs heavily, which ends in a choke. “Maybe it was a drunk driver or something. I don’t know.”
“I’ll stay with him,” I tell her. “Why don’t you go get some food or something?”
She smiles sadly at me. “I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I am for you, Liv. I’ve never seen him happier than when he was with you.” She fondly touches his cheek. “Did he tell you we’ve stopped hacking?”
I nod, even though I know he hasn’t. I wonder if she suspects this, too.
“Well, it’s partially due to your influence. The light in his eyes when he was with you, and the lengths he went through to shield you from the business—it was the first time I thought there could be something else for all of us.” The smile fades as she looks at Jack. “He doesn’t think he can quit. I know he can, though. Maybe you can help him see reason?”
I don’t answer. I refuse to be used by Nancy to get Jack to do anything, even if what she says makes sense. Jack is the only one who should make that choice, not her. For the first time, I see it through his eyes. Hacking has been his life, and just telling him he should drop it isn’t going to cut it. He has to come around on his own terms.
Nancy leaves, and I sit in the blue vinyl chair next to him, still holding his hand. My eyes focus on his closed eyes, mostly in an attempt to avoid staring at the IV needle coming out of his arm and the beeping machines that won’t shut up. “Jack,” I whisper. “I’m here.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out to see a text from Emerson: Is he ok?
I text her back: Sitting next to him. Bruised up but will be fine.
Good. Everything fine here don’t worry. If you stay late maybe text grandpa.
Good idea. I text my grandfather that I’m staying after school, and after a few back-and-forths about this morning’s awful pictures, he tells me to be careful and call the PI to pick me up as soon as I’m done. Perfect.
Except I don’t feel perfect. Regardless of how important it is for me to be here in Richmond, it doesn’t feel good knowing that I’ve lied to my grandfather more this week than I have the entire eight months since being there. He trusts me right now, even if just barely. If he finds out what I’m doing, he’ll never believe me again. And could I blame him?
I wish he didn’t hate Jack so much. He should be concerned for him, too, instead of worrying about me falling in with “the wrong crowd.” For my grandfather, and for those like him, the wrong crowd includes people who didn’t grow up privileged. Like Jack. Like me.
And maybe even like my father.
I lean back in my chair and take out my phone, staring at the strange number from the text. I look online, but there’s no record of it, of course I’m sure it’s a prepaid burner phone with no way of tracing it. I just don’t get why someone would use it to send me pictures that were taken days ago, unless he was trying to get me to stay in Norfolk out of fear.
Jack stirs and his eyes flutter open, and for a moment we make eye contact before he falls back asleep. I lean forward to kiss his cheek, the emotions swelling over me. I’ll never let my grandfather or anyone else hurt him—this guy I know I love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JACK
The drugs allow me to fly in and outside of myself. There are many faces to look at—
Nancy
Sam
Micah
Doctors
Nancy comforting a sobbing Maggie. Did I die or something?
Nurses
Liv
She doesn’t notice I’m awake, watching her as she stares out the window. Her hair is different. The room is dark but her hair is lighter. Blond?
The drugs are still in my system, which is great for the bitch of a pain in my side but sucks because I can’t trust myself to speak. The nurses have me propped up to where I’m almost sitting. Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe it.
“Hey,” I say to Liv, and the word comes out muffled, like I’m speaking through cotton.
She turns to walk over to me, her warm hand sliding through my cold one. “Hey.” Her eyes are puffy, and maybe it’s the drugs, but it makes me feel good that she cares that much. Maybe even more than Nancy. Which I think I tell her because she smiles.
“Of course I care about you,” she says. Her voice sounds far away, and I reach out—or don’t, I’m not sure.
Minutes or hours later, I wake again. Liv is talking to the doctor. Or listening. Nancy is there, too. And Sam. They both look at me as I stir. I hate this. I hate feeling exposed and everyone looking at me like I’m some lost puppy. I was begging for the drugs when I first got here, as much pain as I was in, but now they’re annoying the hell out of me.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Nancy asks, coming to my side to take my hand. I appreciate the irritated look Liv gives her on my behalf.
The doctor asks me several questions, repeating himself a few times as he stares into my eyes. More concussion questions. I think I answer okay, though his eyebrows pinch slightly a couple of times. If I screwed up, I blame it on whatever drugs they’re giving me. He checks the bandage on my side, smiling and nodding.
“Well, the good news is that we should be able to release you tomorrow morning,” he says briskly, pulling up my chart and making some notes. “You’ll have to take it easy for a few weeks, though, until your ribs heal. Get your homework sent home from school.” He nods at Nancy. “And definitely no more hot-rodding.”
Hot-rodding? “Someone ran me off the road,” I tell him. And just like that, the memory washes over me, though I can’t remember much past seeing the truck sidle up next to me.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Uh-huh, are you sure? The roads were awfully slippery that day.”
“Yeah, pretty sure I’d know if someone ran me off the road.” He’s still looking at me skeptically, like I’m just making excuses for “hot-rodding.” Judgmental asshole.
“Who was it?” Nancy asks. At least she’s taking me seriously. “What’d the car look like?”
“It was a truck. Maybe black. That’s all I could see.” I don’t remember if the truck was black for sure, but it was dark. I keep my eyes on Nancy to see if she realizes a connection with Frank’s truck, but she doesn’t flinch. I try to sit up straight, but the pain in my side forces me back. The agony must show in my face as Liv hovers over me.
“Can’t you do anything for him?” she asks anxiously.
“Not for another couple hours,” the doctor says cheerfully. Enjoying my pain. I’m sure he’s one of those doctors who thinks this injury will teach me a lesson.
Suddenly, there are too many people around me. I’m not claustrophobic by nature, but everyone staring at me is really starting to grate on my nerves. I want to be able to jump out of this damaged body and get away—run from everyone on my Ducati. I can’t, so I do the next best thing: I close my eyes, pretending to sleep. I keep my hand clamped around Liv’s. Everyone leaves, and now the only voice speaking is the only one I need.
“They’re gone,” she whispers, her lips pressing against my cheek. “You can stop pretending to sleep.”
I open my eyes.
“What was that about?” she asks.
“Just needed some space. You dyed your hair.”
She nods and sits back. “I needed a change. Now who is the jerk who ran you off the road?”
“I don’t know. Really. It was a guy in a truck that
was dark, either black or blue or something.”
“You sure it was a guy?”
“Yeah. Well, no, but…”
She nods. “You’re thinking it was Frank, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I couldn’t find much on him, but I overheard a conversation between him and Nancy about him wanting to use one of us for something. A bank job, I think.”
“Did you ask Nancy about it?”
“Yeah. She still says he’s not involved with all this. I’m not so sure. But you know, whoever is must be working with someone in the house.”
Liv taps a finger to her chin. “I wonder if it could be Nancy herself.”
I level a gaze at her. She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Jen?”
I nod. “I was following her when I got hit. And Maggie overheard her telling someone that she was going to get me back. This would be the perfect way.”
“Jeez, she really needs to get a life. I’m going to work on this while you’re laid up,” she says.
“What?” I stare at her, and suddenly the fact that Liv is in Richmond registers in my mind. “Wait a minute. You shouldn’t even be here.”
She smiles and brushes her hand over my hair. I reach up to wrap my fingers around her wrist and firmly push it away. “Liv. Go home.”
“Not a chance,” she says grimly.
“There’s someone after you, and you being here is going to make it easier for him. I don’t need you here. I need you in Norfolk where you’re safe.”
“Safe?” She pulls out her phone, opening up a text and almost shoving it at me. “This is what I got this morning—a souvenir from that Valentine’s Day rose on my pillow. Clearly, staying in Norfolk is not making me safer.”
Whatever I was going to say is lost as I stare at the image of her lying in bed. My stomach twists as an overwhelming fear takes over my body. I swing my legs to the side of the bed, grabbing her phone from her hands.
She snatches it back. “I showed the PI the text this morning and he’s already investigating. Lie down, Jack, before you hurt yourself.” Almost as if on cue, the pain comes rushing back in waves. I wince as I let her help me back.