by Danah Logan
"Let’s do this." Two more clicks and I hear the dial tone in my ears. I focus on the beeping as if I could miss Rhys picking up.
"Lilly?"
God, how I have missed his voice.
Just hearing my name from him makes everything fall into place, and I can’t stop the broad grin spreading across my face.
"It’s me," is all I can think of saying. I mean, duh.
George’s voice penetrates my happy haze. "Car approaching!"
"FROM WHERE?" Nate is shouting. I’ve never heard anything even remotely close to panic in his tone—until now.
"Main gate. CUT THE LINE!" The last three words are an order. George has taken charge.
I flip around. "WHAT? NO! NATE! YOU CAN’T!" But the line is already dead. "RHYS!" I cry, gripping the headset, spinning back to the monitor, but of course, there is no answer.
I feverishly gaze between the screen and my brother. "Nate? What is happening? Who is this?" Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I witness the scene unfold in front of me.
How is this even possible?
"NATE, DO SOMETHING!" This can’t be happening. My entire body is shaking. But there is nothing anyone can do.
I faintly register my brother questioning how George could’ve missed this. He is furious with his head of security. I can’t watch any longer. They are still arguing when I turn and address the men in the room and on the monitor. "FIX THIS!"
"Lilly."
"Miss Lilly."
They both start at the same time, but my adrenaline is so high that I lose all control over the little rational thinking I seemed to have left in this situation.
"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK HOW YOU DO IT. FIX IT!"
I zero in on Nate and force myself to lower my tone to a less hysterical volume. "You promised me I’d get to talk to him. Fix it. YOU. PROMISED. ME!" I jab my finger at the space between his eyes.
I need to get out of here. Before either of them can respond, I charge toward the door and tear it open.
"FIX! IT!" I scream again before I let the security door slam shut.
Chapter Fifteen
I thought six-thirty would never come. From the moment I opened my eyes—which, thankfully, was mid-morning due to my late night—I felt this constant current running through my body. A perpetual need to move.
Around two, Den announced that if she saw me pace the room one more time while raking my hands through my—in her words—"already receding hairline," she’d kick me in the balls, followed by tying my hands behind my back and stuffing me in the closet. Those were her parting words as she stormed out of the room.
Dramatic much?
I was about to yell after her where she could stick her bitch attitude when Wes put a hand on my shoulder. One head shake was all it took to deflate the anger toward Lilly’s best friend. For a brief moment, my rational thinking was back. I got it. I would drive myself fucking bat-shit crazy if I had to sit there and watch.
Wes received a text from her when she got home, but she didn’t come back for the rest of the day. We attempted to distract ourselves with video games, but that only lasted for so long. I would continually stare at the phone laying on my thigh and fuck up. Eventually, I told Wes to get out. It was almost six, and I’d be leaving anyway. I wouldn’t need any more babysitting. My best friend didn’t look convinced until I pulled out my phone and dialed Den’s number.
"Everything okay?" Her answering tone was panicked, all the earlier annoyance gone.
"Yeah. All good." I had called her on speakerphone and looked directly at Wes when I continued. "Listen…uh, I’m about to head out. Wes is coming over to your place."
Wes narrowed his eyes at me while the other end of the phone remained quiet. My friends are no idiots; they knew what I was doing. I didn’t want all of us to be separated. I needed the assurance that they were together. Safe.
"I’ll be over in ten," he addressed Den while giving me a curt nod.
"'Kay. You got the code for the gate. I’ll open the garage for you to pull in." Den was all business. Her guard-dog persona that always watched over Lilly had extended to Wes and me over the last few days.
I hung up before either of them could add anything else.
"You sure you’re okay?" My friend’s concern was laced through the question.
My hands halfway to my head, I paused mid-action and huffed out a laugh. My arms fell to my sides, and I stared at the ceiling for several heartbeats.
"No. But you read the email." That was all that needed to be said.
Grabbing his jacket from the back of his desk chair, Wes left the room without another word. I was alone for the first time since getting the email and phone. The urge to send another text message overwhelmed me, but I couldn’t. For one, I had deleted the incoming texts. And two, I couldn’t risk not hearing her voice tonight. Tapping the screen, I saw it was 5:53. It was a ten-minute drive at this time of day.
At one point before she left, after I had paced probably a mile and a half through Wes’s room, Den asked cautiously if I even knew where I was supposed to go.
"Yes," was all I said. Neither asked for more detail—not that I would’ve given it. The location was a no-brainer after reading the email. Woodland Park. Lilly kept the picture on her desk for ten years. It was the first picture we took together after she moved in with us. Even after I froze her out, it remained on her desk. I used to stare at it from the hallway whenever her door was open and she wasn’t home—fuck, I don’t think I could’ve been more pathetic.
Grabbing the phone and my coat, I made my way to the Defender. The current had transformed into a raging river of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Thirty more minutes. You gotta keep it together for thirty more minutes.
The park is eerily dark. I don’t think I’ve ever been here at night. Whenever someone had suggested hanging out here, I came up with a better suggestion—a suggestion that usually got one of us in trouble. But this was a place I would never tarnish with my drunk friends or Kat. This was our place: Lilly’s and mine. Even when there was no us during those two years.
I drive to the parking lot closest to the picnic area. From there, it’s only a couple hundred feet to the spot where I grinned into the camera while Lilly looked up at me. The picnic area, which consists of about a dozen rectangular wooden tables with attached benches, is surrounded by trees, thicker on one side with a small stream running through. The perfect place for kids to run, climb, and play, which is exactly what Lilly and I used to do whenever we came here on the weekends. God, how I loved coming here. It was almost like before. Just the two of us playing. No pretending. No hiding. Even at eight years old, the secret was suffocating me.
The screen on the phone displays 6:20. It’s time. Opening the door of the Defender, my breath immediately becomes visible in the illuminated dome light. The nights are still freezing even though we’re approaching spring. I shut the door and use the flashlight of the phone to make my way over to the spot. With every step, my heartbeat quickens more and my legs become unsteady. When I think I’ve reached the place—I sure hope the psycho doesn’t expect me to stand in my ten-year-old footprints—I turn in a circle. It’s pitch black on three sides. The only illumination comes from the few streetlamps along the paved road leading to the parking lot. I wonder if the lack of light was intentional by the city to avoid people loitering here at night.
Three minutes to go. I rub my hands over my arms and jump in place on the balls of my feet—the urge to move is back. I can’t stand still, no matter how hard I try. Touching the screen over and over, I will the numbers to change to six-three-zero.
I tap again and see how the six, two, and nine turn into a six, followed by a three and a zero. If someone connected me to a blood pressure cuff right now, they’d call an ambulance. My pulse feels like I just did ten 50 40s in a row. My breath is so ragged that I close my eyes and start counting backward from thirteen, hoping to slow my breathing down enough to not pass out from hyperventilating.
<
br /> That would be my luck, passing out right before the phone call. I make sure not to let the display go dark again the entire time when the last digit jumps to one.
Why isn’t she calling?
What if everything she said was a lie, and she is not safe at all?
The phone starts vibrating in my hand, and I almost drop it.
UNKNOWN.
I stare for a second then swipe and lift it to my ear.
"Lilly?" I can barely get her name out; my voice is just a rasped whisper.
"It’s me." The pitch in her tone makes it clear that she’s smiling, and calm washes over me.
Before I can say anything else, I hear a male voice in the background. "FROM WHERE?" It’s evident that he is yelling, or I wouldn’t have heard him. This is bad. Really. Bad.
"WHAT? NO! NA—" are Lilly’s last words before the phone call disconnects.
"LILLY!" My voice is back, and a guttural scream finds its way out of my previously constricted lungs.
That’s when I see them. Headlights. They’re slowly coming up the paved road and stop right next to my car.
WHAT. THE. FUCK? No, no, no…
This can’t be real.
The beams are on me, and I’m completely blind. I shield my eyes with the hand that is not holding the phone and can make out that the driver's side door opens.
If Wes or Den followed me here, I will kill them.
"Rhys?"
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This has to be a joke. I bend over and crouch down, head in my hands, gripping my hair. I pull as hard as I can, hoping to get the utter rage under control, which has replaced the previous nervous current. I probably pull several chunks out, but the red haze doesn’t go away. Footsteps approach on the frozen grass, and I force myself to stand up. My fists are clenched so tightly they’re shaking. It’s a miracle the phone casing doesn’t crack.
"Rhys?" There it is again. My name. The name she only ever used when she was not happy with my performance as the perfect boyfriend.
I face the last person I expected to see tonight.
"Kat." My tone is detached. I want to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. I tighten my fist even more to not follow through. She is the reason the psycho disconnected the phone call. She is the reason I don’t get to talk to Lilly. If I remain here, I don’t think I can control myself. I want to hurt her, and I’ve never wanted to harm a female in my life. Ever.
I slip the phone in the back pocket of my jeans and brush past her without a word. I need to put distance between us. She tries to reach for my arm, and I round on her, getting straight in her face. "If you touch me, I can’t guarantee anything. If anything happens to Lilly because of you, I will kill—"
Fuck, what am I doing?
I spin on my heels and walk away as fast as I can without breaking into a full-on sprint.
Thankfully, I didn’t lock my car. I’m in the driver’s seat and have the car in reverse by the time my ex reaches my window. I can hear her muffled voice calling my name again, but I don’t stop. I reverse out of the spot and speed down the narrow pathway faster than I probably should.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
I hit the steering wheel several times before I let go of the feral scream that has been building up all day until my throat hurts so badly I can’t even swallow. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go home. The fact that my father has been spying on me still has me reeling. He betrayed me. Without thinking, I find myself keying in the code to Denielle’s parents’ mansion not fifteen minutes later. As I pull up to the garages, one gate is already open, and I see Wes standing at the end of the spot against the wall. His hands are clasped on top of his head, and he stares at me with worry in his eyes. I pull in and sit there, not breaking eye contact with my best friend. I hear the gate close behind me; a glance into the rearview mirror confirms the sound.
Denielle’s form joins Wes’s. Scanning my face, her hands fly to her mouth, and tears immediately begin running down her cheeks. I take one more deep breath before I open the door and step out. I can’t even begin to process what just happened. I had Lilly on the phone. I heard her voice, and then Kat showed up. He was there in the background. He cut her off. I have no idea if I will ever get another chance to talk to her. My legs give out, and I crumble to the floor.
I’m faintly aware that two arms are wrapped around me, preventing me from face-planting onto the way too polished cement floor while gut-wrenching sobs make my entire body shake.
They lead me into the house. Wes has my arm strapped over his shoulder to keep me from tripping over my own feet. I can’t see a thing with my blurred vision, and I press my free hand over my mouth in an attempt to restrain some of the whimpers escaping my hoarse throat. I’m past caring how I look.
Somehow, we end up on the back patio. It’s fucking freezing outside. What the hell are we doing out here? But realization seeps into my muddled brain, and I notice the flames crackling in the massive build-in fire pit. Sitting in one of the four chairs surrounding the blaze, one of my friends drapes a blanket around my shoulders, and I slump forward. My face in my hands, I bend forward, resting my entire upper body on my thighs. This is a nightmare. No, this is worse than a nightmare.
"What happened?" I don’t know how long we’ve been here when Wes’s wary question pulls me out of my semi-catatonic state, and I untangle myself. I must’ve been in this position longer than I thought. My back is stiff, and my neck hurts like a mother when I look up at him.
"Kat."
"Come again?" Den’s mouth hangs open.
"Kat happened." I tell my friends everything, including how I fled so I wouldn’t physically assault her in my rage. With a ragged breath, I conclude, "I don’t know what to do."
"Maybe I can help with that."
The deep voice is coming from outside of the illuminated circle around the fire. The three of us spin around at the same time, and I squint, trying to make out the speaker. When a man steps into the light, I grab onto the armrest of my chair to not fall off.
"HOLY FUCK!" Wes shouts. He does fall off.
Denielle screams.
Chapter Sixteen
I stare. Wes makes a noise somewhere between wheezing and gagging while gawking up at the intruder, and Denielle continues to scream. Every time she stops to take a breath, I relish the sudden quiet—until she starts back up. If she keeps going like this, her voice is going to sound like the time Oliver, Denielle’s brother, took her and Lilly to a Bieber concert. Neither of them could get out more than a pathetic croak for days. Eventually, her cries turn into a muffled whimper.
Thank you, Jesus.
During the entire time, my eyes don’t leave him, and his focus is solely on me. My first thought is he is going to kill us. We’re as good as dead. I mean, what other purpose could a man looking like that have? I don’t think he’s much older than Dad, but whatever happened to him made him age triple-time. His skin is leathery, and in combination with the ginormous scar running over his entire face, he must’ve been through hell––and survived. I can’t look away from that jagged white line. My second, more rational thought is: why he would offer his help if he’s here to kill us?
"Where is Lilly?" Nothing else matters at the moment.
"Miss Lilly is safe."
Miss?
"Are you him?" I chalk my conversational tone up to shock. In truth, I should be shitting my pants. But weirdly enough, I’m not.
"No. He is with Miss Lilly."
There are two? Well, fuck me.
I glance sideways. Wes is still on the floor, staring at the intruder. Even in the darkness, I can see that he is white as a ghost, but the wheezing has stopped. I sure hope he doesn’t puke again. Denielle has her hands over her mouth, trying to control her sobs. Instinct takes over; I stand up and walk over to her chair. Pulling her to her feet, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She immediately latches on to my midsection and squeezes until I can barely take in a breath. I don’t tell he
r to stop, though. With Denielle tucked to my side, I lean over and extend my free hand to Wes. He slowly grabs it, pulling himself up, not looking away from the guy.
Fully upright, I let go of Wes, and with Den in the middle, we face Not Him as a united front.
When we don’t talk, he says, "I am here to rectify my mistake."
I raise my eyebrows, but Wes voices my question. "Mistake?" Some of his color has come back—potential puke crisis averted.
"We don’t know how Miss Rosenfield found you. She was not on my radar during all of this. An error on my part. I apologize."
"Apologize? Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?" Denielle has recovered as well, and her resting bitch face is in place. And thank fuck, I can breathe again. I suck in the much-needed oxygen.
"I am…"—he pauses—"the head of security."
Security for what?
"You obviously suck at your job," Wes mumbles, and Not Him, aka the head of security, trains his narrow, rodent-like eyes on my best friend, who immediately turns chalk-white again.
I can’t help but snort.
"Miss Lilly is furious. And he is not happy either. We are in the process of tracing back Miss Rosenfield’s steps to figure out what happened. In the meantime, Miss Lilly demanded that I fix this. So here I am."
I raise my hand to the base of my neck. She demanded? From him? Who would have the guts to demand anything from this guy? How can she make any demands?
As if sensing my thoughts, he amends, looking straight at me, "You will understand soon. But you have to come with me."
"WHAT?"
"HUH?"
"NO WAY! You’re not taking him anywhere." Denielle is the most articulate of us.
Scarface continues, "I am here to ensure you get your answers and talk to Miss Lilly. But only you, Mr. McGuire." His formal talking stands in complete contrast to his appearance. The scar has held my attention on his face until now. For the first time, I take in his entire person. He is decked out in full paramilitary gear of dark-gray cargo pants, tight black shirt with the matching gray cargo jacket over it, and black combat boots. I recognize the bulge on the side of his hip immediately for what it is. Growing up with my Dad, I’ve seen the getup many times.