The Academy--The Bird and the Beetle

by C. L. Stone

  The last thing I remember is being lifted.

  COALTAR

  The sound of a car driving somewhere below me, on the street, had me feeling like I was back at the hotel. My throat felt itchy. I worried about getting Wil sick with a cold when he had tests coming up.

  When I woke enough to realize the bed felt different, I suddenly remembered Marc. Was I supposed to be in his bed? Or with Corey? Or...

  I flipped over, willing my body to move when it felt stiff and sore, especially at my throat. I blinked hazily at the ceiling, disoriented.

  The ceiling struck me funny. Did one of the boys have carved woodwork edging?

  Didn’t I shoot someone in the knee? With a .303 rifle?

  I sat up with a jolt, looking around. The bed was plush, with crisp white sheets and blanket, and a rich black wood headboard. There was a thick black rug under the bed, and the floors beyond it were a dark cherry wood.

  As the details of the room sunk in, and a memory didn’t surface that told me why I was here, I panicked. Where the hell was I?

  The spot next to me was unmade. I reached over to feel the coolness of the pillow, and the indention in it. Someone else had been here.

  I was wearing the same black shirt and shorts I’d had on the night before. The sleeve had been torn, reminding me of the struggle in the alley. My heart thundered at the memory, but I needed to focus.

  Beside the bed was an overstuffed chair, appearing to have been moved close so I’d notice. There was a black tank top and pair of shorts similar to what I was wearing splayed out. Different, though. The label at the neck of the shirt said International Concepts. Definitely not a Wal-Mart brand, which was about the extent of my knowledge about clothing labels.

  I held my breath, listening. I couldn’t hear anything. The fact that someone had been here beside me made me want to pinpoint whoever it was within the building.

  I jumped from the bed, going to the window. I studied the street, trying to figure out where I was.

  I spotted a familiar bench within eyesight down the road and White Point Gardens behind it. I calculated the distance.

  Shit.

  Maybe I could get out of here without Coaltar noticing. The guys thought I was too close before? I was neck deep now.

  I looked around for shoes, but there weren’t any available. My boots were gone. I grunted. I really liked those boots. I hated the thought of leaving them. But I wasn’t going to start looking around.

  I padded to the door. It was open and all I had to do was nudge it a couple of inches to give myself enough room to step out.

  The hallway was narrow, and there were a lot of doors. I spotted the start of the stairwell at the end of the hall. I stilled, listening. Silence.

  I stepped forward and the floorboards creaked below my weight. This is why I never broke into houses. Wasn’t my style to sneak around like that.

  More creaking sounded behind me, like someone moving in a room further down the hall. It was all I needed to know.

  I zoomed down the hall, not caring about being heard, as long as I had a head start and he couldn’t get in my way. I thundered down the stairs, found a second level, zoomed down to the first.

  I was at the back door, where the party had been. I took a turn, finding the hallway I remembered going through toward the front door. The coast was clear. I dashed down the hall. My heart slammed against my rib cage. I was going to make it!

  A form launched from a side door as I started to pass. I was caught in a pair of strong arms, and I had been running so hard that we both tilted. He gripped my waist protectively, holding me up and catching us both with one hand hard on the floor before his elbow crumbled and we crashed.

  I knocked my head into his shoulder, getting a jolt of pain between my eyes as the bump there resounded. I cried out, and started clawing away in a panic. I closed a fist, punching him hard in the temple. He grabbed my wrist.

  My body was twisted, and he pressed his full weight on me. His knees bit down tight against my thighs. He pinned my wrists to the ground. I was uneven on my side, unable to move under his weight.

  “Kate!” Coaltar shouted. “Calm down.”

  “Let go!” I choked, and then coughed hard. I was forced to stop fighting. I twisted my face away from him, a hacking cough taking over.

  His knees moved. He kept both of my wrists in one hand, grabbing my body with his other arm. In a near flip, his arm encircled my shoulders in a headlock, with my arms pinned behind me. He lifted me with him and sat up, with my back pressed into his chest. His lips found the back of my ear.

  “Breathe,” he said, his voice raspy. “Kate, calm down and breathe.”

  I wanted to tell him off but my throat wasn’t going to let me. I coughed once more, and started sucking down air. Him sitting me up had helped for the moment. The air stung my throat but it was what I needed.

  “I’m going to let you go,” Coaltar said.

  I shifted, squirming, resisting against his grip.

  His arms hardened around me, tightening enough to threaten to cut off my air again. “Nu uh. I’ll let go when you promise not to run off. And you tell me what you were doing following me, and trying to take on a team of gang members singlehanded.”

  “You’re going to let me go,” I wheezed out. “And I’m going to walk out that door and...”

  His arms tightened a little more, cutting off my air briefly. “Don’t go getting your feathers all ruffled. You’re going to get yourself killed walking in neighborhoods like that.”

  I wedged an arm out from his hold and swatted at his in response, unable to do much but try to breathe slowly and not cough. When panic mode subsided, I was simply angry. Probably more hurt that I was caught, but then if he hadn’t come for me back in that alleyway, I would have ended up dead in the gutter.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, the syrup thickening in his Southern accent. “I wouldn’t normally wrestle a girl in my house. At least not like this.”

  I tried to twist, but with his arm around me and his strong body at my back, it was difficult, and I’d lost what energy I had.

  “I’m going to let go,” he said. “But if you try to run, I’ll run after you. And not to be arrogant, but I think I’m faster.”

  He slowly eased his arm from around my chest. I sucked in air. When he let go enough that I could move, I launched myself to get away from him, scooting across the floor on my butt and backing up. I planted a hand at my throat, feeling the tender spots.

  He knelt in front of me, holding his hands out. “Don’t run,” he said. “Do you need help? Do you need a doctor?”

  I stilled, unsure. All I had to go on about him was what the boys tried to warn me about. Still, he could have left me back in the alley. He could have called the cops on me. Instead he brought me back. He didn’t remove my clothes when he could have, considering I was unconscious. If he was a bad guy, he really sucked at it.

  I shook my head. I didn’t need a doctor.

  He inched closer. I backed up a foot until I was pressed against the far wall

  He stopped. “Easy,” he said, still holding his hands out toward me. “Easy, sugar.” He wiped his fingers across his mouth. His brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “Okay, listen.” He pointed down the hall. “There’s a kitchen that way. Now I’m not a cook, but I make a pretty decent cup of coffee. Or would you want water?”

  At the thought of water, I stiffened. I desperately needed it and was reluctant to say so. I didn’t want to accept anything from him.

  “Just come talk to me,” he said. He lifted one of his knees and planted a foot on the floor and inched forward again. He held his arms out as if to offer me help up. “Come on, Kate.”

  I tried not to flinch at the name. I moved my feet until I was steady enough to rise, using the wall as a balance. He got up in the same slow movement. His arm stretched out, not touching. He just hovered over my arm, the other hand motioning the way.

  I allow
ed him to guide me down the hallway, toward the rear stairs. He edged me through an archway. He encouraged me through a dining room and onward until we got to a set of swinging double doors. He moved ahead of me, pressing his back to one of the doors and pushing it open.

  The kitchen was as big as the boys’ apartments, probably both of them together. There was another smaller table near a wall by the window. The counters were a smooth blue marble and the walls were white and blue tile. The fridge, and duo stoves were black, new, huge. How many people lived here? Was all this for him?

  He backed his way to the fridge, opening it, there was a collection of bottles of water inside among a variety of other foods stacked in tidy rows. He picked up a water bottle, opening it and held it out to me. “Here,” he said.

  I reached for it. His fingers brushed against mine as he passed it to me. I locked eyes with him. The gold flecks glinted. I took a quick sip. When the water splashed against my throat, it seemed to absorb it in seconds. I swallowed half the bottle before I took a breath.

  His lips cocked into a sly smile. “There’s more,” he said.

  I took another drink, swallowing thickly, forcing myself to calm down. If he was going to hurt me, he would have already.

  He stilled, seeming to relax his shoulders. He wore a dark gray collared shirt with two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to almost his elbows, and the bottom hem was wrinkled and skewed, probably from when we were fighting. The jeans he wore were a darker gray and he was barefoot. His blond hair was mussed on the side.

  The handsome sight sent my heart racing again. A guilt weighed on me about it, but I forced it back into a small crevice of my brain. He was supposed to be the bad guy I needed to stay away from, but I could enjoy the view while I was here, right? At any rate, he didn’t give off the bad guy vibe like I’d expected, although there was something off about him.

  He seemed to understand that I wasn’t going to run like I’d intended to before. He waved me on toward the door again. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s sit and talk about this.”

  He showed me to a back room, where a collection of plush white couches surrounded a television and a stereo system. There was a wide open window that let in light. There wasn’t a coaster or a magazine left on the wood and glass coffee table. The spectacularly large television screen was clear of streaks and was angled perfectly to not get a glare from the wide window. I didn’t have to look, but could imagine the underside of the couch didn’t have a single dust bunny. Untouchable. I wanted to lick my hand and pat the coffee table to make a smudge.

  He gestured to the couch. I sat in the middle, with my feet flat on the floor at first. It was an awkward pose and I lifted my feet, forgetting propriety and drew my knees to my chest to be more comfortable. It was also a good way to be ready to launch myself up and running in case this didn’t go well.

  Coaltar lowered himself beside me, easing to sit against the cushion. His arm stretched across the cushion behind my back. The open part of his shirt curled back a bit, revealing more of the collarbone and threatened to distract me. It almost worked until his eyes demanded my attention. “Okay, Kate. Tell me why you were following me.”

  I swallowed hard again, pressing the water bottle to my throat, letting the cool condensation soothe. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  His lips curled up. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Why do you walk in shady parts of town in the middle of the night?”

  His head cocked, but he kept his eyes on me. “Why did you?”

  “I was curious,” I said.

  “Maybe I was, too,” he said. “Maybe I wanted to see how far you were willing to follow me.”

  Touché. I stared at him and he stared back. We weren’t getting anywhere with each other bluffing.

  “There’s a rumor going around about you,” I said.

  His eyebrow lifted. “There’s all sorts of rumors about me. Why don’t you fill me in on which one you’ve been hearing about.”

  I was this far. May as well go for broke. “Someone said you’re talking to gang members in the city. There’s people who are worried you’re into drugs, or guns, or doing something weird.”

  His lips parted and he stared intently at me a moment. Those golden flecks glinted with amusement. “That’s a new one. So you go off half-cocked and thought following me all the way down to that run-down neighborhood was a good idea?”

  “I just wanted to see if it was true.”

  He sat back, his eyes darting between mine as if trying to decide if I was serious. “Why?”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t have a camera,” he said. “You didn’t have anything on you. Nothing to collect evidence, no weapon to protect yourself. You’re not police. You’re a little too young to be a detective. What drove you?”

  “Curiosity.”

  His smile strengthened. “Don’t tell me we’re playing this game again.”

  “No, really,” I said. “There’s a...” Only I couldn’t say it. I didn’t know anything about the Academy. I couldn’t betray the guys after what they’d done for me and Wil. “Word got around to some of my friends, who happen to be ... informants for the FBI.”

  “Do go on,” he said, though his amused look didn’t fade. “So they sent you?”

  “They’d been following you. I just thought...”

  “You were trying to get one up on them,” he said. There was a slyness to the way his gaze settled on me then. His eyes pinched at the corners and his lips tightened at the edges. “I ticked off that boyfriend enough that you got into an argument, and you wanted to show him up by being the first to witness me doing something I shouldn’t be.”

  I realized I made a mistake being too honest. I pinned Brandon as an informant. It was bad enough I was at risk of getting myself killed if he was a drug dealer. It was another to involve the boys. “He’s not part of it. I just borrowed him for the night. I actually met him that day.”

  “He was pretty jealous for someone on a first date.”

  “I think he’s the jealous type.”

  He smiled, lifting his hand to run through his dirty blond locks a couple of times before sliding his thumb across his lower lip once. “You’ve got to be the worst little spy I’ve ever come across.”

  “You run into them often?”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Now, now, don’t go thinking that. Anyone with more than a barrel of money around here gets followed in one way or another, by crooks or cops who think you’re a crook.”

  “Actually,” I said, “it doesn’t matter either way to me.”

  “Oh?”

  I shrugged. Maybe I should play good cop. “If you aren’t, makes my job easier, I think. I clear your name, they become disinterested and move on to someone else.”

  “Ah.” He shook a finger at me. “See? For now you’d be satisfied. But the next time I go to some no-name place around the globe and come back in the night, or talk to someone even remotely shady, someone else is going to be wondering what I’m up to. It’s a never-ending cycle. They want you to walk naked in the street to make sure you aren’t up to something, and then they want to arrest you for public indecency.”

  “Life for the rich must be crazy tough,” I said, unable to curb my tongue.

  He leaned in, his hand lowering until it was almost hovering over my shoulder, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his fingers. I sensed he was testing me to see how close he could get. “See, why does it have to be like that? You act like I’m the bad guy, but you’re the one that walked into my home, crashed my party, and stalked me like a teenager following a boy band. Do you get people breaking into your home and wanting to know all your dirty little secrets?”

  Yes. “Maybe.”

  He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Maybe you do. Most people don’t. Maybe it’s just you and I are the lucky ones.”

  I removed the bottle from my neck to take another sip of water. His smile falter
ed, and his gaze lowered from my face.

  “Sweetie,” he said. He reached for my neck.

  I let him. I don’t know why, but like Raven and the others, I sensed that he wouldn’t really hurt me.

  His fingertips traced along my skin. There was a coolness to his touch at first, but it warmed quickly. He smoothed over the corner of my neck. I winced as he got to a sore spot. “You’re bruised,” he said. His fingers slid down, following to my collarbone. I bit back a shiver and turned my head away. He hooked a finger at the material, pulling it back to expose my shoulder. “Baby doll, you’ve got bruises all over.”

  “Huh,” I said in a tone suggesting that I wasn’t surprised.

  His eyes narrowed. “And these are older. Who’s doing this to you?”

  “No one.”

  “Kate,” he said, stronger and determined for an answer.

  I flinched, and smacked his hand away. Between Raven and the other boys, and then my own father, I had all kinds of bruises, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He wouldn’t understand. “I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to do you a favor.”

  He smirked. “Some favor. Next time I’ll let you carry me home and then I’ll wrestle you on my way out the door.”

  My eyes flared. “You—”

  “Wait.” He dropped a finger across my lips, cutting me off. “Hang on, sugar. Let’s not start this again. I’m sorry. Okay? Let’s try to get along for a minute here.”

  I glared at him, but stilled, trying to control my breathing. I was flying off the handle. Probably because I was hungry. And my throat hurt. This was the same problem I had with Marc and the others. I needed to stop before I got myself killed. Or worse, got the cops called on me.

  He released my lips and his palm cupped my jaw. His fingers rubbed at a tender spot behind my earlobe. It was a slick move, but his fingers were incredibly skillful, picking just the right delicate area to stroke. It relaxed me incredibly. “All right, I’ll let you in on what I’m up to. But you have to promise not to tell them exactly what I’m doing. What I do is my business, but you can tell them I’m not up to anything evil. Would that work to satisfy their curiosity?”