when I didn’t answer, because there was none. “I don’t know, but it was a prank, obviously a really bad one, but that’s all it was.”
I squeezed his hand back, but the knot below my ribs had sprouted a bunch more as I glanced over my shoulder, back at the school. Deep down, call it instinct or good old paranoia, but I knew that mask wasn’t just a prank.
And maybe neither was the cardinal.
#
“What to try something different?”
I nodded as Jensen’s arms slipped from around mine, and he stepped back as I faced him. We’d been practicing the whole bear hug thing again, and I was pretty sure I got it, but according to Jensen practice made perfect. “What?”
Wearing nylon blue sweats and a white shirt that would’ve looked average on anyone else, he looked like a young celebrity caught leaving the gym. He brushed a lock of light brown hair off his forehead and grinned. Immediately, I was suspicious.
“Want to hit me?” he asked.
A surprised laugh escaped me. “What?”
“Hit me.” He walked to where I stood and then laughed as I gaped at him. “Not every attacker is going to come from behind you. Some are going to come right at you and you said you wanted to know how to fight, you’ve got to know where to hit.”
“Oh.” I popped my hands on my hips. “So kicking a guy in the balls and running isn’t the best method?”
Jensen winced. “That would work, too, but I’m sure you’d want a little more in your bag of tricks.”
I grinned, surprised by how relaxed I was. One would think this kind of class would be stressful, but since we’d begun, I hadn’t thought about what happened with my locker or the nightmare I’d had last night. There really was something empowering in making a conscious decision to protect myself
“I want to see what kind of punch you pack,” he continued. “And don’t worry about hurting me. I can take—”
Cocking back my arm, I punched him in the stomach. Dull pain lanced over my knuckles as I drew my hand back, shaking my fingers, and damn if his hard stomach didn’t give one centimeter, but surprise did widen his eyes.
“How was that?” I asked, massaging away the twinge in my shoulder.
He tipped his head back and laughed. “You hit like a girl.”
I scowled at him. “Well, I am a girl in case you’ve forgotten.”
Lowering his chin, his gaze started at the tip of my bare feet and slowly made its way up to my lips. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Trust me.”
My frown slipped away, and I had no idea what to say to that, because I felt like the kind of girl who would break out in a fit of giggles at any given moment around him.
“Nah, you actually did pretty good and I’m honestly just pretending that didn’t hurt because it did, but you’re throwing a punch wrong.” He moved so that he stood behind me. “You have to throw from your stomach—not your arm. Doing it the wrong way is a sure-fire way of injuring yourself. See?” He placed his fingers on my right shoulder, over the tight muscles. “Aches, doesn’t it?”
I started to tell him it wasn’t that bad, because it really wasn’t, but the tips of his fingers pressed into my shoulder. Holy Cracker Jack, he hit the right spot. Like the kind of spot I didn’t even know existed. My back arched as he moved his thumb in a tight circle. He moved closer, until the front of his leg brushed the back of mine. Warm breath danced along my neck, sending shivers skipping across my skin.
“I heard about the mask in your locker,” he said after a few moments.
I tensed. “How… how did you hear about that?” He hadn’t been around when it happened.
“Brock texted me.” His other hand rose to my opposite shoulder, and I bit down on my lower lip to stop a sound that I would’ve been mortified over. “He said someone had hung it up in there.”
I kept my eyes peeled open, refusing to see that empty mask.
He continued to move his thumbs, loosening the muscles that had tensed. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Whoever did it is a dumbass.”
A heartbeat passed. “You… you think it was a prank?”
His fingers stilled only for a moment. “What else could it be?”
I didn’t answer, because voicing my suspicions out loud gave voice to how absurd they sounded.
“Ella?”
“Nothing,” I said, turning my head slightly. “I was just… thinking out loud.”
Jensen fell quiet after that, and my muscles had long since loosened, but his magic fingers kept doing their thing. I wasn’t sure how long he kept at it, but my skin felt toasty.
“Better?” he asked, voice gruff as his hand slid down my side.
Jelly had replaced my muscles. “Yeah.”
He cleared his throat as he shifted behind me, putting some space between our bodies as he rested one hand against the center of my stomach. I jerked at the contact. “Easy,” he murmured, stirring the soft strands of hair at my temple. “Move your arm back—your right arm, like you’re about to throw a punch.”
I did what he asked, and his fingers splayed across my stomach.
“Now move your arm like you’re hitting someone, but use your stomach to turn—to put the power behind the throw.”
Biting down on my lip and forcing myself to concentrate, I did as he said, which turned out to be incorrect. Jensen took my left hand and placed it where his hand on my stomach had been and then he gripped my hips.
Oh dear.
A tremble coursed down my legs. When I threw my next punch, he tilted my hips, and I finally got what he was saying. And I got a whole lot of other things that had nothing to do with his training. My imagination face planted the gutter.
We went through the motion a couple more times, taking longer than necessary, probably because I wasn’t all that focused. When we finally broke apart and I turned toward him, my face felt like I’d been sunbathing during a solar storm.
His eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, shaded by thick, dark lashes, and I averted my gaze before I did something stupid, like tell him he had beautiful eyes.
“Want to get something to eat?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard, drawing my wide gaze back to his.
An uneven grin appeared. “Based on the way you’re staring at me, I’m going to either go with you didn’t hear me or it’s a resounding no.”
“It’s just that you haven’t shown me where I should be hitting someone.”
“I know.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I fiddled with the edge of my ponytail. “Okay. I thought we’d do that today. It’s still pretty early.”
“And that’s why I asked if you wanted something to eat.” He swaggered up to me, and I held my breath. He reached out, caught my fingers and gently pulled them away from my hair. “You didn’t eat much at lunch today.” His gaze flicked away when my brows rose. “You were dropping off your tray. Half your food was still there.”
“You noticed that?”
His gaze bounced back to mine. “I always notice you.”
Again, I was struck absolutely speechless.
“And I’m actually attempting to delay my training sessions with you. You know, string them out so I have a reason for monopolizing your free time.” Dropping my hair, he grinned at my dumbfounded expression. “You’re surprised. Don’t even try to say you’re not. You’ve never been able to keep what you’re thinking off your face.”
Jensen touched my injured cheek that was almost completely healed with the tips of his warm fingers. “I always liked that about you.”
I raised my gaze and our eyes locked. So many things rose to the tip of my tongue. Lots of questions. He’d said he wanted to be friends, but he was awful touchy to be considered that, and there was more to it, in the way he did touch me, how he looked at me, even the way he spoke.
But Gavin’s warning from the day before was never too far from my thoughts. Jensen had broken my heart once before, and that’s why he was so dangerous for me, be
cause that was the last thing I wanted to experience again.
My heart didn’t have control over me, though. It wasn’t like grabbing something to eat was a declaration of undying love or that I would think too much into it. “Okay.”
His lips curved into a sexy smile. “Good.”
Feeling a little out of it due to the change of plans, I left to slip on my shoes and grab my bag that I had brought in with me. The nervous hum of energy was back, whizzing through me like a hyper hummingbird.
Jensen locked up and as we stepped out in the hall, he draped his arm over my shoulder. The light citrusy scent of his cologne enveloped me. I clenched the strap on my bag, telling myself this was completely normal behavior. Gavin did it all the time.
“Relax,” he murmured directly into my ear. “I’m not going to bite you or something.”
Apparently, I wasn’t acting like this was normal behavior.
“Unless you’re into that,” he added in a low voice.
My head snapped toward his, and I sucked in a breath at how close our mouths were. His was tipped into a mischievous grin.
“That was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it?” His thumb moved along my upper arm.
My lips twitched. “It was pretty cheesy. Also kind of creepy. Makes me think of a zombie.”
“So, if I’m trying to get a beautiful girl to relax around me, offering to take a little bite out of them isn’t going to win me any points.”
“Probably not,” I said, and I started to smile, but his head tilted in a way that lined our mouths up. If he just lowered his head a few more inches, well, we’d definitely be doing a lot of things friends did not do.
As he continued to stare down at me, something shifted in Jensen, like it had when we sat on the couch. The playfulness was still there, but the muscles in his arm tensed, and with a little coaxing, he drew me closer. Maybe an inch or two separated our bodies. I felt a little dizzy staring into his eyes.
“Well, I’m going to have to come up with something else,” he murmured lazily.
“Like what?”
“Hmm…” His chin dropped another inch. So close. “Maybe a milkshake.”
I laughed. “A milkshake?”
“Yeah. The diner across from here? They have awesome milkshakes. And cheese sandwiches.”
My stomach grumbled. “I love me some grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“I know.”
That was sweet. “I think I like where this is—”
A throat cleared. I drew back, glancing toward the entrance to the building. Deputy Jordan stood there, his form blotting out the light streaming in from the doors behind him.
Unease blossomed in the pit of my stomach. The look on his face was hard. Not like the friendly expression Shaw had worn yesterday. He was working.
Jensen’s arm slipped off my back, but he moved closer, slightly in front of me. “What’s going on, Shaw?”
The casual way he spoke to the deputy told me he had some kind of relationship with the guy. Then it struck me. Shaw had remembered me from… from before, which probably meant he’d remembered Jensen. Had they stayed in contact all these years? Or did Jensen remember that Shaw was Gavin’s older cousin?
Shaw strode forward. “I need to talk to Ella.”
“Why?” he asked, moving so he entirely blocked my body from the cop’s.
Having no idea what was causing this response, and not wanting him to get in trouble, I stepped aside, meeting the deputy’s dark gaze. “What’s going on?”
Shaw stopped in front of us. “I have some questions I need to ask after the most recent event.”
“Most recent?” I glanced at Jensen and then the deputy, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Surprise flitted across his face. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Jensen asked, stiffening.
Shaw scratched his jaw. “Well, hell, I thought you would’ve heard by now. Monica Graham is missing.”
Chapter 9
In a daze, I followed Deputy Jordan into some kind of meeting room off the main hall of the warehouse that smelled of burnt coffee. By the thin layer of dust on the brown table, the room hadn’t been in use for a while. Jensen sat beside me in an uncomfortable metal folding chair.
“She was last seen yesterday evening, visiting a friend’s house after cheerleading practice,” Deputy Shaw explained. “She’d left her friend’s house in her car, but she didn’t return home last night, and no one has heard from her since. Normally, missing person reports aren’t filed within twenty-four hours, but in light of the recent events, we don’t want to wait.”
I thought of Vee Bartol, who would be missing three weeks come this Saturday, and then I thought of how ragged Wendy had looked this morning, which could’ve explained her appearance. Monica’s parents had probably contacted Wendy last night, and she’d been more concerned about her friend than how she looked.
Now I felt bad for how I thought of her this morning.
“God,” I said, because I didn’t know what to say. “You really think she’s missing? That she didn’t just go somewhere?” After I said that, I realized how stupid that sounded. What seventeen- or eighteen-year-old just up and left?
Shaw shook his head as he leaned back, the vest under his shirt creaking. Perched on the edge of the table, he folded his hands in his lap as he stared down at us. “It’s not impossible.”
“But, unlikely. God, this is terrible.”
Jensen’s hand found mine under the table. After threading his fingers around mine, he squeezed gently. “It is terrible, and I don’t mean to sound like a total jackass.”
A wry grin formed on Shaw’s lips. “But knowing you, you’re going to anyway.”
So they really, really did know each other.
“What does this have to do with Ella?” he asked, looking Shaw dead on.
My heart turned over as I met Shaw’s steady gaze. “It’s because of the attack Saturday night? The police think it’s related to Monica’s disappearance?”
“We have the state, county, and city departments involved in this,” answered Shaw. “We’re chasing down any possible lead we could have, which leads me to you.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s unlikely that what happened to you has anything to do with Monica’s disappearance, but I think it’s smart to check out every possible avenue.”
“That makes sense,” I whispered.
“So we’re taking everything into consideration, and I know you’ve already given your statement to the state police, but if you could walk me through what happened, it might shine some light on what’s going on now. It might give us some answers. And maybe, if this does have anything to do with what happened to you, it could help Monica.”
Jensen’s grip on my hand tightened as he leaned forward. “Is it really necessary for her to go through that again?”
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but if talking about Saturday could help Monica, then I could deal with it. “It’s okay,” I said, taking a deep breath, preparing myself. “I can do this.”
Jensen looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t stop me as I began to tell my story. It wasn’t easy, because it was all too real, too fresh, and I wasn’t sure if a day would ever come that it didn’t feel that way. I pulled my hand free from his hold and wrapped my arms around my stomach, stopping the chill that kept racing up and down my spine. When I got to the part where I’d been able to get free, Shaw was listening with rapt attention, not missing a single detail, and Jensen reached under the table, placing a comforting hand on my knee. The contact grounded me in reality, in the right now.
“And then…” I glanced over at Jensen, who was watching me closely. “And then I remember Jensen picking me up and… and that’s it.”
Shaw nodded slowly. “And there was absolutely no way you saw his face or any distinguishing characteristics?”
I shook my head as my shoulders slumped. “The mask and
wig
The Dead List Page 12