Threshold of Danger (A Guardian Time Travel Novel Book 1)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  What do we know about this boy?

  He put his board to the concrete and followed, the gentle glide of wheels against the surface a soothing rhythm that had been a part of his life from the moment he could walk.

  "As much as I enjoy your visits, you can't keep showing up here, Ricky."

  While he'd known this was where they were headed, the words still hit him in the gut. The urge to disagree reared up. He pushed it back. Right now he had to focus on the girl. "I figured it's more appropriate than showing up at your house."

  "People are starting to question your appearances." Her voice was quiet, her eyes centered on the people around them. An old man walking his poodle. A woman with her twins in a stroller across the street.

  The second time he'd shown up, she'd questioned him. If he was lost. Where his parents were. He'd followed her around on his skateboard and cracked jokes until she relaxed.

  The last thing Sam would want to do was call the police like Lucinda had suggested. It was the last thing he wanted, too. His mom was a cop. And while she knew his exact location at this present time, she wouldn't like the idea of him causing trouble. And she certainly wouldn't be happy about dealing with Lucinda. "She's wrong, you know."

  Those gray eyes hit him. "Who's wrong?"

  "Miss Lucinda and her advice." All of it. "It's like math homework."

  Sam stopped, one brow rising. "You shouldn't eavesdrop."

  He rolled to a stop right in front of her. "I can't help that you guys don't talk quietly." He flicked his board up. Leaned on it. His one chance started here.

  No. It had started in the office. When he'd showed up. When he'd asked Lucinda to get Sam. When he'd prayed her hesitation—her glance between her phone and him—would pass. "Teachers always want you to show your work so they know you aren't cheating."

  "Or so they know you can actually understand the problem."

  "That too. But some kids know the answer, the problem gets solved inside their minds—" He pointed his index finger toward his temple. "As simple as breathing. There's nothing to show."

  Sam stared at him. The wind blew around her chestnut-colored hair. She licked her lips. "Are you skipping school? Do your parents know where you are? Am I going to have your mom sobbing on the phone and your dad on my doorstep sometime soon?"

  Ricky fought the urge to laugh. "No, yes, and no. Are you going to need to talk to my mom like you did last time?"

  Sam didn't say anything for a minute. Then, "Maybe we should meet in person this time."

  He shrugged. He'd only caught a bit of flak for the first and only time Sam and his mom had spoken. "Already told you. My mom isn't the sobbing type and my dad's not really much into yelling. Now silence—that you gotta worry about."

  Ricky knew she could relate with the way the Colonel always withheld words until he had something to say. Something that needed to be said and even then he waited. Made a person come up with their own conclusions—right or wrong. A screwed up test of wills. Ricky didn't understand it. Doubted he ever would.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why aren't you in school on a Monday?"

  Ricky smiled. "Because it's June."

  "It wasn't June when you showed up last month."

  Nope. "Parent-teacher conference week."

  The look on her face told him she didn't believe anything he said. It only stung a little. He'd never lied to her. Not about his visits.

  "The time before that?"

  "Spring break." He laughed. Couldn't help it. "We gonna do this all day or do I have to show you my school schedule and excused absence list?"

  She sighed. Started moving again. "You can't just run around by yourself. It's dangerous. There are people out there who—"

  "Sam." His board hit the ground in a thud as he followed. She didn't get it. She couldn't. And he could never tell her. He was well acquainted with danger.

  "I'm serious." Her arms slashed the air. "If something happened out here, how long would it take for your parents to know?"

  "Immediately." He pulled out a smart phone. Wiggled it in her direction—cracked screen and all. A fact he'd gotten scolded for.

  Responsibility, Son.

  He hadn't been about to admit it had gotten cracked during the fiasco last year with Sam. Have them questioning his outings. Instead, his punishment had been dealing with the glass spiderweb across his texts. The slow chipping of the material at the corners.

  Her eyes hit the device, her lips forming a firm line.

  He needed to speed this up. "Can we move on now?"

  "Maybe." A small wince covered her face as she took a step.

  "How's the leg?"

  She froze for a millisecond. Like no one ever mentioned it. Like they never asked. Like she never wanted them to.

  Of course she didn't. To her the injury was a reminder of failure. Failure wasn't an option. You couldn't reason with it. Couldn't change it. Didn't talk about it or accept it.

  It just was.

  "Pretty good, considering." Sam forced the words out on the same even and light tone she'd been using.

  But it conjured the instant memory. Blood. Chaos. Confusion. Anger. A whole heaping lot of fire. Fire so hot it had almost incinerated everything in an old historic part of Fresno.

  They'd never discussed the events or anything related. He should've brought it up. Known there wasn't anyone she would talk to about the incident. Known Smell-iot wasn't going to lend an ear.

  The idiot.

  She turned to him. "How's your noggin?"

  "Dented." He brushed back his brown hair. Revealed a scar about an inch long—one that had been there prior to last summer. He'd showed it to her before the warehouse. When it had been fresh, just to try and gross her out. "Severely. Pretty sure you messed up my chances for Ivy League."

  She rolled her eyes. "Somehow I doubt that. Nice try."

  Ricky had been in a lot of hairy situations, but last summer with Sam took the cake. He'd never seen a fire rage so quickly. Never watched a building fall under the lapping flames. Never been so worried someone wouldn't make it to the next morning or been so angry when neither the Colonel nor Sam's sister had sat with her very long at the hospital.

  At least the Colonel had shown up. And even though he'd said little to Sam, he'd at least been sober. Unlike Haley, who had been drunk. Not in her right mind.

  When a family should've been coming together, they didn't. Maybe they never had. Ricky didn't know how to fix that, but he could fix something else. He could save a life.

  He could prove to Sam that what happened last summer was not how the rest of her life needed to be. She was doing the right thing—saving lives.

  "There's something you've gotta see."

  She was already shaking her head. Worried about the Colonel. Worried about working with Smell-iot. Concerned about a mess of things she could never change. It swam in her gray eyes. "Now isn't the best time."

  "It's about your case with Smell-iot."

  "Wow." A smile jerked the edge of her lips. She cleared her throat and it disappeared. "That's rude. Not very gentlemanly."

  "He's an idiot. Why defend him?"

  "It's not so much about defense as it is manners. You sound like the idiot when you talk like that. What's your deal, anyway?"

  He folded his arms in front of his chest. Ricky had lots of issues with Elliot Knight. Ninety percent of them stemmed from last summer. "He's an idiot. What kind of man leaves a woman to fend for herself in a dangerous situation?"

  She nodded. Pulled out her cell phone. "You know, you're right. Let's call him and tell him that. Hey, Elliot, you're an idiot, your partner thought she knew best. Turned out she was wrong, we didn't have all the information, and you both almost died. Thanks for the quick thinking in a situation that was doomed."

  What? When she'd been in trouble Elliot was nowhere around. "Come on, you can't tell me—"

  "You're right. I can't tell you. I'm not going to. Because you're eleven. You should
be horsing around with your friends. Discovering cool skate parks. Flipping tricks with your board. Not following a grown woman into danger."

  Sure. If he were a normal eleven-year-old. But he wasn't. And it didn't bother him. This was where he was meant to be. Doing stuff that meant something. The half pipe would always be there for a rainy day. "You're welcome, I guess."

  Sam shook her head. "When you get older you'll understand that part of being an adult also includes taking responsibility for your actions. And this one is on me. Not Elliot."

  He was still peeved. "I bet you've never even talked about it."

  Her lips formed a firm line. "No point in rehashing the past."

  There was plenty of point. He could fill a notebook with the reasons why. "There is if there's something you need to talk about."

  "I don't need to talk about it."

  Irritation hummed through him. Being a kid was the worst. "You're exasperating."

  "That goes both ways."

  Fine. He shook his head. "So your case."

  "We just discussed this. You're eleve—"

  "A woman was found dead five months ago. Her oldest daughter disappeared with her, but has never been found. The father was so upset that he came to Hope Alive. Specifically requested you and Sm—"

  Sam shot him a look.

  He swallowed. "Elliot."

  She glanced down at her shoulder bag as if it had details written all over it. "And you'd know about this how?"

  Oh, man. This was his shot. "Same way I knew about the warehouse last year."

  Wariness stole into her eyes.

  He'd managed to move her farther from the flames quickly devouring the building. But not out, because they'd been surrounded. By flames. By three men. By Sam's convictions and her need to save a life at all costs.

  She'd been cornered and surrounded, her backup—Elliot—not even in the vicinity. Ricky had tried to catch a glimpse of Theo Trenton. Figure out where he was and drag him to safety if needed. All he could do was protect Sam and not much else.

  Then he'd had to leave her with Elliot who would want to know how she had gotten out with the odds stacked against her. And why she went in to begin with.

  Ricky understood it all. Would Elliot? "Why don't you explain everything, Sam?"

  Things would go one of two ways, and while everything inside of him wanted to show up on Elliot's front step and teach him a thing or two about Samantha, he had to have faith.

  His mom and dad were always saying the phrase like it was a magical thing that happened. Yeah, faith. Sure. There were no fairies dusting confetti over the world's problems.

  Faith was work. Faith was waiting for a United States Air Force pilot to wake up and remember everything.

  A shadow fell across her face. She shook her head, her gaze wandering toward something in the distance. "That's not possible."

  There was a lot of cool stuff associated with time travel, but this—watching Sam kill herself over one moment in time—was not one of them. He might be eleven, but he wasn't stupid. "If I can understand it, I'm sure any idiot could."

  "It's complicated."

  He understood that. Big time. Because he'd been a tenth of a second too late last summer. And that tenth of a second haunted him. It took him from the easygoing world of slingshots and absorptions to living in constant anxiety, carefully calculating every move.

  It would define him forever. He already knew that. And he hated it, but there was no changing it. No reversing time and hoping for a better outcome. There were no guarantees. There was only opportunity to right the wrongs.

  "I know you're busy. I know you're trying to find Elliot and change his mind about that case. Hear me out. Please."

  She stared at him for what seemed an eternity where he prayed she wouldn't say no. She couldn't. Everything else had been set in motion. Sam was the final piece of the puzzle.

  "You've got five minutes."

  CHAPTER THREE

  ELLIOT KNIGHT DIDN'T have time for this.

  What he had was exactly the amount of time allotted for a three mile run, a shower, and a quick breakfast before he had to head to the 144th Air National Guard Base for a briefing.

  Instead of the exercise that helped him clear his head, he had two missed calls from Hope Alive headquarters and a giant problem in the form of the sleeping woman on his living room couch.

  Currently, she was curled under a souvenir Air Force throw blanket his grandmother had sent him a few years back for Christmas—the only thing visible the top of her dark hair.

  The first time he'd found Haley Billings in his home, there had been a plethora of empty liquor bottles, vomit, and a smell that he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever get out of the carpet. She'd been completely unresponsive. He'd rushed her to the hospital only to find that this strange woman was none other than the elusive sister that Hope Alive operative Samantha Billings mentioned from time to time.

  Elliot had been stuck ever since. With a responsibility he didn't want but couldn't ignore. His childhood had been built on helping people. That had transferred into adulthood. It was hardwired into his DNA. Anything else felt wrong.

  Thankfully, where there had been bottles last time, a pair of heels rested. A small purse. A pile of...clothing.

  Yeah. He definitely didn't have time for this. He glanced at his watch. If he left now he could get in two miles and skip breakfast.

  He ran a hand down his face. Glared at the woman on the couch who had been showing up at random intervals. He couldn't go about his day and leave her here. Not with the high possibility that she was inebriated beyond belief and had only hidden it better this time.

  Because it would be his fault if anything happened. Her family would never forgive him. The Colonel would stand by in stoic silence while Sam...

  Her chestnut-colored hair and gray eyes came to mind. The way she listened to every word a person said as if it were the most important thing she'd ever hear. And if those words revealed a problem, she'd do anything to solve it. At any cost.

  An image of blood—hers—sprang to life. There was a heck of a lot of fire surrounding her, hot and suffocating. Instead of fleeing the situation, she'd stayed.

  A decision he still didn't understand. He doubted he ever would. All he knew for certain was that being a Billings came with a fundamental hardheadedness and a general lack of care for one's own personal safety.

  A long time ago, he would've been all for the notion of saving a life even at the cost of his own. But now...

  Now there were people counting on him. Another case that would need his expertise. A person he'd need to befriend. A mission he'd need to complete. At ten he'd been invincible.

  At twenty-five, he knew better.

  Elliot shifted. "Haley."

  Nothing happened. Not one stir of the blankets. He stepped a foot closer. Noted the slow rise and fall of blissful slumber, which was better than the alternative. So much better. But he still didn't want her on his couch, in his home.

  "Haley." This time his voice bounced around the space.

  "Hmm." The reply came from beneath the covers, her body still.

  "You're on my couch."

  No response.

  Impatience flared through his body. He stepped closer, tucked his hands in his pockets and brought his face a foot from her ear. "Haley."

  He moved back as she shot upward. The imprint of the couch was tattooed on one side of her face. Her dark hair stuck up in several places, the majority of it secured in a messy ponytail at the top of her head. One hand rubbed her ear—the one he'd shouted in. Her deep brown eyes squinted at him as if he were an alien.

  He knew that look. She'd used a slingshot—or some type of time travel—and likely had no idea how she'd gotten here. Probably wasn't even aware she'd opened her eyes yet.

  But he couldn't admit that. It meant admitting that he knew how she'd gotten inside his house without a key. How he knew anything else she did. How she'd survived so many attempts on her own
life.

  That could never happen. His life and career depended on it. The less everyone knew, the better off they were. What he did in that respect was private—would always be private—every absorption or slingshot a risk he seriously and cautiously calculated first.

  No exceptions.

  And Haley was the last person on earth he'd ever trust with the knowledge. She didn't know how to keep secrets—even her own.

  The blanket had dropped to reveal the UCLA T-shirt she wore—his. A smashed box of his favorite sugary cereal peeked out from the wedge of where the couch back met the seat. There was a square stuck to the side of her arm, the coating sprinkled across her shirt.

  His favorite shirt. His cereal. He clenched his jaw. He'd grown up an only child surrounded by a revolving door of foster children—some of which he'd called siblings—so he was no stranger to sharing. But if he'd had an actual full-blooded sibling that barged into his house, took his things, slept on his couch without asking, and had a large disregard for their own life, he imagined this angry ball of dread is what he would feel.

  And if that sibling had been a guy, he'd probably have tackled him or punched him or shouted. But Elliot was stuck. Just plain stuck between helping and... He took a deep breath. "Remember that conversation we had about knocking?"

  Haley's gaze found him, one eye still in a squint as she opened and closed her mouth as if she had peanut butter stuck to the roof of it. "Can you dim the lights? It's bright."

  "That's called the sun, so no, I can't." He crossed his arms over his chest. Forget the run and breakfast. He'd be lucky to get a shower. "What are you doing in my house?"

  "I was sleeping." She propped her elbows on her bent knees and rested her face against her palms.

  "Don't you have your own couch for that?"

  She froze for a millisecond that set off all sorts of weird alarm bells in Elliot's mind. Then she stood, the blanket falling all the way to the floor to reveal a pair of his draw-string shorts covering her lower torso and thighs. She gripped a wad of the material with one hand, keeping it in place. "Not as comfortable."

  "Are you drunk?"

  "I wish." She brushed the cereal from her arm with her free hand. Stretched. "A single-malt scotch sounds amazing."