Fearless (Crescent Cove: Viper Force Book 1)

by Marlie May

  I could almost feel her pause before the word long because it resonated in my soul, too. With a hefty swallow of water, I tried to shove down the lump in my throat.

  I’m sure your ‘can do’ motto extends to skills like that, she texted.

  My smile made my cheeks ache. There was a lot I wanted to do with Ginny the first moment I saw her. Self-defense training was a great idea, though. I’d leave a hell of a lot more comfortable knowing she was learning to defend herself. I only had a few more days, but I’d carve out some time to show her a few essential moves. How to break a choke hold, for one. And maybe we could talk about how to avoid tricky situations. Hopefully, she’d never have to use her new skills.

  I’d be glad to show you some of my moves, I texted.

  I’d like that. You’ll be here at 5 tomorrow?

  It felt like a thousand years away to me. I’ll be there.

  I pocketed my phone and checked my watch. Four-thirty. While I could start on the basement, I still wasn’t feeling it. Hell, I hadn’t been feeling it from the moment I started this project last week.

  Not that my mood mattered. Get to it.

  Hours later, I locked the front door and called it a night. I’d pick up something for dinner at the supermarket then go to my hotel. I could drop on the bed, put my feet up, and lose myself in a game on TV.

  But when I sat in the driver’s seat, it was all I could do not to plug Ginny’s address into my GPS. My heart called to her like a sailor capsized at sea. Only she could provide me salvation.

  I hated my conscience for setting boundaries on our relationship.

  21

  Ginny

  The next morning, I placed a call to the police station to report the possible break-in into my apartment. Once the dispatcher determined there was no vandalism or anything missing, she said she’d send someone out to file a report. I wondered how that would go since I could barely convince myself that someone had been inside my apartment.

  When I returned my personal camera to the fire-proof safe located behind a framed photo in my bedroom, I realized I’d left my current thumb drive in Eli’s Jeep. Seven other dated drives lay inside the felt-lined safe, each filled with images captured during my ten-plus years traveling the world.

  I stored my pictures on thumb drives as well as on my laptop hard drive, only avoiding cloud storage because I was crap at remembering passwords.

  The drive I’d left in Eli’s Jeep contained pictures from my journey through Greece, a mini vacation at the Black Sea with Zen before we ended things, and multiple shots taken during school visits in Istanbul. I’d topped it off with pictures from the camping weekend.

  While coffee percolated in the kitchen, I parked on my sofa. I slid my laptop off the coffee table and turned it on.

  “Okay.” A blinking white cursor stared back at me, plus the unwelcome message, No Operating System Found.

  My computer-savvy didn’t extend beyond the basics, and this didn’t look like anything I could handle.

  Holding in the start button, I counted to ten then let the computer start like normal. The blinking cursor and message appeared again.

  A dead laptop was not what I needed right now. Where had I left those recovery thumb drives? Not in the safe with the ones storing my pictures. Were they somewhere inside the piles of boxes inside my storage shed out back? I grumbled because the last thing I wanted to do was spend hours poring through the contents of boxes in my hot, dusty shed.

  Maybe that department store sales flyer I’d opened last week had given my computer a virus. Or Windows had failed. Eli had told me I should buy a Mac. Now, I wished I’d listened.

  The easiest thing to do was take the laptop into town to the computer place and see if they could make it functional again. If not, I’d buy a new one, because I needed to blog and upload photos.

  The security firm would arrive soon. Since I hadn’t scheduled photography business today, my morning was free. This afternoon was reserved for making dinner before Cooper arrived. And for plucking my eyebrows and shaving my legs. Important things like that.

  Someone knocked on my door. Rising, I dropped my laptop onto the coffee table. I tucked the curtain to the side and peeked out. After verifying the security guy by the patch on his right chest, let alone the van parked in my driveway with Bastile Security stenciled on the side, I slid the deadbolt and opened the door.

  “Ginny Bradley?” he said.

  “Yes.” I waved him in.

  “I’m Stanley Bastile of Bastile Security. I understand you’d like a quote on a security system install?” He offered me a business card in one hand while juggling a clipboard and pen with the other.

  “I need something done as soon as possible. Can you start today?”

  He chuckled. “You do want something soon, don’t you?” Creases appeared around his eyes as he took in the rooms with tight professionalism. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  I crossed my arms on my chest and gnawed on my lower lip. “Your best system available.”

  “We charge extra for quick installation.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  He tugged off his cap, smoothed his balding head, then replaced the hat. “We’re a new business, but we’re fully certified in the systems we install.” He cleared his throat. “But there’s no way we could get it finished by the end of today. How does late tomorrow sound?”

  My bank balance might protest the rush job but feeling more secure was priceless. “That would be great.”

  “I need to get in touch of some guys, but they’ll be over here lickety-split and we can get started right away. We’ll have to be out of here by three today, though. Prior commitment.”

  “Getting started is enough for me.”

  He gestured toward the living room. “Why don’t you show me around, and we can discuss exactly what you’re looking for.”

  Leading the way, I gave him a complete tour of the building from top to bottom. We talked about the system he recommended for my style of windows and doors, plus the cameras he thought would be best for monitoring the outdoors. After returning from the ground floor, we sat at my kitchen counter while he went through what he planned, checking boxes on a spreadsheet as he outlined the system he’d install. He added up the columns with his phone calculator, swallowed, and named a price.

  Substantial but less than I’d feared. At least I could afford it.

  He made a few calls and more men arrived. They walked around, talking as they laid out what needed to be done. After carrying boxes up from the van, they got started.

  “I need to go into town,” I told Stanley. “I shouldn’t be long. Is that okay?”

  Stanley looked over from where he was attaching something to the doorframe leading to my back deck. “Not a problem. I’ve got your cell if I have questions.”

  My lack of caffeine had announced itself with a throbbing in my temples. At least Mr. Joe’s was on my way to the computer store.

  I packed my laptop and purse in my backpack and left the guys working. Knowing I’d have a new barrier between me and the outside world made me happier already.

  Out on my front lawn, I stalled beside my car and studied the road. Walk or drive? While it was an easy hike downtown, I’d never felt comfortable walking on the road. The sidewalk didn’t extend out this far, and I’d have to use the breakdown lane. And my fear of being outside alone had kept me locked up in my apartment for months.

  Driving was safer, and I was all about feeling safe. But jeez, when was I going to stop worrying about everything?

  “Walk,” I whispered. “If Tom comes around, you can smack him. Besides, you said you were going to stretch your boundaries.”

  It was past time to show the world—and myself—I was fearless.

  Pack on my back, I forced my sneakers down the drive and turned onto the road leading toward town. I told myself it felt great to be outside, to savor the wind rustling my hair, to swing my arms freely. But my heart wasn’t en
tirely convinced.

  A few cars cruised past me, giving me a wide berth. Birds chirped in the woods on the other side of the road and in the distance, a lawnmower hummed. A few bees buzzed by, seeking pollen, and I passed a cluster of butterflies fluttering on yellow flowers. Enjoying nature was just one of the many fun reasons to walk. I used to love hiking. I’d taken it for granted.

  The sun warmed my arms, and my sneakers scrunched pleasantly on the gravel peppering the breakdown lane. Heat stole through my bones, and my heart sang. Pure joy rose up inside me, the feeling I used to get when I arrived in a new country.

  Walking had been the right decision.

  Mr. Joe’s was ten-minutes from my house. I was already savoring the caffeine rush to come. Since sweat trickled down my back, I’d get my usual summer drink, an iced mocha latte. Like I had each day last week and when I went to the base with Cooper. My mouth salivated already. To celebrate my new bravery, I’d reward myself with a second drink on my way home. My veins were going to sing with energy.

  Reaching Mr. Joe’s, I darted around cars in the parking lot and then strolled inside and up to the counter. Baristas tweaked fancy silver machines along the back wall, a few shaking their hips and whistling along with the music piped in overhead. The smoky essence of caffeinated yum dove into my senses.

  Joe greeted me from behind the register. “Well, well, well. Nice to see you here rather than at the drive-through window, Ginny.”

  The best part about being a regular was that the employees knew my name.

  I smiled. “It’s too awesome a day to be cooped up inside a car. I decided to walk.”

  His eyes lifted toward the large windows spanning the front of the shop. “Sure is gorgeous outside. What can I get you?” He laughed and held up his finger. “No, don’t tell me. An iced mocha latte. Medium or biggie this time around?”

  “You know me too well. I think today’s worthy of a biggie. With a squirt of whipped cream on top.” I’d really live it up.

  “I’ll have it ready for you in no time.” He turned to make my drink.

  “Got it,” a man said in a deep voice. His back faced me, making it impossible to see his face. Average build, a cap pulled down over his blond hair. He scooped up ice with a plastic cup and then hustled to the swirl station to add chocolate. Something about him felt familiar, which meant I must’ve seen him around town. Last week, Joe told me he was hiring more staff.

  The man crafted my drink and handed it off to Joe, never turning my way. All I caught was his partial profile. Short beard, pointy nose like a lot of guys around town.

  I traded my drink for my debit card, and Joe handed me the slip, saying, “Nice seeing you. Have a great day.” Leaning around me, he spoke to the next in line, “What can I get you today?”

  A stop at the creamer station gave me a chance to tuck my purse back into my pack. I unsheathed a straw and pushed it through the whipped cream topping. Unable to resist, I took a long drink. Icy, sweet, and extra chocolatey. With a sharp kick of espresso. Pure heaven.

  Outside, I tugged my pack onto my back. I took another long swallow, savoring the mix of flavors. A slightly bitter taste hit me at the end, almost like cinnamon and something I hadn’t ordered. Obviously, the new guy had messed up. Should I go inside and ask Joe to make me another?

  Why bother? If I complained, the new guy could get into trouble. And time was a-wasting. I had to drop off my laptop for repairs.

  While crossing the parking lot, I sipped more of my drink. Cinnamon combined with chocolate gave it an unusual flavor, but I’d deal. Caffeine was caffeine, and I needed it badly this morning.

  I turned onto the main road and sped up to a brisk pace, enjoying the fresh air as I moved along. Another sip of my drink should send energy zinging through my veins any second now. Why then, was I feeling sleepy?

  “You were awake most of last night,” I told myself. “That’s why you’re tired.”

  Have some more caffeine.

  I soon left the busy area around Mr. Joe’s behind and strolled beside the wooded section outside the city proper. In no time, my drink ran dry. By then, I could barely hold the cup. My fumbling fingers dropped it and I staggered, barely catching myself.

  Man, was I tired. And super-relaxed. Like I floated on clouds, squishing one foot after the other on all that white fluff. Tried to, anyway. My feet weren’t cooperating.

  Head spinning, I giggled but cut the sound off by slapping my hand over my mouth. Good thing the houses in this part of town were set back from the road. Otherwise, people would think I was drunk. At freaking nine in the morning? Please. I never drank before ten.

  Why weren’t my legs working like they used to? One wanted to take me out into the road while the other favored the steep ditch to my right. I wished they’d make up their minds. Or learn a little cooperation, like good legs should.

  “Move forward, Ginny. You’ve got a toplap to drop off.” More giggles erupted from my throat. Toplap. Really? That was…That was…

  Unease shifted inside me, awakening like a dragon after a centuries-long slumber. It reared back its head and whiffs of dread swirled from its nostrils.

  Something was wrong with me. This was more than feeling tired.

  The sound of a vehicle coming up behind me sent me pivoting around to face it. My feet tangled together and my thighs quivered so badly, I could barely remain standing. My head spun, and I had to grab onto the guardrail before I collapsed.

  My stomach rolled, and my heartbeat slowed as if it was encased in mud.

  Frowning, I squinted at the car roaring toward me. My hand lifted all on its own to ward off the vehicle. Sure, my hand could stop a black sedan.

  The driver rode beyond the white line on my side of the road. Didn’t he see me standing in the breakdown lane?

  “No,” I hissed out. Why couldn’t I move? I needed to get out of the way. And why the hell was I so loopy? Had I been—

  The car veered right for me. Gravel spun out behind the tires as the driver gave the vehicle more gas.

  Screaming, I scrambled backward. My legs hit the guardrail, and my arms flew up. I leaned toward the ditch. Momentum hauled me over the guardrail. Slamming onto the ground on the other side, I scrambled to find purchase, but my hands wouldn’t work. The ditch sucked me down, down. I slid, my feet jarring. My body flipped sideways and I tumbled down the slope, gaining speed, smacking against rocks and sticks. Guttural gasps burst out of me.

  I slammed to a stop at the bottom of the ditch, flat on my back, struggling to breathe. Finally, I was able to pull in some air. The world spun, and I thought I’d pass out. My voice was frozen with shock, and my heart fluttered in my chest.

  Silence reigned in the woods around me. Up on the road, tires squealed and an engine roared. The vehicle drove off, taking the corner on what sounded like two wheels. In moments, I was left alone.

  I lifted my head and stared around with blurry eyes. A lizard perched on a rock beside me blinked and, perhaps thinking I’d seen him, scurried into the deep grass.

  “Ohh.” I rolled onto my side, assessing the damage. Nothing hurt too badly. My arms and legs were cooperating, although they flopped around after minimal effort. I was okay. Mostly. If only my brain would stop whirling.

  I could have a concussion. No, wait. I’d been groggy before I fell, because I was overtired from lack of sleep last night.

  Or from something else.

  Dread sunk through my belly like a lead weight.

  Another car passed on the road. Heat surging through me, I struggled to sit up while shouting for help. But the driver kept going. With their windows up, they must not have heard me.

  If I wanted to survive, I needed to get out of this ditch immediately.

  I scrambled to my feet and grabbed onto a bush when vertigo tried to toss me back onto the ground. But my legs held my weight, so I released the tree and staggered forward.

  Blood trickled down to my wrist from a long scratch, and my left knee ached
with each step. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t broken anything in the fall.

  Using bushes and clumps of grass for purchase, I made my way slowly up the hillside, finally reaching the guardrail after what felt like days.

  Another car was coming this way. I waved my arms, and my voice croaked out help.

  The vehicle slowed and the driver pulled to a stop beside me. A woman in the passenger seat lowered her window and gasped. “What happened to you, honey? Are you okay?”

  “No.” The world was flying around again. To keep from falling back into the ditch, I clutched the guardrail. But my knees crumpled, and I smacked against the metal. My stomach cramped, and I vomited up my coffee.

  Darkness crowded in, hauling me away—only broken by an ambulance siren sometime later.

  Through hazy eyes, I watched a paramedic climb over the guardrail.

  “We were driving into town, and she just appeared on the other side of the guardrail,” a woman said shrilly. “Like a bloody ghost! Scared the heck out of me. We don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she was breathing, so I didn’t do CPR.”

  Another paramedic wheeled a stretcher up to the other side of the guardrail and lowered it to my level.

  “You okay, Ma’am?” the paramedic on my side asked.

  “I don’t know.” The spinning had slowed, only to be usurped by a blinding headache.

  “Where do you hurt? Your neck, your back?” She ran her fingers carefully over my arms and legs. Does anything feel broken?”

  “I’m okay. I climbed. Out of the ditch.” My words stuttered from my mouth, because my tongue kept flopping around.

  The woman frowned while strapping a white collar around my neck. “This is just a precaution.” She unclipped my backpack and eased it out from underneath me, setting it to the side. As another paramedic approached, she nudged her head toward the ambulance. “We’ll need the backboard.” She said to me, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I was. Walking. Into. Town. Car. Coming at me. I fell…into the ditch.”

  The paramedic reeled back, eyes widening. “Are you saying a car hit you?”