Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  “I see.” I tried again and did a little better. My smile grew. “This is pretty fun.”

  He laughed. “I know. It’s one of my favorites.”

  When I finished, it was Tyler’s turn. Like with miniature golf, he was really good at Skee-ball and his points added up quickly. Paper tickets slid out of a slot, growing with every roll of the ball.

  He put more tokens in the slot and we kept playing. When it was his turn again, I had a funny feeling that someone was watching me. I looked around, and at first I didn’t see anyone looking my way. Then I saw him. The same boy who’d come into my work and told me that he’d seen me talking to Detective Turner. He was staring right at me.

  A chill wrapped around me, and I had the urge to flee.

  “Your turn,” Tyler said to me.

  I spun in his direction, and I was sure my face showed my alarm.

  “Are you okay, Courtney?”

  Tyler looked strong, but I didn’t have confidence that he—or anyone else—could protect me against Dylan and whoever he was involved with. Though I wanted to leave, I battled with myself against allowing that boy to intimidate me. It was hard. I so wanted to run home and hide in my room, but a sense of determination to live my life washed over me.

  “Yeah,” I said to Tyler. “I’m fine.” Then I picked up a wooden ball and began my turn.

  Chapter Twelve

  The boy never approached me, and Tyler and I had fun playing at the arcade until the four of us were ready to leave. When we got back to Shelby’s apartment where I’d parked my car, we all went inside. Her roommates were still out, so we had the place to ourselves.

  “That was really fun,” I said to the three of them.

  “Yeah,” Shelby said. “We should do it again.”

  Jack smirked. “Maybe not the golf part though.”

  We all laughed, then Shelby suggested we watch a movie. While Jack and Shelby sat on the love seat, Tyler and I sat on the couch. He sat right beside me, and when he slid his fingers through mine, excitement raced through me. I was really starting to like him, and I was glad he seemed to feel the same.

  He held my hand during the entire movie—a movie which I hardly paid attention to. Between Tyler’s closeness, and my worries over Dylan and all that entailed, I had a hard time focusing on the movie, although I did notice that Jack and Shelby didn’t seem as lovey-dovey as usual. I wondered what was going on there.

  When the movie was over, I decided to head home.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Tyler offered.

  With my hand still in his, we walked out the door. When we reached my car, we stopped beside it and faced each other. His brown eyes drew me in, and I wanted him to kiss me.

  “I’m glad you decided to go out with me again,” he said as he gazed at me.

  “I am too. I had a really good time.”

  With a slow nod, he said, “Would you like to go out again?”

  Happiness bubbled up inside me. “Yes.”

  He smiled. “Good. Would you like to go dancing tomorrow night?”

  My shoulders slumped. “I have to work tomorrow until eight.”

  He chuckled. “That’s okay. We can go after that.”

  I hoped my mom wouldn’t object to me beginning a date so late, but then I remembered that I was an adult now and I could do what I wanted. Well, maybe. I still lived at home after all. “Okay. I think that will work.”

  His smile grew. “Good. What time will you be ready?”

  I’d want to shower after work—smelling like greasy burgers wouldn’t be cool. “By nine, I think.”

  “All right. I’ll pick you up at nine then.”

  Excited for our date, I beamed. Then he brushed his fingers against my jawbone, slowly curved his hand behind my neck, and leaned towards me. My excitement turned to anticipation, and my eyes slid closed. A moment later his lips pressed against mine, and my arms went around his neck. The warmth of his mouth against mine filled me with longing, and I was grateful Shelby had insisted that I go out tonight.

  After a moment he pulled away and smiled at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Courtney.”

  I nodded, then unlocked my car and climbed in. As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw Tyler standing there, watching me drive away.

  When I got home, I found Mom reading in bed. “How was your date?”

  I sat on the edge of her bed and told her all about it, leaving out the part where I saw the boy staring at me, although I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

  “Sounds as if you like Tyler.”

  I smiled broadly. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be working tomorrow night,” she said. “But I hope you don’t stay out too late.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  The next morning, after tossing and turning all night with thoughts of the murder, I decided to see what I could find out about Jeremy Owens. Maybe if I discovered more about him, I’d be able to figure out why Dylan had done it. Not that knowing the reason would make it okay, but I hoped it would take away some of the guilt I constantly felt for not telling Detective Turner the truth.

  Maybe Jeremy deserved it.

  While still in my jammies, I grabbed my laptop and climbed back under the covers, then Googled Jeremy Owens. There were a lot of results, but none of them seemed to be my Jeremy Owens. So I Googled again, this time putting the word death as part of my search.

  That’s when I found some interesting results. An article about his murder came up, and it said he was a known gang member.

  Does that mean Dylan—and his friends—are in a gang too?

  That idea made this all so much worse. I didn’t know much about gangs, but from what I’d heard, they could be brutal. A shiver of dread coursed through me, and I rubbed my hands over my suddenly cold arms.

  I closed my laptop and stared at the cheerful yellow paint on my bedroom wall as the warning Dylan had given me rang through my head. He’d said dangerous people knew I’d seen him murder Jeremy Owens. Those dangerous people most certainly were gang members too. He’d also said they knew where I lived.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I murmured as my stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom, but managed to keep the contents of my stomach down. I sank to the cold tile on the bathroom floor and leaned my head against the bottom edge of the bath towel that hung from a peg.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I debated about what to do. More than anything I wanted to tell Detective Turner the truth and have everything go away. But when I pictured the serious concern in Dylan’s eyes when he’d told me not to tell anyone, my fear of retribution overrode my desire to come clean with Turner.

  Maybe the police could keep Mom and me safe.

  I visualized an officer posted outside our house day and night and knew that wasn’t realistic. And it wasn’t like Dylan was my only threat—although he’d claimed he wouldn’t hurt me. There were his gang buddies too. He’d made it clear they were the ones I had to be worried about. And I didn’t even know what they looked like. The only person who had shown himself was the kid I’d seen at work and when I was on my date. Other than that, any random person could be in his gang and coming to hurt Mom or me and I wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

  A moan crawled up my throat at my helplessness and I opened my eyes and stared at the oak cabinet across from me.

  Would Dylan admit he’s in a gang if I asked him? Is there any way he could protect me? Would he even want to?

  I couldn’t stay locked in the bathroom for the rest of my life, and as I pulled myself up, I decided I had to do something to protect myself. And Mom.

  I’ll find Dylan and talk to him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At first I thought about texting Dylan, but then I remembered I’d deleted him from my contacts and I didn’t have his number. Besides, I didn’t think it was a good idea to have irrefutable proof that I was communicating with a murderer.

  When Dylan and I had been on our da
te, he’d mentioned that he worked at the Sudsy Car Wash. I decided to go there and see if he was working. After I got ready for the day, I told my mom I was going to run some errands, then headed out.

  Thanks to the L.A. traffic, the place was thirty minutes away, and as I approached it, I saw they were really busy—a line of cars were waiting to have the workers hand-dry their cars. Hoping I would have a chance to talk to Dylan, I drove in and got in line. I purchased the ticket to wash my car, then pulled behind the row of cars waiting to enter the car wash. I didn’t see Dylan and hoped he was among the workers drying the cars. If he was, that would be my best chance to talk to him.

  Soap suds drizzled onto my windshield as my car moved along the rails, and soon my car was clean but wet. Massive overhead dryers blew most of the water off, but after a few moments the conveyance stopped and I put my car into Drive and pulled into the line for the hand-drying.

  I looked at the faces of all the workers, searching for Dylan, and after a moment I saw him. He was drying the car two cars ahead of mine along with another worker. I watched as he and the other worker opened each of the car doors and wiped off the edge of the windows as well as the bottom portion of the door.

  They moved rapidly and with confidence, and as I followed the movements of Dylan’s hands, the image of those same hands helping me bowl filled my mind. But then the memory of those hands beating a man, and then stabbing him, overtook any good memories.

  Desperate to erase that picture from my mind I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw a girl approaching my car with a towel in each hand. She began wiping off the excess water. My gaze went to Dylan, who seemed to be finishing the car he was drying. As I watched, he opened the driver’s door to tell the driver he’d finished, and a moment later he began walking in my direction.

  My heart pounded and my mind raced. What would I say to him? What would he do when he saw me?

  It didn’t take long for him to notice me behind the wheel, and when our eyes met, his widened briefly, but he didn’t even pause in his work. The girl who was drying my car opened the driver’s side door.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice cheerful. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I barely glanced at her as I kept my focus on Dylan.

  The girl finished wiping my door, then closed it, and a moment later Dylan opened the passenger door.

  This is it.

  “What are you doing here, Courtney?” He squatted beside the passenger door as he wiped water off the bottom of it.

  Knowing the time he could chat with me would be brief, I hurried to tell him what I wanted. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m busy right now.” He kept his hands moving as he spoke, even though he’d finished what he needed to do.

  “I know. But I have to talk to you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Courtney.”

  “I’m off tomorrow. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  He shut the door without responding and I watched him walk away. Frustrated at his lack of response—doesn’t he know I could immediately end his future by telling Detective Turner what I know?—I drove home.

  “That didn’t take too long,” Mom said when I walked in the door. She was tidying up the kitchen.

  I walked towards her, smiling half-heartedly. “Thank goodness. I hate running errands.”

  She wiped her hands on a towel, then turned to me. “What time do you have to go to work?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “Perfect.”

  She seemed to be in a really good mood, which brightened my mood. “Why?”

  “Let’s go to a movie. My treat.”

  I hadn’t been to a movie with my mom in a while, but I decided I could use the distraction. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Good. Find out what’s playing.”

  My work shift was uneventful, and when Tyler picked me up for our date that night, I’d managed to push aside most of my worries.

  “You look nice,” he said when I opened the door.

  I was wearing a shimmery dark blue dress that stopped several inches above my knees—a dress that gave me confidence. “Thanks.”

  Mom walked into the entryway and I introduced her to Tyler. After a bit of small talk, Tyler and I walked to his car where he opened the passenger door for me. I got in, then watched him walk around the front of the car to his side.

  I’m really glad Shelby set me up with him.

  “Ready to go?” he asked as he got in and started the engine.

  “Yes.” I was more than ready to go out and forget about the awfulness that had permeated my life lately. It seemed unlikely that any of Dylan’s gang buddies would be at the dance club. At least I hoped they wouldn’t be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tyler pulled me into his arms and we swayed to the music. I enjoyed the feel of his strong arms around me, and when the song ended and a fast song began, I hoped another slow song would start soon.

  Like with miniature golfing and Skee-ball, he was good at dancing. Which reminded me of Shelby and Jack, and how the night before they’d seemed to be less into each other than usual. I’d been busy all day and hadn’t had a chance to talk to Shelby, but decided to make sure and talk to her the next day.

  “Are you thirsty?” Tyler asked after we’d been dancing a while.

  I smiled. “Yes. I could use something to drink.”

  He led me to a table, and a few minutes later he came back with sodas for both of us. The loud beat made it difficult to have a conversation, and after we finished our drinks, we headed back to the dance floor.

  As midnight approached, I decided I should head home. I’d promised my mom I wouldn’t stay out too late, and I wanted to keep my promise.

  “You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin, are you?” Tyler asked with a smile as we walked out to his car.

  I laughed. “You never know.”

  When we got to my house, he walked me to the door, where we stood on the porch and faced each other. I’d loved the kiss he’d given me the night before, and I hoped he was planning on kissing me again.

  “Thank you for going dancing with me,” he said as he met my gaze. “I really enjoyed it.”

  “You’re welcome.” A shy smile curved my mouth. “I had fun too.”

  He reached towards my arms, and I smiled at him to let him know I wanted him to touch me. He ran his hands over my upper arms, then as I took a tentative step in his direction, his hands slid to my waist. We gazed at each other a moment, then his mouth lowered toward mine. When our lips touched, my arms went around his neck and I didn’t want to let him go, but after too short a time, he pulled away and smiled at me.

  “I’d like to go out with you again,” he said. “Is it okay if I text you to set something up?”

  I nodded, thrilled that he liked me as much as I liked him.

  “Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips, smiled, then turned and walked back to his car.

  Nervous about staying on the porch alone, I let myself into the house before he drove away, then locked the door behind me. I headed upstairs to get ready for bed, my mind on Tyler, but when I reached my bedroom I had a funny feeling, like something smelled different. Like someone had been there. Forgetting about Tyler, my gaze ricocheted around the room as I searched for some clue as to what I sensed.

  Then I saw it. A slip of paper on my dresser that hadn’t been there before.

  I rushed over to my dresser and stared at the small piece of paper as my eyes skimmed the words.

  4:00 Sunday

  Elmwood Park

  At the gazebo

  Someone had been in my room. Heart racing, mind whirling, I spun around, ready to defend myself against the intruder. But no one was there.

  I thought about Dylan’s refusal to talk to me.

  I guess he had a change of heart.

  Then a new thought took hold.

  But what if the note isn’t from Dylan? What if it’s from someone else in his gang? W
hat if it’s a trap?

  But I had to go. I had to talk to Dylan. How else to put this nightmare behind me?

  I’ll be smart about it. I’ll go early and see if Dylan shows up. If he doesn’t, I’ll leave.

  Worried about the next day’s meeting, I didn’t sleep well, and rose early.

  “Are you okay, Courtney?” Mom asked when I walked into the kitchen where she was reading the paper. “You look tired.”

  If you only knew. Then I wondered if I should tell her the truth. Maybe she would have some advice. Maybe she could solve this problem.

  I poured myself a glass of orange juice, then sat across from her. “It’s that murder,” I began. “It’s been on my mind.”

  She lay the paper on the table. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you saw that.” Her forehead wrinkled in concern. “Maybe you should talk to someone. You know, a counselor. Talk it through with a professional.”

  I didn’t want to talk to anyone about this. Not if it would lead to putting Mom and myself into danger. “No,” I said as I shook my head. “I don’t want to do that.”

  She tilted her head. “You can always talk to me about it. You know that, right?”

  “Of course.” Love for my mom flooded me as I looked at the earnestness in her eyes, and I realized I didn’t want to burden her with what I knew. It wasn’t her problem. She had enough on her plate without worrying about something happening to me. No, I would handle this myself. Perhaps I could get some resolution when I talked to Dylan that afternoon.

  She smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it, hon?”

  I pushed a smile onto my mouth and shook my head. “No, I just want to forget what I saw. That’s all.”

  She stared at me a moment. “Maybe you should change jobs.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Maybe that will help you put what you saw behind you.”

  There was so much more to it than that. No longer working at Patty Melt Burgers and Shakes wouldn’t end the threat I was under. But I couldn’t tell Mom that. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Besides, I need a better paying job so I can support myself if Mom moves to Colorado and I’m on my own.