“Here’s what we do now,” I whispered so low that she had to lean very close to me to hear. “We run to these bushes without making any noise. We have to be fast or they will spot us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they brought another car to watch this side of the building.” I glanced at her thick-soled boots. At least she had enough sense in her not to wear high heels while hidden in that warehouse.
“Then what?” she asked impatiently.
“There is a Seven-Eleven store right on the other side of these shrubs. We go around it, to the left, and across the street. Two blocks farther my truck should be waiting for us.”
“Should be? You’re not sure?”
“A figure of speech. I am sure. Colton texted me with a confirmation. He’s a smart kid. Okay, ready? Stay close to me and keep quiet.” I could almost sense her rolling her eyes at my last words. But she remained quiet as told. Good.
A short moment later, we were hidden by the thicket of bushes growing on this side of the firehouse. I stopped and peered between the lush leaves to make sure we weren’t spotted. We were in luck. I exhaled in relief.
Three FBI vehicles that arrived this morning at the incident site were accounted for: two of them were here, and the third one went with Chris, leading any possible gang tail on a wild goose chase. They didn’t have enough time from the moment they learned where Gloria was going to get more suits here to watch the firehouse doors, since everything happened quite fast. But there was a possibility that another car or two were on their way here.
We reached the Seven-Eleven building, went around it, and walked up to the street. I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of the feds or, more importantly, the guys that were after Gloria. This was a quiet part of town, despite its proximity to downtown.
“Keep your head down,” I said under my breath.
“I am,” she hissed, irritated.
I felt the corner of my mouth lifting in a smile. I liked feisty women but haven’t met one like Gloria in a long time. Even Rita, the Black Pelican bartender, didn’t measure up to Gloria.
We stood at the street corner, waiting for the green light. I looked around but didn’t see anything out of ordinary. There were cars, regular-looking pedestrians, a skinny cat, sitting by the florist shop and licking its paw, and a delivery truck parked in front of the small Thai restaurant.
The light changed to green. We stepped down from the sidewalk and onto the street, crossing it fast. Now we needed to pass the florist shop and go up the street toward the small park with a playground for the kids. There was a parking lot adjacent to the park where Colton left my truck.
As soon as we reached the corner, I saw a dark sedan drive in our direction. Crap, it looked like the FBI car. Quickly, I pushed Gloria against the building and pressed myself into her, wrapping her in, what I wanted to look like a lovers’ embrace.
She squealed in protest, but I clamped her mouth with mine, stifling the scream. She stiffened against me, but I held her tight.
“Shh, there is a car about to pass us. Might be the FBI. Act natural,” I whispered against her lips.
Her mouth opened, most likely to say something in return, but then realization must have hit her, and she complied, although still unnaturally stiff against me. I wasn’t really kissing her, although I wanted to. God, I wanted to so badly. But I reminded myself that she was completely off-limits, and this was just a necessary act.
Nevertheless, my cock stirred and hardened a little. I tilted my hips away from her, not wanting her to feel my response to her. Last thing I needed was for her to think I was hitting on her.
I peeked to my right as the car in question passed us. I couldn’t be sure if, in fact, this was one of the FBI vehicles, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Reluctantly, I pushed off the wall, away from Gloria.
My heart was beating fast, and I needed a few deep breaths to get myself under control. No, my reaction wasn’t caused by that vehicle. It was the feel of Gloria’s lips against mine, and her body pressed between the wall and me.
I looked at her. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were huge, watching me. She seemed uncertain what to do.
“Let’s go. We need to get to the truck.” I pulled on her sleeve, careful not to touch her skin. It was better that way.
This was insane. I never had problems controlling my response to any woman. I’ve had too many women to count since my puberty. But never before, at least not in my adult life, had I felt like a mess of raging testosterone just from embracing a girl. I had to keep my distance from this one or there was no way I would be attuned to what was happening around us and ready to protect her.
I felt her eyes on me. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She quickly looked away.
I realized I walked very fast. To keep up with me, Gloria started to jog, but she wasn’t complaining. Maybe she was as confused as I was.
Chapter Eight
GLORIA
Ethan’s pickup truck was parked where he explained it would be. We hastily got in. Ethan took his sweatshirt off, threw it in the back seat, and drove off immediately to Chris’s house, as planned. We didn’t talk, and that was fine. I had so many things to think about, to plan, to comprehend. Ethan seemed to understand that, and we drove in silence.
“It’s that small rambler on the corner.” He pointed to a brown house with a neat, white picket fence. “Do you remember what to do?”
I nodded, looking at him.
“Okay. See you on the other side. I’ll be there in a few.” He gave me Chris’s house key. “Lock the front door after you get in.”
I climbed out of his truck and walked to the gate. Right in front of it, I turned and waved to Ethan, thinking that’s what Chris would do. I needed to pretend I was her, right? Ethan waved back, and I pushed the gate open.
The truck sped off. I tried very hard not to freak out. My heart thrashed in my chest, and my breath was short and shallow.
I felt like I was trespassing, no matter that the owners of this house were part of the whole crazy plan. The path to the house was laid with small, red pavers. Rose bushes on both sides of it stood in full bloom, and a few fruit trees grew in the front yard. It felt peaceful here. I started to relax a notch.
Three steps lead to the front porch with a small swing bench covered in colorful pillows. I saw two water dishes by the door—one small with words “Bad Kitty” painted on, and one large, maybe for a dog. I hesitated. What if the dog was in the house? It didn’t know me, and it could attack. Judging by the size of the water dish, it was a big animal. I listened for the barking, but there was no sound coming from the house. I looked around, realizing the dog could be outside and might sneak up on me. The yard was empty.
I quickly inserted the key in the keyhole and turned it twice. The lock clicked, and I pressed on the door handle. It opened. I was scared out of my wits now with the possibility of that dog waiting quietly for me. But I had to go in, pretending I was Chris.
The house was dark, and the only light came from a nightlight plugged in the kitchen. I hastily closed the door behind me and turned the lock back in place. No dog, no danger. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes, letting myself calm down a little. A few moments later I reluctantly peeled myself off the door and started toward the back of the tiny house.
I realized I needed very badly to go pee, so I visited the bathroom that was on my right. Two toothbrushes and two liquid dish soaps were placed on the vanity. Two matching hand towels on top of two bath towels hung from the rack on the wall. A small bathtub with clawed feet was partially hidden behind a breezy-looking, white curtain.
Everything in there was neat and clean, and it seemed to perfectly match and belong together. So that’s how the real, happy couples lived, sharing their days and nights, good and not-so-good moments, dreams and plans, successes and failures...
This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for myself, so I pushed the twinge of sadness out of my mind.
I went to the toilet and t
hen washed my hands. I couldn’t bring myself to dry my hands on their towels. It felt too much like unsettling and tainting Chris and Juno’s privacy with my presence. I was just a passerby, although really grateful for their generosity and assistance.
The kitchen was straight ahead. I went through it and to the backdoor, as instructed by Chris. A vase with a bouquet of pink roses from the front yard was placed on the small dining table. The table stood near the door, and I had to push one of the chairs closer to it to get by. There were two coffee mugs left on the counter and a handwritten note that read:
“I love you, Sunshine. No matter how mad you made me last night, I still love you. J.”
I stood there, staring at that simple note that conveyed so much. And in that very moment, I realized that I was truly, undeniably longing for someone wonderful to love me no matter how mad I would sometimes make him. Someone to call me his Sunshine.
It was time to go, because somewhere out there, past the woods behind Chris’s backyard, Ethan was waiting for me in his truck.
When I opened the backdoor, I screamed and immediately slammed it shut. A huge, black-and-tan German Shepherd quietly sat outside, blocking my exit. I moved to the window to see what that scary beast was doing. A white-and-blue lace drape covered the glass, so I carefully moved it a bit to the side and peeked out. The creature sat motionless with its brown eyes trained on the door, its bushy tail lying flat behind it, twitching.
“Damn it,” I hissed to myself. I thought about calling Ethan, but I didn’t have his phone number, which I quickly scolded myself for.
There was a phone on the kitchen counter. Ethan and Chris seemed like good friends, so maybe—just maybe—his number would be written down somewhere around there. If not, I was totally screwed.
A small corkboard was mounted over the counter. I located light switch on the wall and turned the light on. Photos, postcards, handwritten notes, and a large dried daisy flower were pinned onto it. My eyes danced over that colorful display, trying to locate Ethan phone number. There were several names with numbers but, so far, no luck finding Ethan’s.
“This is ridiculous.” I shook my head and rushed back to the window to peek outside. The dog sat, waiting. “Argh!” I stomped my foot.
I went back to the phone and opened a drawer under it. There were all kinds of items in there, and they seemed just thrown in randomly: pens, notecards, stapler, paper clips, a bottle with red nail polish, and more. Right in the middle of the mess was a small notebook with pink fairies and flowers printed on. I hesitated, feeling like a nasty snoop. But what choice did I have?
I opened the book. “Bingo!” It was an address book. By its tattered pages I suspected this thing was a few years old. A lot of names with phone numbers and addresses were listed there in alphabetical order. What was Ethan’s last name though? McSomething... McGrath, no... McCoy! Yes, Ethan McCoy.
Hurriedly, I flipped the pages to the “M” section. And there it was—written among several other names starting with the M was Ethan’s address and number. I picked up the phone and dialed, hoping it was actually his cell phone number.
He answered, sounding surprised, “Chris?”
“No, it’s Lis... Gloria. I can’t get out of this house.”
“What? Gloria? Where the hell are you?”
“I’m inside Chris’s house, but there is a large dog guarding the backdoor. I can’t get past it.”
He chuckled. He actually chuckled! Seriously? Was this some kind of a cruel joke?
“That’s Pasha, Chris’s dog. She’s the sweetest thing ever.” Ethan continued laughing.
“She doesn’t look sweet at all! Stop making fun of me. What do I do now?” I was beyond frustrated.
“Okay, Pasha won’t hurt you. Was she barking at all?”
“No, she wasn’t.” Where was he going with this?
“She barks when she’s angry, which is rare. If she doesn’t, she either wants to play or wants to eat.”
“Some dog they have,” I huffed. “A stranger comes to the house, and she wants to play?”
“Would you prefer for her to get seriously pissed with you?”
“Of course not! So, what should I do now?” I was unconvinced.
“Open the door and tell her your name,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Are you crazy? What if she realizes I’m not Chris, but someone she doesn’t know and then tries to chomp my hand off?”
“I’ve known Pasha for a few years and no, she won’t bite. Besides, she already knows you’re not Chris. Although she might be confused, since you’re wearing Chris’s clothes so her smell is there,” he mused.
“Confused? What is that supposed to mean?” I yelled and ran to the window again, the phone clutched in my hand.
Pasha sat where she did before, but now there was a small, black-and-white cat rubbing itself against the dog. The dog seemed to ignore the other animal.
I told Ethan what I saw, and he said, “See? She won’t even hurt a cat. You’re safe. Open the door and let her smell your hand. When she does, pet her gently and slowly on the head. Walk outside and straight to the backyard. You know what to do next.”
“And she won’t chase after me?” That couldn’t be so easy. There must have been a catch.
“She most likely will but not to hurt you. To play.”
I sighed in frustration and rolled my eyes. That was a weird dog and probably not very smart. But I didn’t want a smart dog here now. I was glad this one wouldn’t make a hamburger out of me.
“Okay, but it’ll be your fault if she bites me,” I told him. “I’m going there, so if you don’t see me in a few minutes, you better come to the rescue.” I hung up and put the phone back in its cradle.
“This is insane,” I said to myself and opened the door just a crack, ready to slam it shut in Pasha’s face.
She opened her mouth, and her long tongue rolled out. She looked as if she was grinning at me. Slowly, with my heart beating like some insane drum, I reached my hand toward the massive black muzzle. “I’m not going to hurt you, Pasha,” I said, my voice shaky.
The dog sniffed me, and it’s wet nose pushed onto my palm. I carefully ran my hand to the spot between Pasha’s ears. Her fur was soft and slick, and she felt pleasantly warm.
“You’re so friendly,” I whispered. “My name is Gloria... well, I will tell you the truth: it’s actually Lisbeth.”
Pasha licked my wrist as if to show that she appreciated the trust and would keep my secret.
“Ethan is waiting for me out there.” I tipped my chin toward the woods in the back. “You know Ethan, right?”
Pasha squealed quietly.
“You do!” Wow, she understood everything I was saying. Maybe she was smart after all. “Okay, so I’m gonna walk to that gate there in the back. Will you let me go?”
Pasha nudged me with her muzzle again. I guessed it was her way of saying “yes”.
The cat appeared from nowhere again and went around my legs, rubbing himself—or maybe herself—on my pants.
I bent down and patted the animal’s soft head. He looked at me and meowed quietly.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I said quietly to the cat. “But now I need to go.” I slowly stood up, careful not to make any sudden moves. After all, I couldn’t be sure of Pasha’s reaction, no matter what Ethan said about her being unusually friendly.
I locked the door behind me. Should I leave Chris’s key somewhere around here? Maybe behind that large flowerpot. She didn’t mention anything about it, and with Pasha letting everyone into the house I didn’t feel comfortable leaving the key here. So I put it in the pants pocket. Chris said Juno would get her anyway. And Juno must’ve had another key.
I walked fast toward the back fence. Both animals trotted next to me, like my own private escort party. It was kind of funny. And cute. And reassuring. I felt like they cared about my wellbeing, and I was amazed since I’ve never owned an animal, so I didn’t know how affectionate and
clever they could be.
I also realized something else: from the moment Ethan dropped me off in front of Chris’s house, I didn’t think even for a split second about my difficult situation, the gang, poor Helen, or the FBI. This puzzled and amazed me—in a good way. All I was concerned about until now was to follow the plan.
As soon as I got to the gate leading into the woods, I turned to my furry escorts. “Thank you for everything. You two are something else. Maybe one day I will see you again?”
The kitty meowed. Pasha looked at me with sad eyes. Her mouth was closed, unsmiling. I touched the side of her head.
“Don’t worry about me. Go play,” I said, looking into those gentle, brown eyes. They were fixed on me, making me warm inside. I squatted down and put my hand out for the cat to sniff. He let me rub his head and then scratch behind the ears. He purred softly, half-closing his eyes.
“Happy home, happy residents.” I sighed, stood up, and pushed the gate open. I made sure it was firmly closed behind me. Resting my hands on the metal spikes, I looked at my furry companions one more time. And then I turned around and raced through the woods.
The canopy of trees was thick. It blocked the sun, providing a much-needed shade. The woods seemed to emanate some special force. It made me happy, careless almost. I grinned to myself while running on the skinny path, the ferns brushing the bottoms of my pants.
The path meandered, turning right, and then left, and right again. I spread my arms out, smiling and I ran, feeling as upbeat and carefree as I haven’t felt since my friend’s horrific death. Nothing negative existed at this moment; nothing could make me sad or scared. I felt free and connected to whatever strong energy ruled over this place.
I stopped at the large boulder with two handprints in gold paint. I put my palms on the cold surface of the boulder, fitting them over the markings. The stone felt smooth to the touch. Reluctantly, I pulled away from it and went around it, toward the road where Ethan’s truck was already idling.
The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories Page 185