Surrendered

by Jennifer Sienes

  “What? Are you going all female on me? Get to the point.”

  “You may not know it, my friend, but you’re hooked.”

  I throw him a scowl. Should have left him behind. I need to focus on Tess right now, not Marty’s backseat therapy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your lips say ‘no’ but your mind—”

  “Oh, shut up! Tess and I, we spend half our time fighting.”

  “Foreplay.”

  I tighten my hands on the steering wheel until my knuckles cramp. It’s either that or wrap them around his neck.

  Chapter 27

  Tess

  Cameron Park is only a ten-minute drive, which is perfect. Long enough to figure out a plan, but not so long that I lose my nerve. Frayed, maybe, but not lost. The Park sits on a collection of hills overlooking the Sacramento Valley, as different from the city as night from day. Lights in the valley spread out like a field of stars below, only amplifying the darkness above.

  And the evil that lives here.

  Once off the highway, I pull to the side of the road and plug the address into my phone. The mechanical voice booms in the silence of the night, increasing my heart by an alarming rate and constricting the air in my lungs. I hold the down-volume button and take a deep breath.

  You can do this.

  The streetlights are dim, and every white pine and oak tree takes on a spine-chilling posture—like the creepy animated trees in The Wizard of Oz. I shudder as I park my car in the shadow of a busted street lamp. A movie I saw once flits through my head—a killer hiding in the back seat who springs on his helpless victim.

  A chill crawls up my spine, and with shaky fingers, I thumb the flashlight app on my phone. It’s crazy thinking, and I know there’s no one in the car, but I whip around, holding the light aloft, illuminating the back seat. Empty, of course, but a girl can never be too careful. There’s something in the air, real or imagined, that has me seeing ghosts where they don’t exist.

  It doesn’t help that the full moon is still conspicuously absent.

  Professor Fields’ two-story ranch house sits back from the street, lights glowing from nearly every window. It looks so…normal. A large expanse of lawn surrounded by white, split-rail fencing divides it from the road. Purely decorative. There won’t be any dogs lurking here. At least, not in the front.

  Shifting in the seat doesn’t improve my view. I promised Julia I’d stay in the car, but this is pretty pointless. As dark as it is, no one would see me if I slipped across the lawn to the front window. Braving anything more is bordering on ludicrous. Okay, even traipsing around his front yard borders on ludicrous, but as long as I’m here…

  I unstrap my seatbelt and reach for my black windbreaker and knit cap. Whoever said you can’t learn anything from watching T.V. was wrong. I struggle into the jacket, fighting the confines of space between the seat and steering wheel. I’m breathing heavily, but I’m not sure if it’s from exertion or nerves. Next, I stick the cap on my head, gather my hair, and tuck it beneath. With a flick of the visor, I check my appearance in the lighted mirror. Darn my Irish complexion. It stands out like a beam of light. I slap the visor back up. It’ll have to do. I didn’t think to bring anything to darken my face.

  Climbing out of the car, I pocket my keys and phone before easing the door closed. I didn’t expect his home to be in such an isolated area, nor did I think the street would be so far from the front of the house. One thing I’m confident of—with the twenty-year age difference, if I get caught, I can outrun him.

  As long as it isn’t uphill.

  Sticking to the deeper shadows of a line of dogwoods that border the drive, I make my way up toward the house, body slouched. My heart’s beating so hard, it’s blocking my ears, and despite the cold, my hands are clammy. All I need is something that will give me an edge. Catching him in the act would be great, but he’s not stupid enough to bring a student to his home.

  The picture window to the right of the front door is low. Another window on either side, a manicured hedge below. One window is open a few inches. Bending down, I walk-crawl to the middle and sit. Dampness from the lawn seeps onto my rear. My chest tightens. Breathing difficult. Please, Lord, not a panic attack now! Breathe in through my nose. Out through my mouth. In and out. In and out.

  I press a hand to my heart and shift onto my feet. In a squat position, I peer over the hedge. He walks into view and I drop. The lights are on inside. He can’t see you. Fingers tangled in the leaves of the hedge, I rise again. My thighs burning, I inch high enough to see into the room. It looks like something out of a home magazine—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, lit fireplace with a mantel draped in greenery, over-stuffed chairs, and mood lighting.

  “Stephen?” A woman’s voice precedes her appearance.

  I drop behind the hedge again and wait. Who is she? Blonde, trim, stylish. Definitely not a college student.

  “What do you think about flying Ricky home for Christmas?”

  My legs cramp, and I shift onto my knees. That’s better. I can just see over the hedge in this position. The woman is fingering the books in the case, as if looking for one in particular.

  “We’ve been through this, Tricia.” He reaches above her, plucks a book off the shelf, and hands it to her.

  Is he married? He must be. Ewww. The poor woman. And who’s Ricky?

  “If he wants to come home, he’ll have to pay his own way. With the grades he pulled last semester, he’s lucky I even pay tuition.”

  Tricia, mouth tight, tosses the book at him and storms out of the room. She must be his wife. He drops it onto an end table and leaves in the opposite direction.

  The coast is clear. I count to fifty before I get my feet under me and straighten. My knees, now cold and damp, protest.

  I wonder—

  A hand clamps around my mouth cutting off the scream that rises up my throat. I claw at it, fighting for air. Fighting for my life. But a strong arm grabs me around the middle and lifts me off the ground.

  Oh God, what have I done?

  I’m going to die.

  “Tess, it’s me.” The words are whispered hot against my ear. “Calm down. Someone will hear you.”

  Jake? Thank God. Tears well, and I close my eyes. What if it had been Stephen Fields?

  “I’m going to let go now. You okay?”

  I nod, my mouth too dry to speak. But without his arms for support, my legs buckle, and I stumble. He swoops me up in his arms, and I latch onto his coat, fearful he’ll drop me. But his arms are strong and sure.

  We’re halfway down the drive when it hits me. What’s he doing here? I wasn’t in any danger—until he snuck up behind me like some crazed criminal. Just who does he think he is? And how did he even know where I was?

  “Put me down.”

  “We’re almost to the car.”

  “Put. Me. Down. Now.” I push against his chest and kick my legs.

  He tightens his grip. “When we get to the car.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Keep your voice down. You want to get arrested for trespassing?” He steps out of the shadows of the trees and takes a left turn.

  “My car’s over there.” I fling an arm in the opposite direction.

  “Marty’ll drive it home. You’re coming with me.”

  “Of all the unmitigated nerve. How did you find me, anyway?”

  Jaw tight, his eyes are fixed ahead.

  “Julia’s the only—it was her, wasn’t it?”

  Nothing. Just that granite jaw and cold, steel-blue stare.

  But I know. It was Julia. Boy, will she get a piece of my mind. So much for secrecy between friends.

  We reach Jake’s Toyota. Marty’s leaning against the side, arms crossed, smirky smile in place. At least I think it’s smirky. In the dim streetlight, it could just be creepy.

  “So, you found our little stalker, did you?” He pushes off the car and opens the passenger door.

 
Jake drops my legs, holding me steady when they buckle. “Give him your keys.”

  I slap his arm away from me. “I will not. You have absolutely no right—”

  Jake shoves his face in mine, teeth gritted. “Your keys. Now!”

  This is not the Jake I’ve grown to…tolerate. This flinty-eyed, furious Jake is scarier than Stephen Fields. “Look, Jake—”

  “I’m going to count to three, and if you don’t produce those keys, we’ll leave your car here. One…two…”

  “Fine.” I snatch the keys from my jacket pocket and slap them into Marty’s waiting hand. “But really, you have no—”

  “Get in.”

  “But—”

  “Now.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he looks about as moveable as Mount Rushmore—and just as cold. Sliding into the car, I give him one last glare as he slams the door. The ride home ought to be a real hoot.

  Jake and Marty have their heads together for a moment. I wonder what they’re talking about. Me, no doubt. And it can’t be good. I can just hear Jake ranting about what an idiot I am. But I don’t feel like an idiot. I feel…powerful. Yeah, that’s it. Powerful. And it doesn’t matter that Professor Fields doesn’t know I was there. I know.

  He can’t hurt me now.

  Just the thought of it has a giggle working its way up my throat while tears flood my eyes. He can’t hurt me.

  Jake crosses in front of the car to the driver’s side while Marty walks to my car, swinging the keys on a finger and catching them in his hand.

  It wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t hear or see. I’d know the moment Jake slides into the car. Anger, red hot, emanates from him, pushing me against the window. So much for blessed relief. With a jerk of his wrist, he starts the car then pulls away from the curb. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  He’s not going to dampen my power high. “I thought maybe he was up here sacrificing virgins and I could catch him at it.”

  “You think this is a joke?”

  Where does he get off lecturing me? “Yeah, Jake. The last ten years have been a real laugh-fest. Why in the world would I take a first-class scumbag like him seriously?” We merge onto Highway 50, and I rest my head against the window and close my eyes. The adrenaline rush is waning.

  “What if he caught you? Did you think of that?”

  “Not until you went all Neanderthal on me.”

  “You’re lucky it was me and not him.”

  “Had you not shown up in cave-man mode, I would have been safely back in my car, no one the wiser.”

  “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll lock you up myself.”

  I open my eyes and scowl at him, although he can’t see me in the dark. “Where did you get the misdirected notion that you’re my keeper?”

  He raises his hand to his face, which I can just make out in the glow from the dash lights and rubs at his temple. Is his hand trembling? “Promise me you won’t pull a stunt like that again.”

  “Why do you care?”

  Reaching over, he takes my hand and rubs his thumb along my fingers. “I care. Now, you want to tell me what you were thinking back there?”

  A rush of heat shoots through me, surprising a gasp from my lips. He cares how? Like a big brother? A friend? Something more? “I…” Swallowing, I try again. “I was tired of playing the victim.”

  His thumb, slightly calloused, continues to play over my fingers. “You were one step from being just that again. Do you have any idea—”

  “He’s married.” The image of the blonde woman comes to mind. Does she know about him? If so, how can she stand it? “And I think he has a son in college.”

  “That doesn’t change anything.”

  “No, I know that. Except, do you think they know? If I thought my husband was a rapist…” I push the cap off my head with my free hand and hold it in my lap. “Or my father. I just never saw him with a family.”

  “What were you hoping to accomplish?”

  “I don’t know.” And it’s true. “It’s not like I expected to catch him in the act. I wasn’t about to confront him. But I sought him out, saw him, and didn’t collapse into a panic attack. I’m no longer a victim.” And that’s accomplishment enough.

  For now.

  Chapter 28

  Jake

  Key in hand, I let myself into the house. The only way I know the girls are safe is by locking up each night before going to bed. What they need is a body guard—someone to save them from their own stupidity. Tess pulls another stunt like the one last night, she’ll need someone to protect her from me.

  Instead of the usual early-morning quiet, someone’s rustling upstairs. I step into the kitchen to see Katie topping a bowl of cereal with milk. Something with flakes and raisins.

  “You’re up early.”

  She jumps, sloshing milk over the side, and shoots green-eyed daggers at me. “Why’re you always skulking around?”

  “And good morning to you, too, sunshine.” I can forgive her bad mood—the coffee’s made and waiting.

  “Tess is right. You’re waaay too comfortable around here.” She pushes past me to put the milk back in the fridge.

  “Hmm. Guess I misinterpreted when you told me, months ago, to make myself at home.” Tess’s lunch box sits by the coffeemaker. I set it aside and snag a mug from the cabinet above.

  “What’s with that lunch box, anyway?”

  “Don’t know what you mean.”

  Cereal bowl in one hand, she snatches up the box. “Is it like some secret code between you two?”

  “You’re onto us. Turkey on wheat means it’s her turn to harass you. Peanut butter on white means it’s mine.” Filled mug under my nose, I inhale the rich brew before taking a sip.

  “You don’t want to tell me about it, fine.” She slides the box back on the counter and slurps a bite of cereal.

  “Fine.” Putting the mug down, I move to the fridge.

  “So, who was the chick the other day?”

  Wonder what took her so long. “My sister.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, right. You sure have a lot of secrets.”

  “Just like to keep my personal life private.” I slide open the deli drawer—sliced turkey, roast beef, and a couple different kinds of cheese. The day’s cool enough that mayo should be safe.

  “She’s too pretty to be a sister.”

  I select the roast beef and sliced cheddar and put them on the counter. “That doesn’t even make sense.” I turn back for mayo and mustard.

  Katie leans against the sink, still working on her cereal. “She’s an old girlfriend. Or your wife.”

  I scowl at her. “You think I’d be here if I was married?”

  “You’re separated.” She waves her spoon at me. “No. Divorced.”

  “And you’re delusional.” Gathering up the ingredients, I carry them to the pull-out cutting board by the sink, nudging Katie out of the way. “What’re you doing up so early, anyway?”

  “I have a test for pre-calc today I haven’t studied for yet.”

  “Like to cut it close, do you?”

  She sets her bowl in the sink with a clamor. “No challenge in being completely prepared.”

  “Yeah, don’t think the college admins see it that way.”

  “I’m not so sure about college.”

  “Really. You plan to run a restaurant on your good looks?”

  She shrugs. “I’m keeping my options open.”

  “I’d say college isn’t an option. Not in this day and age.”

  “Neither of my parents went to college, and they did okay.”

  I stop piling roast beef on the bread and look at her. The peeking sun beams through the window, setting her hair and eyes afire. Who was it who said youth is wasted on the young? “Different time.”

  “Same restaurant.”

  “And if, God forbid, it goes belly up? Or, because you don’t have the right business education, you run it to the ground. Then what?”

 
; She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t the Bible say something about not borrowing trouble?”

  “That’s what you get for reading it out of context.”

  She turns to the sink and rinses her cereal bowl. “How come adults think they’re always right and teenagers don’t know anything?”

  “It’s called experience. We have it. You don’t.”

  “Hey, Tess.”

  I look up from wrapping Tess’s sandwich. She stands in the doorway in jeans and a sweater, her hair piled on top of her head. Makes her neck look long and vulnerable. Too vulnerable. I have to swallow down the metallic taste of fear when last night flashes in my mind. “Morning.”

  “Are you two trying to solve the world’s problems before the day’s begun?”

  Katie sticks her bowl in the dishwasher and slams it shut. “Jake’s educating me on why he’s always right and I’m always wrong.”

  Tess smiles. “Do tell.”

  “Experience, he says.”

  Retrieving a coffee mug from the cabinet, she holds it against her chest and looks at me. “That doesn’t hold water. We have the same amount of experience, but you still think you know more than me.”

  I open up the lunch box and slip the sandwich inside. “That’s called common sense.”

  Her mouth opens on a little gasp as her eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare start in on last night again.”

  “Just saying.” I slap the lunch box closed.

  “What happened last night?” Katie splits her attention between Tess and me.

  Tess pours her coffee. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Katie plops her hands on her hips. “What is it with you two and your stupid secrets?”

  I reach for a dishrag and ignore Tess’s pointed look.

  “More secrets, Jake?”

  Katie sidles up next to her. “He had a visitor the other day. A beautiful woman.” She smirks. Is she trying to get me in trouble?

  Wiping the crumbs from the sandwich into my hand, I throw Katie a glare. “I told you who she was.”

  “He says she’s his sister. Do you believe it?”