Her forehead creases into deep lines and I want to smooth them away. I take her hand and move quickly through the maze of cars. The exit isn’t lit, but a flashlight streams into the area. I take another step forward. “Max?” I attempt to yell over the droning alarm.
Dim moonlight shines through the lobby windows and I catch a glimpse of a guy in dark clothing and a knit cap. For a brief instant, his face is illuminated by his own flashlight.
There’s something vaguely familiar about him.
The beam of light swings in our direction and directly into my eyes. I hold up a hand to shield my face. Emerson grabs my arm and tugs hard—a move that throws me off balance.
Emerson has a death grip on my hand and yanks me back into the showroom of cars. She’s panicked, stumbling, and I immediately run my hand along the wall and hit the light switch to kill the track lighting.
Darkness envelops us and the alarm still wails. I’m running on instinct because I’ve got to get us out of sight. It’s only a matter of time before the intruder finds the light switches.
The beam of light from the flashlight moves across the room and I squeeze her fingers reassuringly. At least I know this place like it’s my own since I grew up with Max. There’s a door at my back and I feel for the handle. Emerson lets me guide her into the tiny room.
She starts to shake and I don’t blame her. Blood is pounding in my head and I’m breathing like a marathon runner. The guy has a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. We’re screwed if he finds us.
I put my fingers on her lips and take her hand so she can feel me locking the door. Although the guy could easily get past a locked door, I’m positive it will make her feel better. She nods that she understands.
This is Max’s secret hideout. His man cave. I take stock from my memory of the place. Trolley cart of snacks. Leather recliners.
I need a weapon. There’s a heavy metal floor lamp in one corner and it’s the only thing I can think of.
Emerson moves every step with me as if she’s afraid to let go. She’s got to be terrified to hang onto me like this. I don’t need her clinging to me when I knock this guy’s head off his shoulders.
The alarm shuts off and the silence practically chimes in my head. I check my cell phone again and it shows zero bars of reception. I shake my head at her. Although it’s pitch black inside the room, my cell lights Emerson’s face.
She nods back and gives me an unsteady but brave smile. Her grip on me lessens and she inhales. I slowly push her to sit in one of the chairs at her left. Wiping my brow with my forearm, I take a couple of steps and close my fingers around the metal lamp base.
We are trapped in this room. We’re so isolated that the world outside might not exist. Sure, we could hear the alarm when it was going off. But I’m not certain whether or not I can hear the guy on the other side of the door. Has he walked away? Is he standing on the other side listening for us?
And who the hell breaks into a car museum? I stand motionless for what seems like hours but has to be minutes. I’m afraid to keep checking my cell in case the light gives us away somehow.
My grip around the lamp base increases and I swear I hear footsteps. I wish I had made Emerson hide in the storage closet.
No time. I need to swing hard at his head. Was he tall? Medium height?
The sound of the doorknob twisting causes me to freeze. I widen my stance and pull the lamp stand back as if it’s a baseball bat. I’m going to fuck this dude up.
One chance.
Emerson hops up from the chair and flings her arms around my waist. My pulse jumps to maximum speed. She needs to get back.
I tense my biceps, tighten my double-fisted grip, and ready for the swing. There’s a tapping at the door, but neither one of us answer.
The noise stops. “Hey, it’s me, Max. Are you decent? Come unlock the door, man.”
Fuuuuck. I exhale and nearly drop the lamp base.
“Yeah,” I answer. Emerson releases her hold on me and I squint into the light of the opening door.
Max scowls. “Did you realize somebody broke in while you guys were in here?”
I exhale and rub one hand over my face. “You think we were in this room when it happened?”
Max deadpans a look. “Well?”
“No. We weren’t. The alarm went off and I thought it was your system malfunctioning. Your burglar had a gun, so I thought we’d get out of sight.” I hold a hand out to Emerson and she doesn’t hesitate. She’s pale and quiet.
“You saw the guy? He didn’t steal anything. He busted my front locks but nothing is missing.”
“Huh.” I rub a hand across my neck and the tension leaves my body. “That’s weird. Maybe we scared him off.”
Max smiles at Emerson. “You okay? A couple of police officers are outside. I told them my friends were in here. They’ll want your statements on what happened.”
Emerson nods. “Sure. But we really didn’t see anything. It was so dark.”
We follow Max into the showroom and one officer waits inside. Blue lights strobe from the parking lot and light up the lobby. I drape an arm around Emerson’s waist and she doesn’t object.
The officer takes our information and questions us. By the time we finish, it’s late and Emerson looks exhausted. I know the feeling. The recent rush of adrenaline has tapped all my energy.
I turn to Max. “Sorry we couldn’t tell them more about the guy.”
Max shakes his head. “I’m glad you two weren’t hurt. It’s the first break-in I’ve had. The alarm system worked great. I don’t keep any cash here. So, I’m not sure what he wanted to steal. It’s not like he could drive a car out.”
“I think I need to take Emerson home. We’re both pretty wiped. I’ll talk to you later this week.” I shake his hand.
Max turns to Emerson. “I hope to see you again soon.”
“Thanks, Max.” Emerson stares out the floor to ceiling windows that line the front of the lobby. She walks toward it as she talks. Her movements are robotic and stiff. I sense something is wrong. I take a few steps to catch up so I can open the door for her.
Then I see what’s got her attention. A dark-colored SUV storms from the parking lot like a tank leaving Baghdad. As I walk to her side of my car and open the door, a sick feeling works its way up from my gut. I thought we were in danger from a criminal hoping to score some cash in Max’s business. The similarities between this vehicle and the one that’s been stalking Emerson are too much to brush off.
If Jordy is right—and I hate how much of the time he is 100 percent correct—then why are the feds watching Emerson? Because I know one thing for certain.
I’m not going to let anyone hurt her.
Habits
Emerson
The line at the coffee shop extends to the door. Of all the times to be running late on my study schedule, this is the pits. I need to get some caffeine and find a quiet corner to memorize my stats notes before the quiz today.
I count the people ahead of me. Five people including the elderly man at the register taking his sweet time as he questions the ingredients about every drink. Look up at the chalkboard, old man...recipes are not secret. Maybe I should skip out and find a different place. The guy two people ahead turns and makes eye contact with me.
Toby. He breaks out his sunshiny smile and his eyes crinkle at the corners.
I wish I could be so chipper. Pushing away my scowl, I give him a half-smile.
“How are you?” he asks over the heads of the two women in front of me.
“Good. You?”
“Great. Did you get my voice mail?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” My grimace is genuine.
After thinking all weekend about being with Dylan, I was too distracted to remember to return Toby’s call. Also, the whole SUV thing at Maxwell’s Gearheads got to me. I didn’t know if I was being paranoid. I needed to see if Jordy had any news about the license plate. Maybe I could turn it in to the cops.
&nb
sp; Toby looks around the crowded place. “Grab us a table and I’ll get your coffee. We can talk.”
I shake my head. “Oh, that’s really nice. But I have to study.”
“Perfect. I need to study, too.”
The old geezer at the counter still hasn’t made up his mind. How complicated can it be? It’s coffee, dude. Not a political election.
“Emerson?” Toby raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Toby loosens his moss-colored scarf and points at the far corner of the room. “Last chance. One table left.”
My gaze follows his to the sole table. It looks like an oasis in my sea of panic. It’s my chance to recoup the lost time I spent over the weekend worrying over the break-in and the guy in the SUV.
“Okay.” Giving up my place in line, I beeline to the one empty spot. The small round table is pushed into a corner, placing both the chairs close together. I take one chair and move it a couple of inches to the left. We’ll still be practically sitting on top of each other.
It takes a minute to remove my coat and lay out my book and highlighters. Then I block out everything but the chapter for the quiz.
My stats book is marked with notes in the margin. I write down everything the teacher says in hopes that the ink will magically decode and imprint on my brain. It doesn’t really help.
I’m deciphering a formula when Toby moves his chair out and takes a seat. “I ordered us both a latte. Hope that’s okay. I’m not sure what you like in it.” He tosses a variety of packets onto the table.
“Oh sure. Thanks so much. What do I owe you?” I grab the sugar and pour the entire thing into my coffee cup.
“Coffee’s on me. What were you frowning so hard about?” He tips up the cover of my textbook. “Ah, stats. I told you I could help you with this.”
I roll my eyes. “Can you sneak in and take it for me? That’s the only thing that will save me at this point.”
“Show me what you’re studying.”
I turn the book toward him. “Formulas. Like this one. Variance of the difference between random, independent variables. Do you think the stats genius who came up with this could make this formula name any longer?”
He leans over and positions the book so we’re both looking at it. “Let me help. Show me the chapters your test is over and the things giving you the most trouble. I’ll tutor you until you’re comfortable with it.”
“Toby, you have your own studying to do, right? I can’t let you do that. You’re way too nice for your own good.”
“My stuff can wait. This is what a guy like me calls a golden opportunity. Damsel in distress needs help with classwork.” He hangs his head for a moment, and then glances up at me sheepishly. “I have an ulterior motive. I’d like something in return.”
“Oh yeah?” I respond, my tone filled with hesitance and regret. Don’t ask me out again. Please don’t. It’s really a pity since I need help with this class so badly and he’s hot and extraordinarily nice and the list could go on like an Oscar acceptance speech.
“Can you look over my resume for me? I have a job interview coming soon for...well...it’s actually an internship and—” Toby rocks back in his chair, grinning, and he takes in my puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”
My face heats and I hope he can’t read my didn’t-see-that-coming look. “I...umm...sure. I can.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh yeah.” Except for the fact that my vanity seems to be larger than a small country. Surely there is a topic less mortifying than my off-target assumptions. “What are you interning for?”
“Engineering firms work with the university and take on students. But it’s like a job interview. You still have to apply and be selected.”
“Very cool.” I take a sip and savor the latte. I usually only buy the regular and less expensive brew—plain old coffee.
“Yeah, it’s great.” Toby grins. “The only bad thing is that I’ll be even busier if I get something. I might have to give up Folks’ Auto.”
I nod. “I feel for you. I totally understand not having enough time to do everything.”
“I hope I can still spend time at home with Diesel.”
I raise both eyebrows, questioning who this might be. “Diesel?”
“Yeah. The dog you helped me bring home. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. One minute I’m living the bachelor life, no responsibilities, no hassles. You come into my life and bam, I’m scheduling walks, buying dog biscuits, paying for obedience classes. Guess I’m trying to give Diesel all the things he’s missed out on in life.”
“Um hmm.” A smile spreads across my face at his declaration of hardship. “Sounds like he picked exactly the right owner. By the way, I like the name Diesel. No other dogs will mess with him. I mean, it’s a badass name.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds. His eyebrows bunch and he taps one finger on my stats book. “Seriously, though. I really need help with prepping for my internship interviews. I need a good set of eyes on my resume. I’ll tutor you and you help me with the stuff I’m bad with.”
“You’re getting the raw end of the deal.” I shake my head, resigned already.
“I warn you, I’m a terrible speller.”
I tilt my head and give him an is-that-the-best-you’ve-got look. “Spellcheck will take care of that.”
“Not really. So, want to come by my place?” He blows on the top of his coffee to cool it.
I hesitate, and then look around the coffee shop. “We could meet here.”
“Oh, okay.” He stares at the table and then his gaze flicks up. “I had something else I wanted to ask you about.”
“Something you can’t ask here?” I raise an eyebrow.
He bobs his head and looks away, his mouth tipping up at a corner as if he’s embarrassed. “I had to buy an interview suit. And I had a hard time knowing what to buy and this sales girl convinced me that I needed all these different shirts and ties. She said I could take them all home and bring back the ones I didn’t want to keep. It made sense at the time.”
I’m smiling at the picture he’s painted. This guy should not go shopping alone. Ever.
“Emerson, I really need help. I can’t afford to keep everything and it was stupid for me to think I could shop for that kind of thing alone. I need someone like you—somebody honest—to take a look.”
I eye Toby’s ripped jeans, Doc Marten boots, and red flannel shirt. “I guess I can sacrifice my time in the name of fashion.”
He smiles, his mouth against the lip of the coffee cup.
“Also, I want to pass stats. So, it’s not such a bad deal for me.” I take a sip of my coffee and push the open book toward him. “Can we start now? I have an hour before class.”
Toby grabs a pen and motions for my notebook. “Works for me. I’ll need a sheet of paper. Let’s get to it.”
* * *
Perhaps the stats quiz was easier because of the tips Toby gave me for memorizing formulas and understanding concepts. Or maybe it was because he instilled a confidence in me that I wasn’t as math handicapped as I feared. Whatever the reason, I quit questioning the test gods and allow myself to enjoy the fact that I passed.
I exit the campus overflow parking lot and head toward the gym to teach my hip-hop class. As I sit at a stoplight on the main highway, I notice a brown paper bag in the passenger seat.
Gabby and I fought this morning. It’s so like her to leave a peace offering in my car.
While the light’s still red, I grab the surprisingly heavy bag to open it. I assume she’s made me a sandwich. She’s probably thrown in some cookies like she always does. The girl is incorrigible—driving me crazy one second and being the sweetest sister on earth in the next.
A slip of paper peeks from inside the bag. The traffic light turns green and I place the bag on the passenger seat. It’s not every day that Gabby shows her sweet side, and I make a mental note to read the paper when I get to work.
A mile
down the road, traffic comes to a standstill. Several cars up, there’s a wreck. We seem to be trapped and the cars ahead of me won’t go around.
At this rate, I’ll miss teaching my class. A police siren wails and I glance at the time on my cell phone. If he clears it quickly, maybe I can still make it.
I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Five minutes passes. Ten. I glance at my fuel gauge.
Finally, the cars move forward and around the wreck. The white Audi has to be totaled. There’s glass sprayed across the pavement and the hood is crunched into an accordion mess.
Then I notice the two girls standing to the side of the cop’s vehicle. Veronica, Collin’s fiancé, stands with one arm wrapped around a girl. When my car is even with them and I can see better, I recognize the other girl as well—Malerie. Malerie’s shoulders shake as she cries into her friend’s shoulder.
I take a gulp of air and exhale. Car accidents always freak me out. They’re both lucky they aren’t hurt, based on the amount of damage. They don’t appear to be hurt, anyway. I doubt anything is damaged except the car since an ambulance hasn’t shown.
Still, I pull over to the side of the road. Veronica is always super-nice to me even though I don’t always return the favor. I usually don’t have time to do nice. But I’ll just have to be late to work today.
I get out and walk to the cop car. A wrecker pulls up the minute I get to them. “Hey, you guys okay?”
Veronica’s gaze swings up to meet mine. “I am so glad to see you. Look, Mal. It’s okay now. Emerson’s here to get us. We don’t have to call Ace.”
Malerie lifts her tear-stained face. Dang. I’ve never seen this girl even look slightly unhappy, much less tearful. Her eyes are wide and panicky, her face pale. I glance over at the ruined car. Maybe her hottie husband is an asshole and I’ve been fooled by their marriage of the rich and beautiful.
Malerie’s lips part in the slightest of smiles. “Really? Thanks, Emerson.”
Seducing Fortune (A Serendipity Novel Book 3) Page 11