Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Not since the wedding.

  Her step faltered. If she asked Robbie about it, his face would get that crazy-scary shuttered look. As if he wanted to unleash all his frustration at once. Instead, he’d change the subject. Tell her to do her homework. Try to talk her mom into joining a class at the gym, the library or somewhere. Shower. Get dressed. Live.

  For crying out loud, take this second chance, Lilly.

  It was almost as if she’d never awoken from her coma. Only she wasn’t hooked to life-sustaining machines. Instead, she’d died inside her body, the bones and muscles holding her soul captive.

  Holding the person she’d been, a silent prisoner.

  Ariana tried to talk to her, like they used to, but it wasn’t the same. Her mother’s words were few and often abrupt. The woman who’d taught her to play the guitar no longer knew how to hold one, much less strum soulful chords. She didn’t harass Ariana about her homework, her art or friends. Always declared she had a headache and was sorry.

  The half-hearted apology never rang true.

  Nothing was the same. And Ariana was sick of pretending it ever would be.

  And wishing for something any good daughter would never consider. Was it so terrible to wish for a tiny shred of normalcy?

  Instead of this nightmarish reality where Uncle Robbie tried so hard to create something that didn’t exist. Or last. While everyone around him walked away. Or stayed in made-up fairyland.

  Something sharp pricked at the back of her eyes. Days like today made her miss and hate her dad, all at once. If he hadn’t left them, things would be different.

  He’d find a way to revive her mom. Fix the damage she’d caused. Prevented it altogether. He couldn’t do that from a plot at the cemetery. And she wasn’t sure why he’d thought he could. Or if he’d thought about it at all.

  Ariana rounded the corner to a warehouse that sat between the school and the apartment building where she and her mom lived with her uncle.

  The toe of one shoe connected with a stone. The marble-sized rock flew across the asphalt and stopped near the front wheel of a shiny, silver BMW M3 convertible. The top was down, the sun glinting off the windshield and landing in her face.

  She shifted her backpack and changed course. Robbie had told her not to cut through this area a dozen times.

  Don’t take shortcuts. Stick to the main path. Stay surrounded by other people. And be aware of your surroundings.

  Bad things happened everywhere. Even in good neighborhoods.

  What was the big deal? It made her walk fifteen minutes shorter. So she’d stay alert. Nothing would happen. And he’d never know the difference. Never lose a minute of sleep over it.

  Would her mom even notice if she slipped inside the apartment in the middle of the day? Probably not. She wouldn’t move from the chair in the living room. A blank stare affixed to her face.

  What was she seeing? Ariana’s dead dad? A shriveled infant she’d never gotten to hold?

  A swirl started in Ariana’s stomach and crawled upward, threatening to take over her lungs. If Amanda were here, she’d…

  But she wasn’t, much like Jeff Gabriel. And while her dad couldn’t be, and her mom didn’t try, due to circumstances beyond her control, Amanda had a choice.

  It hadn’t been them.

  Ariana concentrated on one breath in. Another out. Swiped a hand across her face. She was making a big deal out of nothing. She’d feel better after she got home and messed around on her guitar. Or painted. Made a lunch her mom wouldn’t eat.

  She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder, again. The homework Mr. Richardson gave the class made her bag heavier than it needed to be.

  Who cared about math, anyway? She’d never use algebra. And with only two weeks left before the end of the year, she didn’t see the point in a massive overload of equations that succeeded in making her brain hurt.

  X squared plus Y minus Z didn’t mean anything to her.

  Even school had changed. Her best friend, Kate, had joined cheerleading, was crazy flexible and had boobs. The boys noticed her. Kate noticed them. And suddenly she and Ariana didn’t talk anymore.

  The sudden cold shoulder left Ariana scrambling to figure out what she’d done to cause it.

  Or she’d be doing that, if she cared what her former best friend thought. What her popular friends whispered behind Ariana’s back. The pitying looks Hunter, the boy she’d had a crush on since fifth grade, gave her.

  He never raced to her rescue. Never stood up to the guys snickering. And she was tired of hiding behind supposedly deaf ears.

  Especially after today.

  She refused to be defined by a mother still in near-vegetable status, her lack of boobs or a rumor started by a girl who should’ve been her friend.

  The sound of harsh voices brought her from her thoughts. Two men stood over someone lying on the ground. She pulled up short. Her shoes skidded across the pavement, the sound echoing the distance between them in harsh waves. Her heart crawled into her throat. Started beating a hasty, disconnected rhythm.

  A blink didn’t clear the scene in front of her. It only brought it back in focus.

  The taller of the two men held a baseball bat. An edge was covered in flecks of red. The other guy held a knife and crouched near the prone man. Dug through dark suit pockets and came up with a black wallet, car keys, cell phone and a purple book. Each new item followed the one before it, finding a home on a once white button down shirt.

  What were they doing?

  A dose of saliva charged into her mouth. “Hey!” The force behind the syllable sent panic zinging through her system.

  The men looked up as one. Shock filled their faces in an eerie, simultaneous beat. The bat hit the ground with a high-pitched thud.

  She should have stayed quiet. Run off. Taken a different way home.

  The tall one recovered. Smiled in a manner that sent something sinister zapping straight to her toes. He turned toward her, his steps closing the distance.

  What had she done?

  The other took his time following suit, the same gleam in his dark eyes. As if she were a juicy steak. And they were beyond starving dogs.

  The man on the ground didn’t move.

  Run!

  Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, fused by the invisible hands of cement. Tears punched the backs of her eyes. Air refused to go into her lungs. All the blood in her body congealed into one solid rock. A quivering block of uselessness.

  She wanted her mom. Her dad. Wanted Uncle Robbie or Miss Amanda to appear, scoop her up and drag her home. Ground her for the rest of her life.

  Tall man was ten steps from her. His counterpart a close reach behind.

  SING.

  The acronym popped into her mind, in Amanda’s voice. Solar plexus. Instep. Nose. Groin. The last was most important.

  How many times had she made Ariana recite and practice it? Her movements were always clumsy and a little behind.

  If she ran, how quickly would they catch up and reenact the scene she’d witnessed? Hit her with a bat and take her belongings.

  Her stomach stabbed upward.

  She swallowed. Next time, she’d listen to her uncle. She’d avoid this area. Stay in school, finish all her homework and ask for more math equations.

  It wouldn’t save the man lying on the ground. Wouldn’t do a thing for her. Right. This. Second.

  She swung her bag at Tall Man, but didn’t release it. It hit its mark. With a tortured groan and a hand to his privates, he went down. The knife glinted in the other man’s hand. A crazed look entered his eyes, the sick smile still in place. As if she’d offered up a challenge he’d been waiting a lifetime for.

  Would he cut her deep enough to bleed out?

  Ariana threw her bag at his face. With outstretched hands, he tried to shield himself from twenty pounds of books. The makeshift weapon hit his torso and shifted him off balance.

  The knife clattered to the pavement. Skittered to a stop near he
r feet. A shaky hand picked it up. The slimy handle gouged into her palm.

  Tall Man was half-standing, an angry gleam tearing across his features. His teeth gritted tighter with each step he took toward her. One minute the knife was in her hand. The next it sailed through the air.

  Had she even aimed it?

  It hit the edge of his deltoid. Tracked across clothing and flesh with a quick slash. Hit the ground a second later.

  An aggravated cry filled the air. He grabbed his arm, brought back a palm full of red.

  Ariana made a dash toward the prone man. Arms circled her waist. Halted her progress. Her footing slid against the gravel as she tried to get traction. The hold tightened until she was against Short Guy’s chest, his arms pinning her to the spot.

  Hot breath poured over her cheek. Sent goosebumps dashing for cover across her skin. Behind them, Tall Man grunted.

  “Not so tough without that backpack.” A whiff of onions and something sharp wafted across her nose.

  Her heart threatened to jump from her chest. And run for safety.

  She was going to die. They’d leave her to suffer like the other guy. She’d never see her mom again. Or her uncle. Her friends. Amanda.

  SING.

  What did that stand for?

  Ariana raised her foot. Brought it down on his as hard as she could. A string of curse words flew from his mouth the same instant he flung her away. She stumbled forward a step, then caught herself. Ran toward the cell phone still on the prone man’s chest.

  Lose rock and gravel sliced against the skin on her knees as she slid to his side. She grabbed for the phone. Came up with the purple book instead. The spine dug into her palm.

  This guy wasn’t moving. Didn’t seem to be breathing. She sucked in a breath. If only he was. It would be an adult to help her.

  Unless he was one of them.

  No. This was a nightmare. Robbie would flick on her light and wake her up for school any minute. She’d complain about unfinished homework. Hope she’d destroyed the evidence of the mean notes her friend had sent her.

  “Get her!” Tall man yelled. His voice echoed against the buildings. One hand still held his crotch as he hobbled forward.

  She fumbled for the phone. It slipped in her hands. A slick film of red coated her fingers.

  A hand clamped on her right wrist.

  Her heart skyrocketed into her throat. The man on the ground gazed at her through one wild eye. The other was completely shut and swollen.

  “Y-you’re alive.” A stunted breath of air whooshed from her lungs.

  “Run.” The word came out garbled. Pain clung to each syllable.

  She didn’t need this man, Uncle Robbie or Amanda to tell her what would happen if they caught her. Would he survive if she left?

  An expression of complete agony ripped across his face as he staggered into a crouched position. Red droplets of blood oozed from the jagged piece of white sticking out from his right arm and splattered on the pavement beneath his feet.

  The other men halted. Shock covered their expressions.

  Prone Man glanced back at her. A glare filled his good eye. Would have frozen her to the spot if she hadn’t already been a solid cube of terror.

  “Get. Amanda.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAY HELLO. LAY down the facts. Gain her acceptance.

  Shouldn’t be hard, but this was Amanda Nettles. And she didn’t sway easily over a little pressure. Or break rules for anyone.

  Not anymore.

  Baker Jackson Robinson clenched his molars together. Repeated his plan. Tried to wrap his head around every possibility. And delete the knowledge that once upon a time things had been so much different.

  The logical part of his brain urged him to turn around, get back in his SUV and forget everything his heart was telling him. If innocent lives weren’t counting on him, he might listen. Might reverse his steps and tell himself he didn’t need Amanda’s easy smile, quick wit or take charge attitude.

  The lie couldn’t find purchase in his soul.

  The self-dissection had already failed, which was why he was right here. Approaching her apartment. And praying like crazy they could discuss more than work. Knowing that was where he had to start.

  His last fleeting foothold.

  This isn’t about you, buddy.

  Not directly.

  It meant he couldn’t rest until he tried, picked up the pieces and did it again. And he’d made the big mistake of letting too much time pass between this round and the last with Amanda.

  Success meant getting back up as quickly as possible. Starting in with another spurt of well-placed jabs. Or in this case, a careful demand for answers.

  Even if Amanda slammed the door in his face. Even if they weren’t on speaking terms, for reasons that didn’t make complete sense. At least not to him.

  This time he’d make her listen. Make her understand. And maybe he’d see the smile he loved so much, again. The crazy-beautiful light that appeared in her eyes whenever she discussed art, computers and law enforcement.

  The contentment he noted in her stance when she helped Ariana with schoolwork, listened to her girl-talk and aided Lilly with everyday activities.

  Not pain etched a mile wide, inside her eyes. And a quick escape. All because of one outburst they hadn’t seen coming. A shift in a harmless looking storm.

  He blew a breath between his lips. Managed to slow his heart a fraction. Walking in hot wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  He hadn’t been this tied in knots since...

  A long time ago, the answer to the question would have been never. That was before one sassy detective got under his skin and turned his world upside down. Before he realized he couldn’t live without the universe being in the ultimate Nettles Trendelenburg.

  Robinson rapped his knuckles across her door, the motion as needed as an apple corer for a banana. AtEase, or Addie, as Amanda referred to the security system as, had already alerted the woman inside. With it, she’d known of his approach thirty seconds before his flesh had hit the door.

  Had it given her enough time to store up her arsenal of sassy retorts? Or perfect her mask of indifference, so no one could tell the difference between true happiness and getting by?

  There was always the slight chance she wouldn’t open the door at all. Leaving him to wonder about everything.

  The humiliation of this venture. Her Audi parked in the lot. Why she hadn’t joined any task forces in the last six months. If she’d even listen to him now.

  All of it kicked a healthy dose of anger through his system.

  He should turn around. Forget this. Move on. Listen to his brain, for once, the only organ interested in saving the rest of him.

  The door swung open. Amanda stood on the other side, a black lacy shirt layered above a purple camisole. Light colored jeans clung to her long legs and probably her toned backside. One hand rested out of sight, on the other side of the door, her torso leaning against the partially open entry.

  As if his presence, at her door, were perfectly normal.

  “What’s up?” Scotch-colored eyes zeroed in on his face, steady and serious. Brown hair he’d run his fingers through on numerous occasions rested below her chin, in a stylish bob. The pristine ponytail she’d worn at the nape of her neck, for years, was gone.

  “You cut your hair.” He applied pressure to the corner of his tongue with his teeth. Wanted to snatch the words back. Come up with something a little cleverer. A sentence sure to knock her casual words—as if he were a pesky neighbor always coming over to borrow sugar—into orbit.

  Her free hand flicked to the strands. “People do that.”

  “I like it.”

  Shock and some indescribable emotion covered her face for half a second. “Likely story.”

  Hmm, he really did. It brought out her plump lips and upturned eyes. Although, she could probably shave her head and he’d still find her attractive. Of course, he’d try to talk her out of the
decision.

  “Can I come in?”

  As if she couldn’t decide if he were a wolf in sheep’s clothing or not, hesitation slid over her features.

  If he let it fester, she’d find a way to dismiss him. So, he harnessed his inner jerk and advanced toward her. The poor schmuck had been waiting for an opportunity to rise to the occasion, anyway.

  Why not now?

  Amanda didn’t move. Centered those scotch orbs on him and watched his approach with something akin to amusement dancing behind annoyance. “It’s not like you’re giving me much choice.” Those eyes bounced from where she stood to his feet and back.

  This, he could work with. Didn’t have many options if he wanted to succeed. Three young girls depended on it.

  Yeah. That’s all it was. Somebody else’s life hung in the balance. Not his.

  “I need a favor.”

  “So, you feel the need to stand on top of me?” Those plump lips pressed together as he rested inches from her. Close enough to bend down and brush his mouth against hers.

  “There’s plenty of room.” Too much space between them. And months of separation hadn’t cooled the need.

  The smell of wild flowers, exotic and all Amanda, rushed across his nose. The pulse at her neck had picked up speed. As if she were fighting the urge, her gaze flicked toward his lips and then back up.

  His body hummed with the possibilities.

  A kiss wouldn’t change anything between them. Once his mouth left hers, all of the pain would come rushing back.

  With no solution.

  Her lips parted on an exhale, her body shuffling back an inch. Those expressive eyes turned distant and a little cold. “I’m sure you don’t have to stoop to my level to find someone worthy of carrying your cause.”

  A solar flare of irritation slid down his spine. It spread like poison injected directly to the jugular. He ground his teeth together. Tried to tell himself this was better than stoic silence. Or any of its counterparts. “Turns out I do. And I wouldn’t call it stooping, as much as a hand up.”

  And he was sick of working with a know-it-all hotshot with more concern about climbing the ladder than saving lives. “Detective Brink has spent too much time around computers. His brain is warped with binary code.”