"Maybe I can scare them off," he said.
"Maybe we can," Amelia corrected. He started to protest but saw by the set of her jaw there was no point. He gave in, making a mental note to discuss her supposed timidity later.
"Dial 911 and keep it in your hand, ready to send," he said. Amelia did as he said, and then they began to move again.
The boy with the gas can spotted them first. He yelled a warning, and the other boys whipped around. David was the first to recognize them. He let out a string of curses that would have done Luke proud at that age.
"Evening, boys," Luke drawled. "Planning a weenie roast?"
"They'll tell my mom," David said rather desperately, and not to anyone in particular. "She'll lock me up for the rest of my life!"
And then, before anyone could react, he whirled and ran, darting through the alley. He was out of sight in seconds.
And Luke and Amelia stood facing five very angry young men, one holding a gas can that was leaking, the fumes getting stronger as he sloshed it around menacingly, and one flipping open his deadly blade.
Snake took a step toward them, knife at the ready. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Amelia.
"You do anything with that phone, bitch, and I'll cut your throat."
Luke's jaw tightened as the boy threatened her. And he wondered if he remembered enough about knife fighting to keep her alive.
Chapter 10
"Look, why don't we all just go home and forget about this?" Amelia said. It took every bit of control she had to keep her voice from shaking with fear.
"Why don't you just go on back to your books?" Snake said with a sneer. "Leave the real life to us. You can't handle it."
Amelia nearly gasped aloud. How had he done it, this angry street kid? How had he seen through her, down to the depths of her frightened soul, to the basic fear she lived with every day, that she was too much of a coward for real life, that that was the basis of her love of books and her faint-heartedness everywhere else?
"Don't," Luke said, "bite off more than you can handle."
As shaken as she was, Amelia couldn't miss the quiet warning in Luke's voice. She glanced at him, and there was not a trace of the fear she was feeling. She could see the faint glint of the gold earring and thought inanely of pirates repelling boarders.
"I keep hearin' what a tough guy you are," Snake said, waving his knife for emphasis. "But I don't think I believe it. I think you're all talk, like that mommy-whupped little brother of yours. Poor little rich kid."
Amelia forced herself to focus; her own pride didn't matter right now. And she didn't like the way Luke moved, the way he shifted his weight, the way he was standing there eyeing the five of them as if fighting were an option. "Luke, let's get out of here."
Snake laughed. "Yeah, you listen to the book lady here. Run, like your brother did."
"There's five of them. Come on," Amelia insisted.
"That's the way it works," he said to her, although he never took his eyes off Snake and the others. "Guys like this don't have the guts to stand by themselves, so they have to travel in packs."
Snake stiffened and muttered a name involving Luke's mother that make him laugh ironically. That was the last straw piled on Snake's uncertain temper; he leapt at Luke, knife at the ready.
Amelia smothered her instinctive scream. She stared at the oddly graceful dance that was unfolding. Snake stabbing, Luke dodging. The others closing in around them. Snake had the weapon, but Luke was bigger. Stronger. And, oddly, quicker.
The two circled. Feint, feint, stab, dodge. Seconds passed before Amelia remembered.
"Idiot!" she snapped at herself. And lifted her cell phone.
The next thing she knew was an explosion of pain through her wrist. She cried out, unable to stop the sound. The phone clattered on the ground. Her attacker, the one with the gas can, stomped on it with a booted foot.
Luke's head whipped around at the sound of her cry. Snake attacked.
Luke went down under the rush, and the two rolled on the asphalt.
My fault, my fault. The words rang in her head, the power of the guilt shoving aside even the pain of her wrist. Luke could be killed with that wicked knife, and it would be her fault.
And then they were up again. Luke broke free, seemingly unhurt. Snake, however, had a bloody nose. And he was no longer cocky; she could see in his face that he was enraged.
"Watch her!" Snake said to the boy with the can. "We'll take him!"
Warily, one of the others began to circle Luke. Frantically Amelia looked around for a weapon, anything. There was nothing nearby except for the gas can abandoned when the boy carrying it had seen her try to use the phone.
The two boys answering Snake's order lunged. Luke ducked. The two collided, one of them going down. Luke let momentum carry the other boy stumbling over him, careening into Snake. They both went down, the one swearing a string of curses as Snake's blade sliced him. Luke spun around just as a fourth one leaped. He drove a shoulder into the boy's belly and dropped him breathless to the ground.
Her guardian forgot all about watching her. He started toward the fray.
Stop him, stop him, stop him!
Desperate, Amelia grabbed the gas can and swung it in an arc toward the boy. The handle was slippery with the oily contents, and the pungent liquid sprayed out, drenching him. He staggered back, screaming as he rubbed at his face and eyes.
Snake was up. He came at Luke furiously. The vicious blade glinted. The boy who had merely collided with the other one and wasn't winded started toward Luke from behind.
Amelia ran toward them. It was as if her body had taken over from her paralyzed mind. It went into the movements so often practiced, the muscles moving in a way they knew well. Her mind seemed to be reacting, recording, rather than initiating.
One. Two. Three. Up. Snap. Kick. Contact.
She wasn't sure what she connected with. Harder than a stomach, softer than a joint. But it gave.
Leg back. Tuck. Land. Flex. Balance.
She overbalanced and had to catch herself. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking that had begun. By the time she recovered, Luke was beside her. He had Snake's knife in his hand.
She lifted her head and saw the boy she'd hit disappearing around the comer of the building. The smell of gasoline permeated the air. And they were alone.
She blinked.
"—all right?"
Luke had been talking to her, she realized suddenly. "I...yes."
"You're sure?"
She nodded. She gave herself a mental shake. "You? Are you all right?" When he nodded in turn, she pressed the matter. "Are you sure? That knife..."
He lifted the blade and flicked it shut with a quick motion that spoke of familiarity. "Did some damage to my shirt and nicked a knuckle, but that's about it."
She looked at his hands, saw the tracing of blood down his right index finger. It didn't look serious, and he was upright and talking normally, so with relief she accepted his assessment. And with that relief came a sudden weakness in her knees.
She almost fell, but he caught her. He moved until he was leaning against the wall, the yellow light from an outdoor wall sconce spilling over them. She shivered despite the warmth of the summer night. He pulled her against him, and she instinctively snuggled into the warmth of his body.
"Thanks," he said.
"What?" She was puzzled, but unwilling to part with his warmth even long enough to look up at him.
One of his hands came up to stroke her hair. It felt as good as his warmth. "If you hadn't taken those guys out, I would have been dead meat."
"Too slow," she said with a sigh, knowing it was true, she'd waited a shamefully long time before reacting. Fear, her old nemesis.
"Slow? Man, that flying kick move of yours is really something. You'll have to teach it to me."
"I'd rather," she said frankly "just avoid situations like that one."
She felt him chuckle before she
heard it. "As I recall, you jumped into this one with both feet well before you saved my butt."
She drew back then, looking up at him. "What else could I do? David was headed for trouble. I had to do something."
His arm tightened around her. "I'm glad for his sake there's someone here with the nerve to care that much."
"Nerve? No." She lowered her head and finished sadly, "I'm the world's biggest chicken."
She felt his arm move, then his finger under her chin, gently lifting her head. There was something in his eyes that warmed her as much as his body heat, but in a very different way.
"You've got a very mistaken idea about nerve," he said.
She shook her head. In the aftermath of a confrontation that had left her feeling utterly drained, she didn't have the energy to dissemble or deny. "I'm always afraid. Of anything new or the least bit risky."
"So is that really why you have all those posters up in your office?''
"Maybe I'm hoping some of it will rub off," she said, knowing how silly it sounded.
"Amelia, Amelia," he said, shaking his head, a small smile lifting one comer of his mouth. "Any fool who's too dumb to be afraid can wade into the middle of a fight. That doesn't take nerve, that's just stupidity. Now somebody with the sense to be afraid but who tries anyway... that's courage."
She wanted to accept his words, but the memory of how she'd stood frozen while he'd been fighting for his life made it hard.
"And that," he said, "you've got. Lots of it."
He believed it. She could see it in his eyes, in his face. But her own doubts must have shown, because he went on.
"And you do something that takes even more nerve, Amelia. You care. I wish I'd had somebody like you when I was David's age."
Moisture brimmed in her eyes at this unexpected declaration. "Luke," she breathed, unable to say anything more.
"But," he added, his voice suddenly thick and husky, "I'm glad I'm my age. That way I won't feel guilty for this."
He lowered his head and took her mouth, suddenly, fiercely. It was aftershock, she told herself, all the while knowing that what it was didn't matter, only that it was, that they were, in this moment, in this place.
She wasn't shocked this time, but that didn't lessen the effect of his kiss. It didn't lessen the heat that shot through her, didn't lessen the sizzling tingle that raced along every nerve. She was more aware this time, and she liked the hot, male taste of him. So much that she ran her tongue over his lips as he had hers, then probed deeper, over the even ridge of his teeth. He opened for her eagerly, and Amelia savored his groan of pleasure.
When at last he broke the kiss, Luke sagged back against the wall. Amelia could hear his quickened breathing, could feel the hammering of his heart, and this physical proof that she wasn't alone in this did much to ease her qualms.
It was a long time before the absurdity of it hit her; here they were, the reek of gasoline all around them, having just survived what could have been a deadly altercation, in the middle of downtown, the most public place possible, kissing like a couple of teenagers with no place else to go. It was a miracle that no one had come upon them, not even a police car.
A police car.
"We should call the police," she said reluctantly.
Luke stiffened. She felt it, and went on in a rush.
"I know you don't have fond memories of them here, but we should still call them. I mean—" she made a gesture that included both the building and the abandoned gas can "—this could have been arson."
Luke let out a long, audible breath, and she felt him, if not relax, at least become less tense.
"Look, I know there are good cops out there. Real good ones. Maybe even some here. But David's headed for real trouble. Criminal trouble. Like you said, this could have been arson."
"And?" she prompted, sensing that he hadn't finished.
"And he's already got a strike against him, simply for being my brother."
He sounded... not angry, not even upset, but there was that weariness she'd heard before. She wondered if just being here had that effect on him.
"Give me another chance," Luke said, "to try and turn him around before he winds up, if not in handcuffs, at the least etched permanently in the minds of all the cops around here."
Amelia hesitated. She didn't want David in criminal trouble any more than Luke did, but in fact, he already was. At least, he was involved in criminal acts; he just hadn't gotten caught yet.
But she couldn't deny he was right, she'd seen too much evidence that everyone remembered Luke McGuire chiefly for getting into trouble. And she'd wondered herself if that wasn't a factor in David's problems, either him trying to live up—or down—to his brother's reputation, or everyone expecting him to.
"At least wait until morning. After some sleep, maybe things will be clearer," Luke urged.
Whether it was what he said, that it was Luke saying it, or the pleading note in his voice, Amelia gave in.
"All right," she said. "But I at least want to tell somebody about this gasoline, before somebody comes along and tosses a cigarette out and blows up half the block."
"The fire department," Luke suggested. Then, with a lopsided grin, "I never pissed any of them off, that I know of."
"You're—" She broke off. She'd been about to say "incorrigible" but had suddenly realized it was very close to true, legally speaking. He was lucky his mother hadn't tried to have him declared so.
Probably would have taken too much of her time, she thought sourly.
"Let's get out of here," Luke said, "and stop breathing these fumes."
"Yes, please," she agreed.
She went over to retrieve what was left of her cell phone. She picked it up, then looked at Luke. "In a way, he helped you out. I would have called 911 if he hadn't hit my wrist and made me drop it."
"He hit you?'' Luke said with a frown. "Hard enough to make you drop it? I thought he'd just scared you."
"It's all right." She held out her right hand, flexing and curling her fingers. "Everything still works."
He took her hand in his and gently turned it, inspecting the wrist in the yellow light. She knew there was a red mark over the knobby bone below the thumb, but there was no other sign of injury.
"It could still be pretty bruised by tomorrow," he said. "You should ice it as soon as you can."
"I'll do that."
They headed back up the street toward her car, taking deep breaths of clean, summer-warm air. Amelia stopped at a pay phone to make her call to the fire department. When they at last reached where she'd parked, Luke looked over the low-slung, expensive black coupe.
"Nice," he said.
"It was my father's. He bought it just before he died." She smiled sadly. "I pushed him to it, I'm afraid, trying to nudge him out of his apathy after my mother died. It's far too extravagant for me, but it seemed too much to start car shopping all over again when I don't drive that often."
"So you picked it out for him?"
She shrugged. "I guess you could say that. I tried to pick something racy, that would... energize him or something, I guess. It didn't work. He only drove it a couple of times."
"Does it energize you?"
She considered that. "I've driven it faster than any other car I've ever had. Does that count?"
He grinned. "It counts."
"Is that what does it for you? Fast cars?"
He gave her a long, steady look that made her suddenly nervous, wondering what he was thinking. But when he answered her, the answer was innocuous enough.
"I'll admit to a certain addiction to speed," he said. "But I don't play with that particular fire that much anymore."
The words What fire do you play with? rose to her lips, but with the old adage of not asking questions you don't want the answer to in mind, she held them back.
"Where's your bike?" she asked instead.
"I walked." That surprised her; it was a good two miles to the motel. It must have
shown, because he shrugged and added, "I like to walk at night. Call it an old habit I never broke."
She wondered if that meant he wanted to continue to walk. But he had just been in a fight....
Just then he twisted slightly, as if testing for pain, and that decided her. "Would you like a ride?"
After a bare moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Thanks." He nodded at the car. "Never even ridden in one of these."
"Do you want to drive it?" she asked impulsively. Then, embarrassed at herself, she stammered, "No, of course not. It's probably boring, after your motorcycle. That was silly. I—"
He cut across her nervous chatter. "I'd love to."
"I... All right." She handed him the keys.
He took a moment to familiarize himself with the controls, then settled down into the leather seat. "Any quirks?"
"No," she answered, then smiled. "Except it slides up to eighty real easy."
He laughed. She liked the sound of it and couldn't help thinking that he'd probably had little reason to laugh when he'd lived here. And wondered how long it had taken him to leam after he'd left.
"Mind if we take the scenic route?''
It was late, and she should be exhausted, especially after what they'd been through, but instead she found herself oddly exhilarated. "No, go ahead."
Somewhat to her surprise, he kept it well under eighty. They went rather sedately down the hill to the beach, where the pier stretched out to the ocean and the palm trees seemed to emphasize the balmy summer air. She rolled down her window to smell the salt air.
"I keep meaning to take my lunch and come down here to eat it," she said, gesturing at the picnic tables set up in the grassy park next to the sand. "But something always seems to come up. Odd to think that people travel days to come here, and I can't even make it for lunch when I'm a few blocks away."
He made the turn onto the loop that rimmed the pier area, with its tourist shops and restaurants, then started down the coast road that ran along the long stretch of sandy beach the town was gifted with. "I'll bet people who've lived a long time in Anaheim don't go to Disneyland much, either," he said.
The Reture of Luke McGuire Page 12