He was right. They couldn’t see any of the houses or nearby stores. Better still, nobody could see them. Complete privacy.
Tiny, soft ripples rolled across the water. A fine layer of fog drifted across the calm surface dotted with leaves and a few small sticks. Lexi watched, waiting for the flip of a fish or the bubbles from a turtle hopping off a log. Nothing. Just the gentle solitude. She tucked away her reluctance about sitting on the coach’s death bench, nestled close enough to smell Ash’s spicy freshness, then let go of the tension in her shoulders. “This is just what I needed. Thanks for bringing me here, Ash.”
The trees shadowed his face but she was sure a smile crossed his lips. But if he’d smiled, where was that cute dimple? “Of course,” he whispered as he laid his arm across her shoulders. “It’s part of the plan.”
The plan?
She turned her face back to the lake but watched him from the corners of her eyes. She knew Ash was a thoughtful guy, more mature than the rest, but that seemed weird even for him. Was he trying to be romantic? Letting her know he’d been thinking of her?
It was kind of an odd thing to say, but so what? Lexi snuggled deeper into his arm and told herself to stop overthinking everything and enjoy the moment. What she wanted was to be with Ash and forget about the things she couldn’t control. Monica’s drama and that scene at her house with Dale threatened to ruin everything. She was letting that angst blur her feelings.
Not anymore.
Concentrate on this. Focus on now.
As her thoughts shifted back to Ash, she noticed a tiny change in him. Something she would’ve missed if they hadn’t been hanging out together. His left arm was still around her, but his right arm was flexing restlessly, his fist clenching, going loose then squeezing shut again. His gaze kept circling the lake, skimming across the thin mist floating on the water.
“What was your stepdad saying about…?”
Not that. “Something stupid, I’m sure.” Looking up at him from under her lashes, she added in what she hoped was a flirty voice, “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”
“Maybe we should.” His voice was strained, his fisted hand resting on his thigh as he looked down at her. “It was something about you.”
She dipped her shoulder in, pressed her body closer, trying to get him to stop thinking about bigmouth Dale and the mean thing that he’d said. Because if he did keep thinking about that nasty comment, Ash was going to realize that in the beginning, she’d been trying to use him. Mostly all she’d wanted was his name signed on a sheet of paper.
Lexi chanced a longer glance. The muscles along Ash’s jaw were tight and he was staring straight ahead.
She had to get him to think about something else. She smashed her boobs against him, murmuring, “Maybe—”
But that was as far as she got, because just as she was about to nuzzle his neck, he grabbed her elbows, jerking her up sharply. “Now I remember.” His narrowed gaze raked across her face. “Something about you going out with a different guy every night.” He shoved her arms higher, making her slide forward, lifting her off the bench. “I want to know exactly what you did. With Peter. Zeke? Who else?”
She gasped. “I didn’t do anything with either of those guys.” That wasn’t exactly true, she’d done some stuff with Zeke, but not in the way Ash meant.
“Who then?”
He sounded like Dale.
“All of them?” His hot breath grazed her cheek, his fingers squeezing her bones. “I should’ve figured it out. You’d do anything just for a signature.”
Finally, she found her nerve to speak up for herself. “Where is this coming from?”
All traces of the guy she’d thought she’d known were gone from his face.
He sneered. “Maybe you are like that bitch Monica.”
Lexi fought against his grip and the idea that she was anything like Monica. “No. I’m not.” But even as the words fell from her lips, she started to wonder if she’d been lying to herself. She’d done what she’d done. A user is a user, after all.
The sneer faded and his voice was less harsh as he asked, “Then why won’t you use what you have against her?”
Because it’ll take me down too.
Should she tell him he was right, that she’d talked to players to get them to sign? Worse still, she’d done a little more than talk. Been ready to do a little bit more. But if she admitted that, the other truth about her being ready to manipulate him in the same way was just a step away. She scrambled through her thoughts, trying to grasp how the conversation had gotten so ugly so quickly. What was Ash trying to do? Clear the air?
“That’s all in the past.” His razor-edged whisper cut the air. “You won’t be hanging around like that anymore.”
He let go of her arms, swung back, grabbed the foul blanket, wrapped it around her and used it to pull her to him. It happened quickly, all in one motion, so now she was pressed against his chest, his arms a hard, tight bind around her.
Unbelievable but true, Monica was right.
Ash was nasty. And a manipulator like Dale.
With all the strength she had, she got her hands up between them, planted her palms on his chest and shoved. His arms spiraled and he wobbled for a few seconds until he grabbed the back of the bench. She scrambled to her feet, her muscles trembling with anger and determination.
Fueled by anger, guided by instinct, she took off. Flying through the fog forming among the pines, her legs sliced through the gray mist. Behind her, Ash shouted her name, his voice sharp with anger.
She raced on.
He yelled again, louder, more desperate.
She kept running.
Harder.
Faster.
Deeper into the pines where it was darker, the ground more uneven.
Her heart thumped heavily, thrashing deep in her ribcage like a wild dog. Puffs of breath steamed from her lungs, and each inhale pinched her throat. She ran on, sucking in air as twigs smacked her face. On she went, spinning through the darkness. Fallen branches reached for her ankles as she tumbled through the night, kicking her way through the leaves and sticks.
From behind, Ash called her name again. His voice had changed, become more calm. Like he thought he could fool her into stopping, coming back to him. Of course she didn’t stop. She ran faster. He kept coming. The thumping of his footsteps got louder as he closed in behind her. Still she pounded ahead, carefully placing her feet so she wouldn’t fall.
Again he yelled her name, his voice that much closer.
Then he howled. And went silent.
He’d fallen?
Could she get that lucky?
Hope glowed inside her but she couldn’t waste time looking back so she raced on, picking up more speed as she reached the parking lot. The pavement was smoother, made it easier to run, so she moved even faster. The hammering of her heart forced her on through the clammy fog, her legs spinning hard as she headed for the road. Sharp puffs of breath came from deep inside her, giving her the power to keep going.
About the time Lexi reached Grove Street, Ash’s Mustang growled in the distance. She slowed, listening to the car’s engine and looking for places to hide if he came after her. But instead of growing louder, the sound faded.
He was gone.
She slowed to a jog, then a quick walk, waiting for her chest to stop heaving. As her breath returned to normal, the muscles in her legs started to tremble. Her face flashed hot. Her lips quivered. The reality of what had just happened sank in and traitorous tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them away.
Stupid. She’d been so stupid.
Stop crying.
He was like all the others.
An opportunistic ass.
She continued on down Grove, past the lively restaurants. Her breathing was still sharp and painful, but more from panic and rage than the running. Her wrists stung from where he’d grabbed her and there was a red patch on her right forearm.
Tears of shock
gave way to quaking anger.
She’d opened up to Ash, started to trust him, and he’d treated her like crap. It was the same thing that had happened with Monica, only with Monica she’d been part of it—wanted to be part of it. It was past time to get her life together and move on once and for all.
She stalled at the corner of Pine and braced her hands on her knees, gulping a few last steadying breaths. Finally her breathing was back to normal. When she stood back up, she caught a glimpse of the police station. She’d thought she was lucky, having Ash with her after Peter’s drowning. She blinked against the bright light gleaming across the parking lot. That night had been warm and foggy too.
The double doors of the station swung out and a cop strolled through, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. He lit up right about where Ash had parked his Mustang. Looking at the spot made her remember that hostile edge in Ash’s voice. It’d seemed strange then, him getting so upset about being questioned too, but she’d been so caught up in the shock of Peter’s death she’d easily reasoned it away.
How much longer was she going to be able to hold back the secrets? Who was she protecting, anyway?
She pulled out her phone and texted Monica, informing her that she was going to tell the cops what she knew about Jon’s last night and what they’d done with his bike. A response came right away.
Meet me at your house. I’ll be right there. We’ll go together.
Lexi looked from the screen of her phone to the station. Yeah, she could go now. Walk right in and get it over with. But it would be easier to go with Monica, explain everything together and be sure they said the same thing. Besides, if she went alone, they might think she was just making it all up, that she was hysterical. She probably looked crazy from being mad at Ash and running through the woods.
Lexi sent ‘k’ back and turned in the opposite direction of the station, toward home. If Monica didn’t come right away, she’d get her mom to take her. One way or another, she would tell her story before the night ended.
Just to be careful, she turned her attention to the street, scanning in both directions as she walked, listening for the rumble of Ash’s car. There was no familiar engine sound or flash of red in traffic. A while later, wiped out from the whole ordeal, she trudged toward her front steps. The spot where Dale’s truck usually sat was empty. Would her mother be rumpled on the couch, sobbing because they’d had another fight? If that was the case, she’d better wait for Monica outside. Maybe she wouldn’t even go in to let her mom know she was home from being out with Ash. No point in adding yet another useless emotional scene to the night.
Lexi stepped softly across the grass, her gaze fixed on the glaring porch light illuminating the front of the house. For once she didn’t care that her neighborhood was kind of shabby, that her house was plain and small. She could sit in one of the chairs, catch her breath, and be safe and alone for a few minutes. Some time to get her head together was exactly what she needed before dealing with Monica and the cops. But before she reached the first step up to the porch, a sudden jerk from behind stopped her in her tracks. It only took a split second for her to realize someone was holding on to her. In that tiny fraction of time, the adrenaline, still fresh in her body from what happened at the lake, flared and her body charged with energy.
Her first instinct, to thrust the attacker away while dashing for her door, ended up being the worst thing she could’ve done. Because the stranger grabbed her wrists and wrenched them up, twisting her arms. She thrashed, jerking side to side, throwing her weight against the force holding her, but the actions did no good. A savage scream gathered in her throat, but before she could free it from her lungs a sweet, moist rag filled her mouth.
Still struggling, Lexi made her second mistake—she gasped for air. The noxious fumes of the rag flooded her mind, and her world went black.
Chapter Fourteen
What Fun Doesn’t Look Like
Stinging pains like a million tiny needles jabbed into Lexi’s hands, wrists and arms. The fiery sensation burned deep inside her, numbing her muscles and making her feel only half there, like someone had pulled off her arms and legs then tossed her down, leaving her to wriggle across the floor like a worm. That couldn’t be, she told herself.
Wake up.
Wake up now and fight.
Her stomach turned, clenching as a horrific odor oozed into her pores and swelled her lungs. With each breath, she pulled in more of horrible smell until the stench permeated her body. Gradually she came to, working to open her eyes and struggling to remember.
So relieved to see her own front porch light.
Almost reaching her front door, a brief struggle…
The gray rag, smothering her…
That wicked smell, the blackness…
What had she noticed, right before being grabbed?
Step by step, she flipped back through her memory, narrowing her attention to that single fine line of events until she hit on the one thing that had stood out to her at the moment. The vacant spot in her driveway usually filled with her stepdad’s van. A rush of disgust rolled through her. Dale Welks had sunk to a new low, kidnapping his own stepdaughter. The possibility stirred the queasiness in her stomach, made her aching arms and hands throb with new fierceness.
No. She couldn’t let herself freak out. That was the last thing she needed, wild fear and anger wiping out her ability to think.
Lexi returned to her thinking. The memories started to fill in, especially the pieces of the park—her starting to think Monica was right, racing away from Ash. The fury in his voice, the hint of a threat. Was he so spiteful that he’d take her? His tone had softened after she’d run away. His calls had become less hostile, more pleading. Did that mean something?
Wiggling against the throbbing in her limbs, she tried to get the feeling to return so she could use her muscles. The tingling in her arms and legs was brutal but she continued on, anxious to get through the pain and move. Lexi struggled to sit and loosen her bound wrists, but when she moved her fingers she realized her hands were covered with a plastic bag. Even though another surge of fear threatened to make her lose control, she continued bending her fingers up and down over and over until the ripples of pain softened enough that she had sensation in the tips of her fingers.
The inside of the bag was damp. Sticky, maybe. From her own sweat? The plastic was pretty thin, grocery store shopping bag most likely. She wiggled, trying to poke holes in the plastic and fighting the twine wrapped around her wrists. With each movement, the stench surrounding her flowed deeper into her skin, saturating each quivering inch of her inside and out.
“Lexi?”
She stiffened.
Was the sound real? Or was that stink making her lose her mind?
She held her breath, kept herself completely still.
The voice came again. “You okay?”
She tensed, braced to defend herself as best she could.
“Lexi, it’s me, Monica. Are you okay?”
She sucked in air and ended up gagging on the swollen stink of the dark place. Blinking into the thick black air, Lexi forced her eyes to adjust. About ten feet away, the silhouette of Monica’s dark hair formed.
“Lexi? You okay?” The rustle of plastic being twisted came through the darkness. “He got me too.”
“Monica?” Disbelief swelled in Lexi’s mind. She fought against the confusion, trying to clear her thoughts.
“Yeah. It’s me.” The crinkle of plastic came again. “He got me too. I’m tied up, just like you.”
That made no sense.
“What does he want with you?” she asked, even though she was still uncertain about who had taken her. Taken them? “What does he want with me?”
“I don’t know.”
They’d said Monica had gone missing hours before she’d gone out with Ash. How long had she been gone before anyone noticed? Terror climbed up her back and cut off her air as more questions surfaced, bobbing along with
the others. How long had she been out? Where the hell were they? She tried to speak, but her throat had tightened and the only sound that came out was a hiss. The hiss turned into a cough, which turned into a gag. Soon Lexi was fighting for control of her breathing. She let the shudders in her lungs roll through her until finally the heaving stopped and she was left with a manageable pant. Inhaling through her mouth made the stench less unbearable so she continued, pulling the air through her mouth then exhaling through her nose.
The rasp of Monica’s sharp breath crept through the bleak stench. “We’re in trouble.”
Lexi continued focusing on her breathing, doing what she had to to straighten out her mind. That meant she had to stop thinking about what made sense and what did not. Speculation would make her head spin and get her nowhere. She needed to concentrate on the facts.
One new fact bubbled up—she had no real proof that Monica was actually tied up. The girl could easily be pretending. Of all this things she’d considered, that one, given everything that had happened, made the most sense.
“You!” Lexi wriggled from side to side, anxious now to get the feeling back in her legs so she could get to her feet. The other girl’s guilty silence exploded between them. She used her anger to energize herself and give herself the will to fight harder. “What kind of freak are you?”
“It’s not me,” Monica replied, her voice urgent. “Don’t you get it? We’re in trouble. Real trouble.”
Lexi had fallen for the girl’s lies before. That was in the past. “Who helped you?” She thrashed more, biting at the plastic covering her hands, jerking at the twine to free her wrists.
“Lexi!” Monica insisted, her voice taking on an unfamiliar edge. “I didn’t have anything to do with this. As a matter of fact, if I hadn’t come to your house, trying to help you, I wouldn’t be here.”
Trying to help her? The absurd comment stopped her cold. “You didn’t come to my house. And what do you mean trying to help me?” Lexi spat in disgust, the stiff cord cutting into her ankles as she squirmed against the cold, hard floor beneath her. “Like I’m supposed to believe that.”
Best Friends Never Page 14