Rogue Wave: Cake Series Book Five

by Bengtsson, J.

  Nothing had ever looked so good. So appetizing. So right. A rush of euphoria raced through me. I’d never felt so alive.

  I rocked with her as the frenzy built, and when I met the end of her with one final thrust, I erupted deep inside. With every movement, every spasm that traveled between us, our connection was sealed.

  * * *

  Because Sam was hiding my existence from her crazy mother, I dropped her off at the grocery store where she’d parked her car earlier in the day. This was where we’d part ways until the day the two of us could bring our relationship out into the open. My birthday was fast approaching, and Sam feared if her mother caught wind of what we were doing in my truck after hours, she’d try to have me arrested when I came of age. I hadn’t met her mom, but I wasn’t going to mess around. I’d come too far, changed my ways too much, to get thrown in the slammer for loving her daughter.

  My family was another story altogether. They’d love Sam, and I wanted to introduce her to them, but she was understandably nervous around parental figures. It had taken some convincing, but she’d finally agreed to meet them on my upcoming birthday.

  One place we no longer had to hide was at school. There, everyone knew we were a couple; well, a couple with a ‘plus one’ in the form of one very tall and very skinny best friend named Shannon O’Malley. If ever there was a cock blocker, it was she. But because Sam refused to be that girl who abandoned her best friend for a guy, Shannon had become a constant fixture in our relationship. Luckily, we got along like dysfunctional siblings.

  “Are you sure you can’t hang out tomorrow?” I asked, already knowing the answer but testing her for fissures.

  “You know Shannon and I are having a girls’ day. But you’ll meet me on the beach Monday morning, right?”

  “On a school day?” I asked in surprise, because even though Sam had become a bit of a bad girl, she never neglected her studies. “You rebel!”

  “Think, Keith. What have you been talking about for two weeks now?”

  “That we should be allowed to bring pillows to class?”

  “No,” she laughed. “In what world would that be a good idea? I’m talking about Staff Development Day. We have it off, remember?”

  “Oh, fuck yeah!” I slapped the top of my truck. “I totally forgot! We get to spend all day together.”

  “We do,” she said, cuddling up to my side. I bent down, smiling as I planted a wet kiss on her lips. Man, I couldn’t ever remember feeling this good. With Sam, the possibilities were endless. I’d already decided that wherever school took her, I’d follow. That was how committed I was to us. But I’d do my part and make something of myself, so I could be the man she deserved. Things were falling into place. Our future looked bright. Gathering my girl into my arms, I nuzzled her neck and whispered sweet somethings in her ear, and then with our surf date confirmed, I gave her a quick kiss goodbye, and we parted ways.

  Had I known it would be our last day as a couple, I would have savored the moment, but hindsight was a fickle bitch.

  14

  Samantha: I Know Him

  Shannon and I had spent the day in Los Angeles with her mother, returning late evening after shopping, eating dinner, and watching a movie. Nothing seemed amiss until I stepped through the doors to my house and my mother came at me like a bullet from a gun.

  “Oh, my god.” I jerked back, hitting the wall behind me. What had I been thinking? Why had I let my defenses down? Normally I opened the door a smidge and peeked inside first, but my day had been so light and easy I forgot about the loaded weapon inside my house.

  “Where have you been?” she screeched, coming straight for me.

  I sidestepped her; these days I didn’t allow my mother to get the upper hand. She seemed to understand that I was stronger than I’d ever been, and the days of physical tyranny were over. She could assault me with her words, but her fists would never touch me again.

  “I told you I was out with Shannon. You knew that.”

  The television was blaring in the living room, and I took in her anxious face. “Well, I figured you’d come home early, under the circumstances.”

  “Under the circumstances?” I questioned. “What are you talking about?”

  My phone rang then. I checked – it was Shannon. I’d just left her. What could she possibly need from me three minutes later? I ignored her call. It rang again.

  “Do you have any idea what’s happening out there? There’s a madman on the loose! And what has my daughter been doing – traipsing around like some whore?”

  If she only knew. As far as my mother was aware, I was as pure as the day I was born, so those insults were meant as character assassination and nothing more.

  “Wait. What are you talking about, a madman?”

  My phone rang again. Shannon. Now I was getting a bit worried, but I knew my mother would go ballistic if I interrupted our little scream session for a personal call. Once again, I ignored it.

  “The kidnapper?” Her voice reached the highest crescendo. “How do you not know? Honestly, Samantha, I’m surprised you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere yourself.”

  She was too kind. My mother always did have a way with words. But I was too interested in the details of this madman to lash out at her. “What kidnapper? What are you talking about?”

  “The boy, Samantha, the one who was snatched off the street a few hours ago right here in our little town. It’s all over the news.”

  In the living room I could see a press conference happening on the television, and I bypassed my mother’s reporting to get a more accurate take from the professionals. A line of reporters was firing off questions for the officer in charge.

  Not wanting my information to come from anyone but her, my mother stepped in front of the TV and rushed out the details. “It happened right down the street at that business park off Jenkins. Thirteen years old. He was skateboarding with his brother, and some guy just snatched him up. I’m sure he’s dead by now.”

  I fought the urge to blast my mother for her insensitivity when a picture flashed on the screen and I took a step back. The kidnapped boy… he looked like Keith, but he wasn’t. I blinked in horror.

  “What… what’s his name?”

  “Who?”

  “The kidnapped boy! His name?” I raised my voice past acceptable levels and I braced for her fury, but my mother seemed too stunned by my outburst to retaliate on cue.

  “Jake McKallister.”

  The weight of a monster wave clobbered me and I stumbled backward, barely keeping myself from toppling over the coffee table. My phone rang again. Shannon. That was why she was calling. She already knew what had happened. Tears gathered in my lashes, preparing to splash down my face. Keith.

  “Samantha!” My mother’s shrill voice burst into my thoughts. “What in the world is wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Are you sure?” I whispered, black dots spinning through my vision and threatening to take me down. “The name. Are you sure about the name?”

  “Yes. Like I said, it’s all over the news. What’s gotten into you?”

  “I… I know him.”

  “You know the kidnapped boy?” she asked, shocked by the turn of events. “How?”

  “I mean, not him. I know his brother. From school.”

  But in a way, I did know Jake because Keith talked about him all the time. I knew of his musical talents; Keith swore he’d be a rock star someday. I knew he was the brother Keith was closest to, and that he sometimes felt unworthy of his devotion. I knew these things because there were moments on those boards when we were bobbing on the ocean that we swapped truths. If what my mother was saying was true, Keith had just lost his Sullivan.

  * * *

  My first call was to Shannon to confirm what I hoped to hell wasn’t true. The second was to Keith. When it went unanswered, I steadied my shaking hands on the kitchen counter and bit back the fear – for Jake, and for Keith. This had happened several ho
urs ago, but he hadn’t reached out to me. Not even once. We talked all day, every day, sometimes even late into the night. If Keith wasn’t contacting me over this, he either physically couldn’t, or worse, he’d already mentally checked out. I had to get to him.

  Despite the fact that it was already past my curfew, I grabbed my car keys and sprinted to the door. Leaving my mother’s fervent protests behind, my only focus was getting to Keith before he did something he couldn’t take back. I prayed my fear was misplaced, but Keith had more pharmaceutical skeletons in his closet than others knew. Those weeks leading up to his decision to leave that whole life behind, Keith had not only been smoking weed but also popping pills and huffing. Had he not gotten out when he did, things could have gotten very far out of control.

  But now, mere months after escaping that life, his sobriety was being tested in the worst way possible, and I wasn’t sure he had the discipline to keep from coming unhinged.

  I was a block away from Keith’s house when it became apparent I wasn’t going to be able to get there by car. Two police cars were blocking the entrance to his street, which forced me to park and walk the final distance. What I saw when I arrived drew me up short. A line of dark, unmarked vehicles mixed with police cruisers. Reporters. Lights. And screaming – so much screaming.

  I came to a halt several houses down, a rush of ice hardening my veins. A woman, who I could only assume was Keith’s mother, was wailing from somewhere inside his house. I was familiar with that sound. I’d sobbed the same chorus the night I’d learned about Sullivan. I remembered it like yesterday: that terribly personal moment when the truth seeped in with a sickening thud.

  Had the sadness already gripped Keith’s heart? Would my sweet, goofy surfer boy ever be the same after suffering the dire consequences of tragedy? Keith was inside that house, and he needed me. I pushed forward through the crowd.

  “Miss, I need to ask you to back up,” a young officer said, herding me away from the scene. No more than a few years older than me, he looked like he was playing dress-up in his father’s uniform. “No one is getting through unless you have proof of residence.”

  “No. I don’t live here. I’m just… that’s my boyfriend’s brother who’s missing.”

  I didn’t miss the flinch that skipped over him. Maybe with more years on the job he would develop his poker face, but for now, the officer looked as horrified as I felt.

  Did he know something I didn’t? Was that what he was so unsubtly trying to hide? A gasp ripped from my throat. “Oh, god, Jake’s not dead, is he?”

  The officer turned his attention to the house before twisting his head back toward me. “I don’t know, miss, but I figure he probably wishes he was.”

  15

  Keith: Rug Burn

  It was strange the things that mattered when everything was right in the world – like the internet dropping out in the middle of a game or someone forgetting to replace the roll of toilet paper. When life was easy, even the slightest irritant became paramount, and it wasn’t until hell rained fury down upon my cushy little existence that I was able to see what was really important. Family.

  And now part of us was gone – stolen into the night. I didn’t know where to go or how to conduct myself. Activity swirled around me, but I experienced none of it. The fear was all-consuming. Jake was gone and, after the story Kyle told of his last moments, there was a good chance he wasn’t coming back – at least not without a goddamn miracle. And I had my doubts whether my family, as a collective whole, had done enough to warrant such blessings.

  While my distraught mother wailed at the top of her lungs, a feeling of doom incapacitated me. I knew instinctively if Jake didn’t come home, our family would not survive this. My thoughts shifted to Sam. How had she kept her head above water? What reserves had she tapped into to keep going when her world fell apart? I’d been there for her when she’d poured her soul out to me. I’d given her comfort and the reassurance that she wasn’t alone. But I’d had no idea what I was talking about – no idea of the pain that was attached to her loss. When it came right down to it, we all walked through the darkness alone, and, god help me, if this nightmare was real, I wanted to be the first one blazing the trail to oblivion.

  So as the hours ticked by with no sign of my little brother, and with no glimmer of hope, I began looking for an out. And, oh man, was I ever ripe for the plucking. It would take nothing for the bad influences to wrap their hands around my neck and drag me under. I hadn’t been clean long enough to adopt any new coping mechanisms, and even though I’d thought that life was behind me, it was actually still there, just lying dormant and waiting for the right trigger to relight the smoldering itch inside. And what could be more igniting than losing my little brother to a demon?

  The phone vibrated in my trembling hand. Sam. Again. Why couldn’t I just answer her call? I needed her right now. She loved me. I loved her. If anyone could talk me off the ledge, it was my girl. So why then was I refusing her help? The answer was obvious. I refused to allow myself the luxury of her voice because Sam would want me to face the reality – to deal with it clear-eyed. But with clarity came pain, and if I’d proven one thing in life, I wasn’t strong enough to endure tough times. Hell, even mildly uncomfortable ones were enough to push me over the edge.

  I shoved the phone in the drawer and sprawled out on my bed, regret burning a swath through my tormented brain. Instead of savoring the minutes I’d had left with Jake, I’d spent those final hours as I did any other given weekend in the McKallister household – arguing with my brothers. It was our unique way of beating back the boredom. Today’s squabble had been nothing extraordinary… except now, in hindsight, it made me want to throw up.

  Like the bratty little brothers they were, Jake and Kyle had snuck into my room while I was playing video games and rearranged the entire floor plan. They’d pushed my bed under the window and wedged my dresser into the closet. They’d even removed the posters from my wall and flipped them upside down. I’d been livid and felt justified teaching them a lesson. Jake was first, and like a caveman, I’d dragged him down the hallway of our family home. Not that he’d taken offense. Jake was a McKallister boy, after all. Retaliation was not only expected but anticipated. In fact, he’d acted as if sustaining a series of rug burns was the most fun he’d had all week.

  On any other day, our argument would’ve faded away like all others. But now that it was possibly my last memory of him – and maybe Jake’s last memory of me – all I wanted to do was rewind the whole day, before he and Kyle decided to go out skateboarding, before a gun was pressed to his head… before my little brother had become a statistic.

  Smothering my face with a pillow, I tried to block out the images of Jake and what he had to be going through – if he were even still alive. Of course he was. I couldn’t give up on him. There was always hope, right? Jake had only been missing for about eight hours, and that meant we had time for a miracle. He could still be set free and come home – not unscathed, of course, but we could deal with the aftermath later. I think I spoke for us all when I said we’d take any outcome that didn’t end in death.

  Mom’s wails had died down. I knew I should be out there offering her my support. Or I could be at the hospital where Kyle was currently being treated for the injuries he’d sustained in the kidnapping. At the very least, I could be with Emma on the couch quietly deflecting her offers of serving me up the now-cold dinner still sitting on the kitchen table. But I wasn’t hungry – well, not that kind of hungry, anyway. The only thing that could satiate me now was tucked away in a shoebox in the far corner of my closet. I’d meant to rid myself of its contents long ago, but like that Ho-Ho hidden away in a yo-yo dieter’s pantry, it was still there, patiently awaiting my relapse.

  As the night turned to dawn with no news of my brother, I crawled from my place of safety and retrieved the box. Sam’s beautiful face filled my vision, that sun-streaked hair of hers blowing in the breeze as she told me she loved me. I c
ould lean on her. She’d understand and help me face the challenges ahead with clear eyes and a functioning brain. I clutched the box, the one that promised sweet relief from the pain.

  I’m so sorry, babe. So damn sorry, but I’ve got to wipe you from my memory banks – just for tonight.

  Deep down I think I already knew it wouldn’t be just one night – not for me. This was one more crossroads, and I was about to make another very bad decision.

  With regret already tearing up my gut, I opened the lid.

  16

  Samantha: To a Head

  I sat in my car watching the house. Nothing had changed in the three weeks I’d been coming here after school to do my homework and stake out the McKallister family residence. Jake was still missing and Keith was still gone, lost to a world I didn’t understand.

  Those first few days after Jake’s abduction, I was convinced Keith would come for me. We would talk and cry and hold each other. I would help him through whatever obstacles were keeping us apart. But that day never came. It was as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth. Well, not totally. His stoner friends knew where he was, but they weren’t talking, which left me scrambling to find my boyfriend before the dark forces swallowed him whole.

  My daily searches at the beach turned up nothing, and even my stakeouts of his family home – the ones that got me a talking to by the FBI - hadn’t yielded any clues. As everyone searched tirelessly for Jake, no one seemed to notice that the boy I loved appeared to have dropped off the face of the earth. And I wasn’t entirely sure anyone except me was looking for him.