I flick a bright green worm off my jacket and rub my temples. My mom has done this before—squatting while she “picks up her life.” She never remains clean for long. I’m aware of it, but it’s difficult to let go. Lewis is pulling away now that he has a girlfriend, which is what I feared and why I’ve held on so tightly. I lose everyone eventually.
My mom abandoned me a long time ago. I don’t know why I see space from her and the dangerous lifestyle she lives as another loss. You can’t lose the same person twice, can you?
Glancing around, I recognize a tree split down the middle. It’s supposed to be way off to the right. Definitely should have turned left back there. This would go more smoothly if I didn’t get lost.
I joke with Lewis and Zach that I know the Tahoe Basin like the back of my hand, given I’m full-blooded Washoe while they’re only half, but I totally don’t. Our native knowledge died a few generations ago when burly frontiersmen kicked us off our land. It doesn’t stop me from rubbing it in that both my parents are Washoe.
And that’s all I have to brag about when it comes to my parents. I never knew my dad, and the Sallees took me in after Lewis and his father found me by myself at the age of three, living off stale cereal and water in my mom’s cinderblock house on the reservation.
I sigh loudly. If I cut through the bushes to the left, it should get me back to that fork.
I walk around a boulder and squeeze through the bushes, but since this is a fool’s errand and I’ve messed it up thus far, I immediately trip over a random root and catch myself before I face-plant.
I dust off the pant knee that sports a new dime-sized hole.
Dammit, these were my good jeans. Pines have deep roots. This one—the one in the middle of my path—decides to reach for the stars? It belongs in the ground.
A whistle sounds in the distance.
What the hell is going on around here? I’m lost. I nearly ate it over a tree root. And now someone’s whistling in an isolated forest?
Long ago, my mom used to call me in from playing in the yard by whistling. It’s one of the few memories I have of living with her as a young child.
Am I closer to her cabin than I thought? Is she worried about me? My mother’s more focused on getting her money than anything else these days, but I was supposed to be there an hour ago…
Huh, maybe she is concerned. She said she was off drugs. And it’s not like cell phones work in the woods, even if she owned one.
Strange warmth blooms in my chest. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Shouldn’t still want my mother’s love. And yet I jog to make up the lost time.
Another whistle sounds, halting me in my tracks.
Okay, both whistles can’t be from her. They came from opposite directions.
A cold sensation sweeps my spine. It’s getting darker and I’ve never come across anyone out here.
Well—except for him.
Of course I ran into Tyler Morgan in the middle of nowhere. As if everything weren’t going downhill in my life, I run into the one guy I never got over. Just to spear the knife in my chest a little deeper, and wiggle it around for good measure.
I didn’t intend to have a relationship with Tyler after Holly’s party, but leaving him that night was torture. For a few days, I imagined we could make it work. Even after I returned home from the party, and Lewis’s parents told me my mother was in the hospital with a cocaine overdose.
I lived in a nice house with Lewis and his parents, but my mom and the druggie friends she treated like family were a part of my life too. I didn’t call Tyler back that weekend because I was afraid he’d learn the truth. I couldn’t handle the rejection. Not from him.
When Tyler showed up at my locker that Monday, he looked so hopeful. For an instant, my hope grew too. But then Holly showed up and Tyler believed her lies. I allowed him to think I had slept around, because it was easier than watching him leave me.
I thought I’d never see Tyler after he moved away to attend some fancy college. He should be off earning his white-collar salary and settling down with the girl who would someday give him two-point-three kids. Only there he was a couple of weeks ago, riding his mountain bike through the woods past my mom’s squatter’s cabin, while I sat on the porch, my mouth open so wide I’m surprised a fly didn’t take up residence.
I convinced myself I was holding on to something by leaving Tyler first, but I was wrong. I simply lost one more person I cared about.
A branch snaps in front of me. A tall, wide man in a denim jacket steps out from behind one of the trees, startling me.
Where the hell did this guy come from? He looks like he walked in off the street.
Fear lances through me, my heart racing. I’m mixed up with shady people right now. Maybe I shouldn’t be here either.
I speed-walk in the opposite direction toward my truck, looking over my shoulder every few seconds. The man watches me wordlessly, but he doesn’t follow.
I’m outta here. I’ll return later. Or I’ll make my mom come to me if she needs something so desperately.
Another man rises from behind the thicket in front of me. My footsteps falter, skidding in the dirt. Was he crouched? Waiting?
Shit. I sprint in a wide loop toward the road I came in on, praying my sense of direction is better on the way back. Terror courses through me, making my mouth dry, my mind racing as fast as my feet. I have no weapons. There’s no one out here besides me and these men. How could I be so stupid? I should have been more careful.
I’m dodging trees, darting in front of thick trunks to hide my retreat. No shouts for me to stop come from behind. The only noise louder than my heartbeat is my feet crunching through the brush.
My legs burn as I stumble over logs, scraping my jacket on prickly bushes. The sun has set and it’s getting darker. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re not here for me—
Branches snap behind me and an enormous weight slams into my back, knocking me off my feet. My hands and elbows scrape across the brittle forest floor as I’m pinned to the ground, whatever breath I have left rushing from my lungs.
I gasp for air, the scent of pine needles and dirt filling my nose. I buck to free myself, fear gripping me so tight no sound escapes, not even to scream.
I am unceremoniously rolled over, the guy in the denim jacket who appeared from behind the tree leering down.
I thrust my hand up to shove his face away, scratch, claw—whatever—get him the hell off me. He catches my wrist and binds both my arms to my sides.
“Let me go.” My voice comes out high and panicked. I hate showing fear. But sometimes the emotion chokes, oozes from pores, until the body rattles with the force of it.
The second man slows to a stop a couple of feet away. “You owe our boss money, little girl.”
The guy pinning me scoots further up my body, his hip digging into my thigh. I groan at the sharp pain. I have the cash I brought for my mom, but it’s a drop in the bucket compared to what I owe. He shifts and grips both my wrists with one hand, raising them above my head—a biting hold I can’t break, no matter how hard I pull.
He runs a callused finger over my cheekbone, down my throat, snagging my top and lowering it to the edge of my bra. “She’s not like the others. Pretty,” he says absently, his dark, heavy-lidded gaze moving to my face.
My throat dries to a sticky consistency, sweat beading between my shoulder blades. Would he hurt me—like that—because I’m late on my payments to his boss?
“I think we need to teach her a lesson in responsibility,” the one above says, his features shadowed.
“Help me! Someone help me!” I scream, squirming to get free, my voice going hoarse from the strain.
The guy in the denim jacket has a biggish nose, black eyes. He’s all bulbous features, an image straight from the funhouse wavy mirror. “We could teach her a thing or two.” He cups my breast. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
My heart is racing, I can’t breathe, can’t move. “Get off me, get off
me…” I screech.
Denim Jacket leans down. “Mira, is it?”
I wiggle my arm loose and grab the first object I find, a rock no bigger than my hand. I slam it into his head, but my angle is off and I barely catch the back of his skull.
He stabs my arm with his elbow, digging in the muscle until I drop the rock. I cry out in pain. “Bitch—” His meaty hand cracks across my face.
Stars flitter in my vision. I moan, rolling my head to the side.
Hot fetid breaths steam my ear. “Got a message for you, Mira. Pay. Up.” He shoves my chin, the hulking burden suddenly lifting.
I move to turn over, but the tip of a boot strikes my middle and knocks the air from my lungs. I cradle my stomach, gasping, curling into a protective ball. Another blow lands on my thigh and I cry out.
The tempo of kicks comes faster. I can’t catch my breath. A booted foot hammers my back as though stomping out a fire. A final crack to the side of my head makes what’s left of the evening light wink out. For a moment, I can’t see anything, not even shapes.
“That’s enough,” one of them says. “Let’s go.”
My body is patted down, the envelope with the two hundred dollars—the only cash I have—torn from my jacket pocket.
The men’s footfalls recede and fade. My head and the rest of my body intermittently burn and pulse in pain.
I allowed my mom to manipulate me. I borrowed money for her. That was my decision, and now these men are after me.
I’m no stargazing tree root with dreams of reaching the sky. I belong right where I am, in the dirt like the rest of my family.
I should have known I’d end up here.
Chapter Four
Tyler
I should have known Mira would cause trouble.
Goddamn. I stop pedaling my Diamondback and glance down the wooded mountainside to the obsidian lake reflecting the moonlight. What the hell am I doing out here?
I was at my sister’s place, where I’ve been crashing all summer, when I heard Mira had gone missing today. I didn’t realize it until I arrived, but my sister’s best friend Gen is dating Lewis, Mira’s best friend. Supposedly, Mira has been causing trouble for Lewis and Gen.
Mira is heartless. This is probably some ploy to get Lewis’s attention. Nothing has changed. I’m an idiot for biking out here, in the fucking black of night, to a secluded cabin, searching for the girl I said I’d never go near again.
I shouldn’t even know about this place, but as fate is a brutal bitch that enjoys batting me around, I happened to run into the one person in town I had every intention of avoiding. During a bike ride from hell, in which I attempted to exorcise my Colorado demons through physical torture, I managed to get into off-road terrain I probably would have thought twice about had I been in my right mind. I found a cabin, with Mira, of all people, sitting on the front stoop.
It was like a black omen.
I have no idea what Mira was doing out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s none of my business, but I decided to eliminate this location from the possibilities while the others search town. It would have been a challenge to direct anyone to this spot, and on the off chance she really is in trouble, someone should check it out.
I’ve run into Mira twice now since I returned home. The first time at this cabin a couple of weeks ago, the second time a few days later at a party I went to with my sister and her friends. Let’s just say, I didn’t stay long at that party. Before those two incidents, the last time I saw Mira was my final week of high school.
Mira never went to prom with Chad. In fact, I never noticed her with him again after that encounter in the hallway, and I never discovered who she was or wasn’t sleeping with. I didn’t want to know. I’d forgotten all of it, including how terrible I’d felt for weeks afterward. Until the day I ran into Mira in this forest. Then it all came rushing back.
I push off a boulder and grind the pedals, shifting to a lower gear over the thick, barely rideable underbrush. I’m roughly where I spotted Mira out here, give or take.
After a few minutes, I catch the silhouette of the cabin in the distance. I get off my bike and cross on foot. Cupping my hand to the glass, I peer inside a faintly illuminated window.
Twin cots rest beside an empty fireplace. The place is nearly barren, but not uninhabited. A woman sits at a spindly table. She’s the same woman who craned her head out the front door as I passed by on my bike a couple of weeks ago, while Mira swallowed her surprise from the porch, her gaze wide and clinging to me.
A man sits at the table along with the woman. They’re huddled beneath blankets, playing cards by the light of a camping lantern. Beer cans litter the floor. And Mira is nowhere in sight.
She isn’t here. I’ve done what I could for my sister and her friends. It was a waste of time, but hey, I’d rather someone else find Mira anyway.
Just to be certain I haven’t missed anything, I walk around the cabin and glance inside another set of windows.
Nothing. And the place is too small to miss her. Mira is definitely not here, but where could she be? She rarely strays from Lewis’s side. Though from what Cali has said, all that’s changed now that Lewis is dating Gen.
Well, I’m not going to worry about it.
Not my problem.
I make it back to my bike and climb on, taking in the cold and dark around me. It’s the end of summer, and the night air has a nip to it. I press the side of my watch, lighting up the face to check the built-in compass. The return trip to my truck would go faster since it’s downhill, but the dark makes speed impossible without risking impalement on a low branch.
I ride blind, relying on my watch compass to get me southeast to the start of the road. Partway down the hill, I stop to confirm my coordinates and make sure I’m headed in the right direction.
A whimper sounds nearby.
My pulse kicks up, an eerie sensation feathering the back of my neck.
Gotta be an injured animal. I hold my breath and listen.
The noise comes again. Only this time, it sounds like a moan…the kind of noise a woman might make if she were in pain.
My gut knots, images of Mira flashing through my mind.
Can’t be her. It’s an animal. I should keep a safe distance. But just in case…
I prop my bike against a tree and rush in the direction of the noise, my heart pounding. Up ahead, a patch of light-colored fabric moves, revealing a face that catches my breath.
I run over, kneeling beside her, my hands shaking as I touch her neck, her wrist. “Mira?”
Where the fuck is her pulse?
Her eyes flutter open, beautiful golden-brown irises shining, even in this dull light. Normally her eyes are nearly the same color as her tanned skin—only now her skin appears pale.
I scan her body: a gash on the side of her head, mottled skin along her cheekbone, torn fabric in her sleeves and jeans.
She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and swallows. “Tyler?” Her voice sounds bewildered and scratchy.
“It’s me,” I say, my tone gruff, a burning in my chest. For some reason, seeing Mira like this leaves me raw. “What happened?”
Her eyes flicker closed. She bites her bottom lip.
Mira’s no wilting flower. She rarely shows emotion, and to see what I suspect is pain and fear on her face? It’s too much.
I gently reach under her to help her up—carry her if I have to. “Come on. Let’s get you to the cabin. It’s not far.”
She shakes her head and winces. Her hand flutters to the side of her scalp. The section that’s matted and wet.
“Can’t go to my mom’s. Someplace else. Could you—could you help me to my car?”
A small, battered truck was the only other vehicle parked on the road I entered from. Either way—“You could have a concussion. You’re not driving anywhere. We need to get you to the cabin. It’s the closest place, unless…”
My shoulders tense. I look in the direction I came from. “Was i
t them, the woman and that man at the cabin? Did they do this to you?”
“No. It wasn’t them.”
But her omission implies it was someone. She didn’t just fall. “Then let’s go there. The nearest road is a mile and a half away.”
“My mom—she won’t…Forget it.” Mira shifts from me and rolls to her knees. “I’ll walk back.” She stands upright, swaying like a boat on the ocean.
I grab her elbow. “Mira, you can barely stand.”
I could ignore her protests and take her to the cabin, but she needs medical attention, and I doubt that cabin has anything in the way of an emergency kit.
Fine, we’ll do things Mira’s way. For now.
I place my arms beneath her back and knees and pick her up. Her eyes widen, her gaze running up my neck toward my mouth, where it lingers for an instant.
Which is long enough to scatter my senses.
Jesus, how can this girl still affect me? I’m over her. Was over her years ago.
She focuses on my eyes. “Now what?”
I haven’t moved. I’m holding Mira in my arms, convincing myself that what I once felt for her is gone.
I really should have chosen a different town to hunker down in for a few months. This place brings back too many unwanted memories.
I step forward, feigning confidence I don’t have. “We get on my bike and ride to my car.”
Her eyes search for my Diamondback, propped against the tree. “Both of us?”
I glare down to snap a retort about our options, because I’m in a piss-poor mood, but I lock on her beautiful face. She’s injured, and I’m mad for reasons I can’t explain and worried about her at the same time, when I should feel nothing but eager to get her back to her friends.
I give my head a mental shake. “Why don’t you stop talking, conserve your energy?”
Her mouth pinches as if she sees through to the insult. “Set me down, Tyler. I don’t want you holding me.” Her pale cheeks, which are normally a golden brown, darken even in this shitty light.
“Nope.” I hike her higher.
My demeanor is cool assurance, but I have my concerns about how this will work. Riding two-man goes more smoothly when one of the individuals isn’t incapacitated.
True Blue (Blue Series Book 3) Page 3