Fight or Flight

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  Van shrugged and Tom grabbed his button-down shirt off the back of a chair, shrugging it over his T-shirt. “I’m going out to get some air. Anyone want to come?”

  Kelsey could tell he wanted her to and hoped Van wouldn’t join them. Luckily, her friend was on board. She waved a lazy hand in the air and played with her cell phone.

  They went out the back door, joined hands, and started strolling. Kelsey examined the landscape around them, but there wasn’t much to see. Farmland, mostly, with a few trees and bushes on the property and a couple of silos in the distance.

  “Let’s check out the shed.” Tom raised their hands to point at the graying, rough-boarded building at the back of the yard. A wide gravel path led from the driveway at the side of the house to the crooked double doors.

  “Looks more like an old garage,” Kelsey said. The big doors looked heavy despite their dry condition, and as they got closer she could see a rusted metal latch holding them together. “Is it locked?” She tried not to be disappointed. It was probably empty or filled with junk anyway, but exploring it would have been something to do.

  Tom let go of her hand. She wrapped her sweater more tightly around her and tucked her hands under her arms while he wedged his fingers in the crack between doors and pulled one open a few inches. They creaked.

  “See anything?”

  “Too dark.” Tom let them go and examined the padlock on the latch. It looked as old as the building. “I bet I could break this.”

  “Tyler might get pissed if you do.”

  Tom shot her a look.

  “Well, it’s his property! And he’s been helping us.”

  “He also dumped us here with nothing to do and no way to contact them.” He ran his hand lightly up the side of the door and tugged on the hinges. “I’m bored as hell.”

  “We could find another way to occupy ourselves,” she said hopefully. Tom peered under his upraised arm at her, and she moved closer to press her body up against his. “It’s been forever.”

  He took the bait, bending to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her, and trapping her against the wall. Their mouths had barely met when pain erupted in the back of her head.

  “Ouch!” She jerked away from the wall and touched her scalp, which seemed okay. A huge splinter of wood stuck out of the wall behind her. “Okay, maybe out here isn’t such a good idea. But Van’s inside.”

  “Don’t worry.” Tom caught her hips and spun to put his own back against the wall. His jeans protected him, and since he was taller than her he leaned forward to kiss her, anyway. He pulled back slightly. “Better?”

  She nodded so their noses rubbed. “Better.” She pressed her lips to his, licking them once before backing off an inch again. “Much better.”

  She didn’t know how long they stood there making out. A while later, when parts of her were achy and damp and she was barely aware of where they were, the door to the house slammed and Van shouted to them.

  “I’m bored out of my fricking skull in there!”

  Kelsey turned a little—Tom didn’t let go of her—and watched Van trip lightly across the grass. “What do you want us to do about it?”

  Van grinned. “Let me in on the action.” She playfully shoved Kelsey aside and jumped up to kiss Tom. “Let’s do a threesome. I’ll even go for some girl-on-girl for ya, Tommy-boy.”

  “Ugh! No way!” Kelsey pushed her back and plastered herself against Tom so Van couldn’t get close again. “That’s so gross.”

  “No, it’s not!” Tom laughed. He pulled Van in to his side and pretended he was going to kiss her for real. Kelsey slugged him and he laughed again. “Okay, fine. One at a time then.”

  “In your dreams,” she snapped, only partly joking now. What if Tom really did want Van? What if Van’s boredom got out of hand and she started playing with him? Kelsey didn’t think she’d really try to steal him from her, but she did like to say outrageous things and had acted on them once or twice.

  Luckily, her friend dropped the game and turned to look at the lock on the door. “So what’s inside here?” She peered through the crack. “Too dark. Any other way in?”

  “Didn’t look yet.” Tom held Kelsey against him, his hands roaming over her even though his attention was on Van and the building. “Can’t be windows or there’d be some light in there.”

  “I’m checking.” Van tromped down to the end and disappeared around the corner.

  Tom attacked Kelsey’s mouth again. She thought maybe they should go inside and hide in one of the bedrooms, but then Van appeared on their left.

  “Nope. Nothing.” She passed them and yanked on the doors. “I bet if we pulled hard enough these screws would come out.” She fingered the rusted metal. “It’s totally ancient.”

  Tom heaved a put-upon sigh and let Kelsey go. “Fine, whatever, let’s try it.”

  Van shot him a dirty look, but together they started pulling on the right door while Kelsey watched, feeling bad for fooling around in front of Van and ignoring her friend, but resenting her for being there and getting in the way. Couldn’t she just hang out for a while? Read a book or something? After all, if the people after Kelsey got her, she might never see Tom again. She should get everything she could before that happened, so they both at least had good memories and no regrets.

  A loud crack echoed in the still air, and Van and Tom fell back a step. The door sagged, held up by the lock in the front, but the top hinge had broken.

  “Whoops.” Van giggled.

  “Come on, guys, this isn’t our property.” Kelsey moved forward, anxious. “You’re going to destroy it.”

  “I can fix it, if there are tools inside,” Tom said. “But now we have to see if there are.” He smiled, looking carefree and charming, and her heart melted. Unfortunately, her heart didn’t overrule her brain, so the whole thing just pissed her off.

  “Just stop. We don’t need to get in there. Leave it alone, and we’ll go back inside.”

  “Aw, come on, Kels!” Van cajoled as she tried to see inside from the opening by the hinge. “It’ll be cool.” She gripped the side of the door in both hands, braced her foot on the wall of the garage, and pulled. With a loud shriek, the screws holding the bottom hinge pulled out of the wood and the whole door jumped outward a few feet.

  “Sweetness!” Van disappeared inside and Tom followed, pausing to hold his hand out for Kelsey. Feeling like the doomed goody-goody character in every teen horror film, she shoved his hand aside and pushed past him into the dark interior.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Van agreed.

  Kelsey moved away from the opening so she didn’t block the light. Far from matching the exterior of the barn-garage, the inside was in perfect shape. Dusty and rife with spiders, but otherwise amazingly clean and well organized. Shelves lined two walls. On the left were the usual things you found in a shed: paint cans and supplies, rolled or folded drop cloths, jars of screws and nails and drill and driver bits, cases looking like they contained power tools. The back wall had car parts. Kelsey saw a carburetor and boxes of filters and spark plugs as well as containers of oil and transmission fluid. Bags held various belts and things her car repair classes hadn’t covered. A radiator leaned against the wall under the bottom shelf, next to four pristine tires. The right-hand wall was pegboard, and rakes and other yard things hung on it.

  “Awesome.” Tom wandered over and fingered a chainsaw, which hung next to an axe and a pair of pruners. “Some cool stuff in here.”

  But Van had glommed on to the tarp in the center of the building. It wasn’t deep enough front to back, so somehow Tyler or someone had maneuvered a car so it was sideways, the nose aimed at the right-hand wall.

  “What do you think it is?” Van asked.

  “Well, look,” said Tom.

  “I like to savor things.” She bent and lifted the edge of the tarp. “It’s red.”

  “It can’t be anything special or he wouldn’t have left it here untouched
all this time,” Kelsey said. “He hasn’t left Ohio in two years, remember?”

  Van lifted the tarp higher. “It looks pretty clean. Shiny.” She moved to the front and loosened the drawstring holding the tarp tight around the vehicle, then did the same at the back. “Ready? Back up, Kels.”

  Kelsey did, and a second later Van whipped the canvas into the air and yanked so most of it flew off the car without touching it.

  “Whoa.” This time all three of them said it at once. Kelsey’d been wrong. What they saw was special.

  “It’s a sixty-four Corvette,” Tom said in the kind of voice usually reserved for stuff like Superman stopping a plane crash.

  “It’s cherry,” breathed Van, running her hand along the rear of it.

  “Not quite.” Tom couldn’t stop touching it, either, as he circled around to the driver’s side. “Looks like the upholstery needs some repair, and the steering wheel isn’t the original.” He bent to look through the window. “God, I want to drive this.”

  “How do you know so much?” Kelsey drifted closer, unable to help herself despite her lack of interest in cars. This one had such gorgeous lines. She traced the ridge along the side, and marveled at how shiny the chrome on the windows was. She glanced up just in time to see Tom’s frown of incredulity.

  “I’m a guy. We know cars. It’s, like, wired into us.”

  “Do you think it runs?” she asked him.

  He tried the door, but it was locked. He peered through the window again. “I can’t believe the body would be in such good shape if the engine wasn’t, too.” He straightened and looked around. “There’s gas up there.” He pointed to the can on the top shelf behind him. “I bet we could take it out.”

  “No way.” Kelsey picked up the tarp and started to pull it back over the car. Tom rushed to help her, lifting the canvas so it didn’t touch the paint but settled gently over it from the top. “It’s not our car, we don’t have permission, and we’re supposed to stay here.” She tightened the drawstring. “Come on. Let’s go back to the house.”

  Van went willingly, chattering about their find, but Kelsey had to push Tom out the door while he looked longingly over his shoulder.

  This was going to be a problem.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Regan, can you come back here a minute?”

  They’d been in the air nearly two hours, and she couldn’t sit still. She’d paced the tiny aisle a dozen times, changed seats until she’d sat in every one and deemed them all equally uncomfortable—ridiculous in a jet, but of course it was her, not the seats—and quizzed Tyler on Ben and Jeanne Harrison until he’d gone to the bathroom just to escape her.

  He’d known surprisingly few answers for someone who had worked for them for so long. He explained that security staff were not friends, so it wasn’t odd he didn’t know about other family or which of their friends they were close to, or what they’d done in the service and what they were doing now. He had managed to distract her for about twenty minutes while he described the layout of the house and grounds and the security they had in place.

  “We won’t have to worry about the security, though,” he’d said confidently. “The guys at the gate will let us through and I’m sure Ben and Jeanne will be eager to see you.”

  Regan had trouble focusing after that. Her imagination ran amok, spinning scenarios in which Tyler got let in and she got shot, or someone opened fire on both of them or dragged them to the pool and threw them in to drown, or locked them in a metal box with no light or air source. She kept seeing Tyler moving from her side to the Harrisons’ and changing into someone she didn’t know. Which reminded her she didn’t know him very well, anyway, and what if someone was on the way to Kelsey right now?

  “God, stop,” she murmured, pressing against her aching temples. She had to shut off her fricking brain.

  “Regan,” Tyler said again, and she reluctantly stood. He waited at the back of the plane, in front of the tiny sleeping area.

  “I can’t sleep,” she told him. “I tried.”

  “I know.” He put his hand on her shoulder and coaxed her through the door and onto the narrow bed. “I want to help you relax.” Regan let him stretch her out face down, realizing that a week ago, she’d have demanded to know what he was doing before she gave an inch. She’d changed, and wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Dependency wouldn’t protect her or her daughter.

  For cripe’s sake… She was so tired of herself.

  Tyler straddled her thighs at the same time his thumbs dug into her back, right at the sore spot at the base of her spine. She moaned without realizing she was going to. Her eyes drifted closed as Tyler massaged her lower back and hips, then up along her spine to her shoulders and neck. He applied the perfect amount of pressure, and when he was done her entire body felt looser than it had in nearly two decades.

  She was about to thank him when he braced his hands next to her head and lowered himself to kiss her neck. He moved her hair aside with his nose, then brushed his lips up the side of her neck to the spot behind her ear and pressed. His mouth was hot and his teeth sharp when they nipped her earlobe.

  His body sank onto hers and she felt a brief moment of panic, of feeling trapped, before he eased to the side and rolled her against him, her back to his front. Did he know, or was it coincidence? In the next instant it no longer mattered. His hand slid under her long-sleeved T-shirt and splayed across her belly while his mouth continued working its magic on her neck.

  “Tyler?” she whispered, not sure she wanted to do this.

  He uncurled his other hand, which was in front of her face now, his arm supporting her head. He held a condom in his fingers. She smiled, pleased he’d thought of it even after they’d taken a chance in the shower, but that wasn’t what made her hesitate.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmured. The hand on her belly glided up to trace the underside of her breasts. “We’ll do this slow and easy, take the edge off. It’ll pass the time, and you’ll be more alert when we get there than you will be if you keep stressing out.”

  It might have been the most creative reason to get laid she’d ever heard, but she decided he was right and turned to face him.

  “I’m not sure I can do slow and easy with you,” she admitted, unbuttoning his shirt. Her blood quickened when she touched his warm skin.

  “Then I guess I’d better take over.” He pressed her onto her back and pulled her arms over her head. When she dropped them down to his shoulders, again he put them back up. “I mean it, Regan. You just lie there and take it for once.”

  She chuckled, not believing him, but he was deadly serious as he loomed over her.

  “Don’t move.” She stilled and he gave a short, satisfied nod. “Good.”

  At first he just touched her, mostly while taking off her shirt and jeans. His big hands smoothed up her legs, across her ribs, down her arms. Then his mouth took up the journey, traveling from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts to her belly button, then between her legs to her knees and ankles and back. She was humming head to toe by the time he stopped.

  She opened her eyes to see him looking at her with a hunger that did more to arouse her than his hands had so far. She moved her fingers to the front closure of her black satin bra, but he caught them before she opened it.

  “Leave it on. It’s hot.” One side of his mouth quirked and this time, when he replaced her hand over her head, he leaned down to kiss her. Slowly, languidly, devouring her mouth as if she were a decadent dessert he wanted to savor but couldn’t. He traced the edge of her bra, which felt too tight now, and his bare chest brushed her skin. She arched but he pushed her back down.

  His mouth left hers and went straight to her breast. He pulled down the right cup and caught her nipple, tugging until she gasped. He reached between her legs, stroking across the damp satin again and again. She shuddered, already on the edge.

  “Tyler.”

  “Not yet, love.”

  When his hand moved aw
ay a kind of desperation rose up unlike anything she’d felt before. As if she’d truly explode if he wasn’t inside her. But again, when she reached for him he avoided her hands. He gave attention to her other breast and this time slipped his hand inside her panties, stroking her so lightly she could barely feel it, yet so powerfully she thought she’d come if he breathed on her right.

  “Tyler!” This time it was a plea more than a sigh. But a moment later her ears popped and the constant whine of the plane’s engines changed pitch.

  “Dammit.” Tyler shifted to her other side. “We’re descending.”

  “Don’t stop!” Regan protested.

  “I don’t intend to. But I think slow and easy is over.” He undid his jeans and rolled the condom on quickly, then stripped off her underwear and positioned himself over her. “Are you ready?”

  “God, yes.” She grabbed his ass with her hands and wrapped her ankles around his legs to lever her hips upward. He thrust smoothly inside her and immediately took up the perfect rhythm. She threw her head back, already approaching orgasm, and clenched around him trying to stave it off. He grunted and plunged harder, faster.

  “Tyler!” She couldn’t help crying his name over and over again as she climbed, then exploded, her entire body bursting into flames that died into sparkles. He pounded into her a few more times, then buried his face in her neck and clutched her to him as he came. The new angle pressed him against her clitoris and she shuddered into another, smaller orgasm. Her eyes prickled and, shocked, she opened them to stare hard at the molded plastic ceiling.

  Sex couldn’t make her cry.

  Loss could. In the past week she’d cried for Alan, and for Scott, and for Kelsey. But that was different.

  Wasn’t it?

  ***

  Why the hell hadn’t her mother taught her how to cook?

  Kelsey banged the pot on the stove, sloshing water across its surface, and glared at the reflection in the dark kitchen window over the sink. She could clearly see the well-lit room behind her, where Van was back on the couch, napping, and Tom prowled in his second search for the fricking keys to the fricking Corvette. Neither of them seemed to care about making dinner.