Suddenly I was more than nervous. Okay, I can do this, it’s not a big thing, and I’m staying calm. Or at least I was telling myself that. I started listening for people, cars—anything that might point me toward a gathering. Loud voices and laughter caught my attention. I turned a corner by a brick building and saw three men walking out of a bar; the bar’s sign was flashing brightly in the dark street.
I tripped off the edge of the curb, catching a garbage can, drawing their eyes in my direction. I quickly picked myself up and started walking fast, back down the way I came. At least, I thought it was… I realized too late it was actually a dead-end alley; nothing but brick walls, dumpsters, and chain link fencing surrounded me. My small back pack and wallet were all I had with me. My pepper spray was back at the apartment in my junk drawer. I looked up, noticing the ladders for the apartments above. If I could only balance on top of the dumpster I might stand a chance to reach one…
The three men came around the corner very slowly and spread across the mouth of the alley. “Hey, there, need some help, little lady?” one of them called out; the middle and the end man both turned to laugh at the one who’d spoken—the tallest, on the right.
“Are you lost? We’ll help you. Right, guys?” another one boasted.
“Hold on, now. Who do we have here?” My mouth went suddenly dry as I recognized that accent, that Jersey Shore, knock-off accent. It was the same guys from the restaurant, that night of the explosion! Holy crap, this is so not happening.
“It’s Megan, right? Boys, you remember Megan, right?” Their cackles and jeering came easily, while my scream got stuck in my throat. Panic set in and my feet felt like dumbbells, too heavy. Yet I started to think about how to get away.
Okay, how do I do this? Three to one, no weapon. I chanced a quick look next to the dumpster and eyed a metal pipe. I picked it up and held it like a bat. Fine, jerks; if you want me, someone’s going to get hurt.
Suddenly all the sounds in the alley were intensified. I could hear their breathing, their footsteps, the movement of their clothes. I was so focused; the rat moving in the dumpster to my right. The huge alley cat above and back behind me ready to pounce for his dinner. A sigh… I know that sigh. My childhood presence was close, I’d bet anything. A low growl, deep, menacing, came close. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the three now just yards away. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Oh now, don’t be like that, love. We’re just getting started; we wouldn’t want to ruin our reunion. As I recall, you have a liking for things that leave scars, isn’t that right?” He raised his hand to show off the coffee burn scars I’d given him. His voice dripped with menacing intentions—intentions I was hell-bent on reversing. But how… that was the more difficult question. One or two I could manage; I was agile enough to maneuver around two… but three? I didn’t like the odds.
He reached inside his lounge lizard leather jacket slowly, drawing out my fear. The other two began to sweep wide, coming at me from an angle. A flash of lights and the sound of peeling rubber broke the silence as Geoffrey’s bike came screaming down the alley, the three men scattering out of the way, trying not to get hit. He went full throttle through them, laid down the bike in a ground turn, and was upright in front of me in split seconds.
“Evening, gentlemen,” he snarled. I quickly climbed on behind him, no hesitating at all. “And to what do I owe this honor?” His question seemed much too polite, considering he looked ready to rip them apart.
“Oh… hey, Geoffrey. We—” the tall one stuttered, his accent all but gone, as the other two turned around to bolt.“We didn’t know she was with you, honestly—”
How in the hell did Geoffrey know these freaks?
They kept retreating until they found the dumpster behind them. The tall one put his hands up, surrendering. Just inside the shortest one’s jacket, I could make out the outline of a gun in the glimmering neon light. Geoffrey saw it, shaking his head side to side, like a disappointed parent.
“Now, boys, you’re not thinking of using that, are you?” His eyebrow raised in suspicion. Without his helmet, his face was easily seen. His politeness instantly disappeared, revealing a face of stone-cold death.
“Hang on,” he said, taking the pipe out of my hands. I latched my hands as tight as possible around him, guessing what was about to happen. He popped the clutch and we were off instantly. He held the pipe with one hand, hitting one of the fools directly in the chest and throwing him back into the alley wall.
Within seconds the alley was history. We flew down the back streets, gaining speed. Over a couple of normally small hills I could feel we’d caught air. I chanced opening my eyes and saw we were already on the highway headed away from the city. We passed fewer and fewer cars. There no longer were streetlights, just an occasional headlight going the opposite direction.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked over the rushing air. While I was grateful that he came when he did, the idea of being taken off to some strange place wasn’t my idea of being saved.
“Seriously, where are you taking me?” I yelled this time as the wind whipped my hair into my eyes. I didn’t dare try to move my hand to clear it away I was so scared. Then I heard his voice clearly as if he lips were at my ear: Trust me.
How could I hear him over the engine? I just kept my head down as the pavement flew under us. The farther away we rode, the more nervous I became. I didn’t see the exit we took, but it seemed to twist and turn, banking up and then down. The forest alongside seemed so dense and dark, yet the sky was lit up with bright stars. I began to sit upright, which I knew would offset the bike’s balance. He slowed automatically.
“Pull over… please!” I said as he literally turned to look at me while still driving. How nuts is that?
You’re safe, trust me, came the words again… but I didn’t see his lips move.
I’d had enough. “Pull over now!”
I felt the bike throttle down. The incline of the pavement changed, starting upward. He no longer held his body low over the bike but started to sit up. We weren’t even at a complete stop when I tried to get off.
“What the hell is going on, Geoffrey?” I glanced around. The road we stood on held no signs, no lights, and no obvious cross streets. We were in the proverbial no-man’s-land.
“Megan, calm down.” He leaned on the bike, taking off his riding gloves, his hair way too perfect for having just blown out of town like a bat out of hell.
“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” I snarled as I started to pace up and down the gravel edge. “I’m walking home, minding my own business. Those jerks try to attack me—which, by the way, how do you know them? Then to top it off, you drive me out here—wherever the hell this is! So yeah, I’m a bit freaked out.” He remained silent while I went on my tirade.
“As you should be,” he said, his voice sharp. “I’ve had the unpleasant business of knowing those gentlemen because they were under my supervision at one point. Needless to say, they no longer are—but they’ve taken the wrong path for their futures, obviously.”
I didn’t want to hear his excuses. “Obviously!” I snarled, mimicking his tone of voice. “They were the same jerks who were at my restaurant the night of the explosion.” I remembered that night; the searing pain of the glass shards and the heat, their faces mixed in my thoughts…
But then another face came to the front. One I now stood in front of.
“Wait a minute. You were there that night—the night of the explosion.” Flashes of the scenes, faces, and people flashed across my thoughts, confusing me. I took off my glasses, pinching the bridge of my nose, taking deep breaths, trying to ease my anxiety. My heart slowed.
“That was a very traumatic thing to go through, Meg.” He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t confirm it, either. I hadn’t realized he had walked over to me, standing closer tha
n I had expected, yet I didn’t react. His light touch to my shoulder caused me to cave in. I could smell his scent and I found it actually helped calm me. I took a deep breath, all the way down, and finally opened my eyes. He gently took my hands. The coolness of his skin was soothing after the adrenaline heat of the dark alley, which was now a bad memory.
“Are you all right, Megan?” he whispered, touching my cheek, holding my face, tucking my hair behind my ear so smoothly, like he’d done it a thousand times. The stress that had etched itself into his eyes was gone and a slight grin returned to his face.
Just then, I realized that I hadn’t thanked him for saving me from the goon squad; instead, I’d jumped down his throat. “I’m sorry… about all this. Really, I’m grateful you came along when you did. Thanks,” I said, my head hanging low at this point, feeling embarrassed for yelling.
“No apologies needed, as long as you’re all right.” His breath fell on me as I looked up into his eyes; it smelled so sweet. I pulled back suddenly, realizing I was stretching up to kiss him. We both took a step apart. He actually looked awkward—which is normally my routine.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said, trying to lighten the moment. “Nothing seems out of place, bad hair in place, got my glasses, check.”
“You asked where we were. Well, if you’ll allow me, I’ll take you the rest of the way, so we can complete our little journey.”
I took his offered hand and climbed back on, leaving the alley behind us. The speed was exhilarating. We entered what looked like a tunnel covered partially with ivy and grass. I couldn’t see it directly, with only the bike’s light shining on it. We seemed to angle downward, and the air grew colder. I shivered, and he wrapped his arm around me. I responded by holding on even tighter, thankful for an excuse to hold him.
The incline of the pavement changed, went upward. He no longer held his body low over the bike but started to sit up, more relaxed. Sidelights showed up, marking the edges around the last curve. He throttled the bike down as we entered an enormous garage workshop and pulled in next to his beautiful Mustang.
When he killed the engine the sudden silence was intense—especially since I had been riding without a helmet. He stood the bike up, still holding me with one arm. In one fluid motion he brought me around him so that I faced him, straddling his lap just inches away from his face. This was a bit more intense than I was comfortable with, and he realized it. We stepped off the bike—him first, then me. My legs tangled and I fell right into him. He caught me easily, yet even with my cheeks flaming red I didn’t push him away because I didn’t want to step away from his touch.
I put my glasses back on—a natural reaction to being embarrassed.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, smiling as he slowly reached up, removing them.
My eyes closed automatically, not wanting to be seen. I had always been sensitive about my eyes. The stares and odd comments people inevitably said just within earshot had conditioned me to hide them. Oddly enough, he was only the second person who had ever removed my self-made barrier. Mom had always said to be proud of being different, but that was easier said than done.
“Are you all right, now?” he asked, taking off his gloves. I glanced around and counted three cars and at least one other bike.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s broken—just a bit rattled, nothing new.” I turned to face him and saw all the little stress lines creeping around on his forehead. “Are you okay, though?” I had to ask.
He glanced at me and one side of his mouth pulled up in a grin, making the stress disappear as fast as it had come. He stepped around the question. “You’re at my home, to answer your previous question.”
Taking my hand, he helped me stand up and led me through the huge garage and into the house. As we entered, automatic lights came on to guide us forward. The beautiful hardwood floors and oak benches had a warm, welcoming effect, as did the huge, open-beam ceilings and the knotty pine paneling that wrapped around the room. Small floral arrangements throughout were a surprise, and the soft scent of jasmine and musk made me feel calm.
Somehow I felt very much at home. We entered what looked like a study,
passing through wide-open pocket doors to a room with endless shelves of books, scrolls, and beautiful paintings in various stages of completion. Soft music played behind the scenes. The south wall was floor-to-ceiling glass with a breathtaking view of a lake, black waters moving slowly. The opposite banks were mere shadows with twinkling lights on them.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome back.”
I jumped. I hadn’t heard anyone enter behind us. Geoffrey’s hand weighed softly on my back and we turned to face what I could only name as a butler. An older gentleman in a suit—maybe fifty years old, salt-and-pepper hair cut short, and clean-shaven. Only the slightest of wrinkles near his eyes told me his age. His smile was warm, inviting.
I suddenly felt underdressed. I realized Geoffrey’s home was well taken care of—as in lots of money. I turned to look at him and he was eyeing me with that smile of his; it always seemed to disarm me when I least expected it.
“Good to be back, Andrew,” he said. “Andrew, this is Megan. Megan, Andrew.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Megan,” he said, nodding.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” was the only thing I could think to say. Hopefully, I didn’t sound like an idiot.
“Andrew, could you pour us a couple of drinks?” He turned to me with a look, wanting to know what I wanted.
“I’ll take a Diet Coke,” I said, and turned around to look out the windows.
“Your usual, sir?” Andrew asked him.
“You know me well, Andrew. Yes, thanks.”
As Andrew turned to leave, I caught his smile. He was gone just as quietly and quickly as he’d come.
“So to answer your question,” Geoffrey said. “Yes, now I’m better.” His voice still had a bit of tightness to it.
I took notice of the doors—how many there were, and which way they faced. Unfortunately, they all seemed to point towards the forest, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find my way back home if I had to. I walked up to the windows, trying to act as calm as possible. But even with the music in the background, I felt tense.
He came to stand next to me and eyed me carefully. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you by bringing you here. I thought it was better than that alley. I’m not particularly fond of those men.” A shadow seemed to cross over his features, but it was gone just as fast as it came.
“I’m not used to being swept off my feet—literally—but I still owe you a thank you. So thanks.” My words stumbled out, but it was the best I could do. I tried to change the subject. “You have a nice home—it’s beautiful.” As I looked out the wraparound deck windows, the mental images flashed again, confusing my here-and-now with what I could only describe as someone else’s memories.
How can I bring her into this world—into my world?
I spun around, questions clearly on my face. Who had said that? Why could I hear it?
He looked intensely at me. First shock, then surprise flickered in his eyes. “I take it you have questions. Let me answer them for you.”
Chapter 8
Geoffrey shook his head and laughed. “Chase must think I’m stalking you,” he began. “I had a feeling when I left that you’d forget to be careful. I came by your apartment earlier and he saw me leaving. When I didn’t see you after we closed up, I thought you might have left, but you weren’t home, so I headed back to The Stage. You weren’t there, so I decided to try your place one more time. Chase caught the elevator with me and said he hadn’t seen you arrive home. He told me you normally catch the metro going up the hill. When I started to go, he stopped me. He got a little miffed and asked me, ‘Hey, what do you want with Megan?’ I told him—politely—to mind his own business.”
He was actual
ly smiling as he said this, and I secretly grinned as I slowly turned away from him, admiring the roaring fire in the river rock hearth. I had to ask myself, Why am I so glad to hear that he’s been following me? I could only imagine Chase’s reaction…
“I headed up the hill, searching the main streets first,” he continued, “hoping to catch you. But once again, I came up short. It’s a good thing I rode down that last street.” He seemed tense again as he talked about it, but then he looked up at me and his expression softened.
He reached for my hand and I found mine already grasping his before I realized it. The coolness of his fingers, intertwining with mine, caused the strangest sensation. I didn’t want to let him go. What am I doing? Why him, of all people? I looked up and suddenly the mental images flashed again, confusing me. I closed my eyes, willing them to stop. His arm wrapped around my shoulders as I remained silent, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“I’m sure you have a few questions for me. Let’s begin with me telling you where we are. Obviously, this is my home. We’re just outside Medina. Andrew is a loyal, longtime friend who has been with my family for a number of years. You can trust him; we have no secrets here.”
No secrets. Now there’s a phrase I wasn’t used to hearing. I had so many secrets of my own… I looked up at him and felt tired suddenly as the events of the evening caught up with me. I gave in to my own need—oh, who was I kidding—my own desire to be near him, wrapping my own arms around him. I buried my head in his chest. My eyes closed and I just breathed. The combination of his scent and his home were almost hauntingly familiar.
He led me to a huge sectional sofa near the fireplace. His movements were
sinfully graceful. I slouched off my backpack and sat down; I looked at him, really searching his face. He finally seemed relaxed, and I noticed that the music seemed to have followed us from the study. Etta James was crooning old jazz numbers.
The Stage Page 8