I Gotta Feeling

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I Gotta Feeling Page 13

by Kress, Alyssa


  Felix blinked. An empty snack bag of peanuts, ripped as by a ravenous animal, already sat tucked in the pouch of the seatback in front of him. Odd. He didn't remember eating them, and he usually ignored the salty treats. He must have needed something to do with his hands.

  Yeah. Felix flexed his fingers. Since that moment beside the freeway when he'd seen those depraved low-life scum surrounding Aletheia, he'd felt a steady itch to touch her, to make sure she was all right, to reassure himself she was actually here.

  "Peanuts? Sure." He still needed to keep his fingers busy so he reached for the proffered bag. He halted, though, right before taking it. "But aren't you hungry? You didn't touch your breakfast, and we didn't have time for lunch before the flight."

  Her brows curved into a frown. "You noticed."

  "Of course I noticed."

  She stared at him blankly a moment, then laughed softly. "Of course you did... Would I be right to guess, then, you intend to feed me once we land?"

  Damn straight he did. He'd already decided on the restaurant. San Francisco was his town and he knew the best. It would be a meal to remember, with top-notch food, excellent wine, and anything else he could think of to make up for her fright earlier that day. "I thought I would," he remarked casually.

  She'd be warm and relaxed by the end of the meal. Afterward, he'd take her to his condo on Russian Hill. She'd be staying there because they'd agreed to stick together. Her idea.

  But as he looked at Aletheia now, where she smiled at him from her seat in the airplane, Felix felt a flicker of apprehension mix into his satisfaction. What, exactly, was going to happen between them in his condo? While he wanted her more than ever, a host of dangers hovered over the possibility of sex. Her brother's possible guilt regarding murder, as well as sabotage, was only one of them.

  "Last time I was in San Francisco must have been five years ago." Aletheia gave Felix the snack bag. Her brain was clearly not running on the same sexual track as Felix's. "If Benjamin is there, I have no idea who he'd want to see or where he'd be going."

  "Perhaps one of his friends recently moved there. You don't remember him mentioning anything of the sort?"

  Aletheia appeared to think, then shook her head. Was she just pretending she hadn't a clue in order to throw Felix off her brother's scent? It didn't matter. Aletheia could lie about her brother all she wanted as far as Felix was concerned, so long as she kept her promise about not running off again.

  He didn't need her cooperation in order to find Benjamin. That was going to happen regardless.

  "Maybe a good night's sleep will bring an answer to you," he suggested blandly.

  Aletheia hesitated. "Maybe." Despite Felix's uninflected tone, she curled her fingers around her purse clasp. Nervous about a lie? Or was her brain on the same track as Felix's, after all? Was she nervous about the notion of the night's sleep—to be spent at Felix's house?

  Once again, fear flashed across his desire. He fumbled the unopened bag of nuts, dropping it. Staring at the bag on the floor of the plane, Felix acknowledged what really worried him: the way his darkness kept stealing into the mix whenever the two of them got into it. And the last time, out by the freeway—that had been a major flare-up. In the middle of a sexual experience with Aletheia, could he maintain control, conceal the wildness inside him?

  Even though Aletheia hadn't run away from him by the freeway, even though she'd actually touched him, that didn't mean she could accept the full truth of his darkness.

  "I'll get it." Aletheia bent to retrieve the dropped bag.

  Felix gazed down at her dark hair, pulled back neatly with clips. His jaw went tight. Nobody could accept his darkness, least of all a person as generous and—and light as Aletheia.

  She straightened and handed the bag back to him with another smile. "Peanuts," she said, "in exchange for dinner at what I suspect will be one of the premier restaurants in the Bay Area." She grinned. "I call that a good deal."

  She had no idea. Accepting the bag, Felix felt like a complete fraud. To say he had nothing to offer a relationship was a vast understatement. While she promised warmth, the best he could give in return was an attempt to control his darkness...and he wasn't even sure he could do that. Especially not if they were in bed together.

  Hell. Felix ripped open the bag of peanuts. This was way too risky. He couldn't let his darkness near Aletheia. He had to keep her safe.

  Sex was out of the question.

  Muscles Felix hadn't realized were tensed now relaxed. A spreading sense of relief confirmed he was making the right decision.

  Meanwhile, the peanuts tasted like ash. It didn't matter. He devoured the entire bag of them.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Zara was in deep doo-doo. She sat on a curb outside a Greyhound bus station in Oklahoma City and forced her stubborn brain to come up with places she could go—any place but Boston.

  New Orleans. Seattle. Boise. Surely she should be able to decide on an alternate destination for herself before Benjamin returned to the bus station with something to eat for breakfast.

  The sun beat on the asphalt around her, sending a harsh petroleum odor upward. Behind her stood the bus to St. Louis, the one for which Benjamin had bought them both tickets, intending to transfer in Missouri for Boston.

  "Say, li'l cookie." An old man and his elderly female companion had brought folding chairs. They sat across an empty bus parking space from Zara, though whether they were waiting for a bus or had merely come to spectate was unclear. The old man gestured at Zara. "Ain't you the li'l gal I loaned five dollars to las' week?"

  Zara shook her head. She wished she could leave right that minute. She wanted to get away from the old man, who scowled at her ferociously. She wanted to get out of the bus station. Most of all, she wanted to escape from the whole situation. It had mushroomed into something much bigger than she'd imagined.

  Oh, she wasn't concerned that Benjamin was now wanted for murder. That was a detail. What worried Zara was that she was starting to like the guy.

  Liking someone was bad. When you liked someone you ran the danger of waiting too long to leave.

  "Where's his five dollars?" the old lady spoke up, scolding.

  "Now, now." The old man's ferocious expression eased. "Mebbe she hasn't got it today. Y'all bring it tomorra, hear?" he told Zara.

  Nashville, Zara thought, flicking a sighing glance at the couple. Denver. She needed to leave Benjamin now, before the liking got too big and she was too stupid to leave at all.

  She was stuck for the moment, however. Twenty minutes ago Benjamin had left her to guard his suitcase and her plastic bag of clothes while he went to find some food. They'd arrived here starving after spending the night on a bus from New Mexico across the Texas panhandle.

  Now Zara couldn't abandon Benjamin's things. He'd been nice to her. Nobody had ever told Zara anything as nice as what Benjamin had told her yesterday at the UNM library. He'd claimed she was smart! How outrageous was that?

  "I think she should give you the five dollars now," the old woman decided.

  "No, no." The old man waved his hands. "She ain't that gal after all. She's—she's from the Hurricane Katrina task force. Knew I seed her someplace afore."

  "Hurricane Katrina!" the old lady exclaimed, and peered at Zara suspiciously, as if Zara, personally, had messed up that aid effort.

  "I'm not from any task force," Zara assured them, although she thought that looked perfectly obvious. She squinted down the street for a sight of Benjamin. As soon as he came back, she'd break the news. She was splitting.

  It was dangerous to like people too much. When they stopped liking you back, the pain was overwhelming. Zara wanted out before it got to the point where she started counting on having Benjamin around. That would certainly be the exact moment he decided he'd had enough of a dumb cluck like her.

  "Not on the task force," the old man mumbled. He snapped his fingers. "You went to school with me."

  Zara closed and opened h
er eyes slowly. She glanced toward the man's elderly companion, but it was a mistake to think the old lady might find this amusing. Instead she gazed at Zara with deep suspicion.

  A movement past the old couple caught Zara's attention. Benjamin was galumphing up the street, his hands full with a cardboard box of food and cups. His pants were barely hanging onto his hips and the hems were ratted up because he'd left them too long. Half of his white shirt was hanging out. Oblivious to all of that, he wore a big, fat grin on his face.

  What a goofball. Yet Zara's mouth moved into a grin of her own. Her heart got really big in her chest.

  Benjamin was still smiling by the time he carefully lowered to a seat beside Zara. "Found a great donut place, just two blocks down. Look, they had apple fritters." With a happy smile, he held up a white paper bag.

  Zara blinked quickly and accepted the pastry. He'd figured out which kind was her favorite. God, could he stop being so damn nice?

  Benjamin pulled a paper cup out of the box. "I had them put extra lemon slices in. Hope the ice isn't all melted."

  "I'm sure it's fine," Zara said, her voice thick. He'd noticed how she liked her iced tea, too.

  "How stupid," the old man spoke up. "You're my optician!"

  "What?" Benjamin looked at Zara.

  She rolled her eyes. "Local color."

  "Oh." Accepting this without question, Benjamin bit into his own old fashioned. Leaning closer to Zara, he lowered his voice. "It's going to take us forever to get to Boston, but you were right about ditching the car. Especially after we saw that news on the Internet..." Benjamin leaned back again and shuddered. "I still can't believe it."

  "They used your disappearance to frame you."

  Benjamin set down his donut. "Poor Boris and Heather. I feel so responsible..."

  Zara frowned. "How could you be responsible?"

  "I destroyed the Cloak and then ran off. That must have set my two techs off. They couldn't understand it. Probably started poking around and asking questions until Goddard felt he had to shut them up."

  Zara's frown deepened. Benjamin shouldn't be taking this on. "Aren't you assuming a lot? I mean, whoever killed those two poor kids is the one who's really responsible. And anyway, you probably prevented a lot of other deaths when you destroyed a bomb-transporting device."

  Benjamin's gaze flashed upward. "Do you think so?" Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "You know...I think I'd be going insane if you weren't here."

  Instant heat flushed Zara's face. "Oh. Well..."

  Benjamin picked up his paper cup of coffee. "I wasn't very nice to you at the beginning. I thought you'd get in the way. But, boy, I sure am glad you're with me now." He shook his head and the shy smile that had started on his face faded. "I'd understand, though, if you wanted to split. I'm a fugitive from the law. Being with me could get you in trouble." His big, brown eyes looked at her.

  The heart that had grown so big inside Zara's chest was pushing against her ribs now. He wasn't trying to get rid of her like he had at the beginning, as if she were a pest. Now he was letting her go, out of concern for her welfare.

  Sucking in her lips, Zara wondered if maybe she didn't like Benjamin, after all. How could he do this to her, get under her skin so far? It wasn't fair. Yeah, maybe in fact, she hated him. That had to be it. Only hatred could be this powerful.

  If Benjamin was taking a Greyhound to Boston, well then, she'd take one to—San Diego. She'd get as far away from him as she could.

  From across the empty bus parking space, the old man piped up again. "Wait a minute! I know. You're a celebrity. Traveling in disguise... But which one?"

  Benjamin blinked while the old woman gave Zara a critical look.

  "Jennifer Aniston," she croaked.

  "No, no." The old man squinted at Zara's tattoos. "But somebody."

  "Look," said Benjamin. He pointed with the hand holding his coffee cup. "I see a driver coming up now. Heading for the St. Louis bus. I wanta get on, get sure of a seat." With his free hand, he dug into his pants pocket. "Here. Here's your ticket. You can trade it in for one going to a different city. If you want."

  Benjamin shoved the ticket into Zara's hand before struggling to his feet. While he grabbed his suitcase, Zara tried to open her mouth. She tried to explain that she thought Benjamin's idea was a good one. In fact, she was planning to travel to San Diego.

  "Come on," whined the old man, as he saw them gathering their things. "You can tell me who you really are. I won't let on to no one."

  "Winona Ryder," the old lady guessed.

  Both Benjamin and Zara were on their feet now. It was time for her to turn around, to go into the station and buy that ticket to California.

  "Wait," Benjamin said. He peered intently into Zara's face, then put down his suitcase. He wiped a crumb from her chin. "There ya go."

  Hate. She definitely hated him.

  Meanwhile, Benjamin picked up her plastic bag of clothes—clothes he'd bought for her two days ago—and handed it to her. Then he bent to grab his suitcase again.

  "You must need eyeglasses!" the old man spluttered at his companion. "She ain't Winona Ryder."

  Turning, Benjamin went toward the parked bus. Clearly, he'd accepted that Zara was taking his suggestion and parting company. She wouldn't have to worry about disappointing him. If she split now, she'd be doing what she always did: leaving first.

  Benjamin did not turn around as he walked past the front of the parked bus toward the door.

  Zara tried to make her feet move. She wanted them to take her inside where she could exchange her ticket for one that went anywhere but St. Louis with a transfer to Boston.

  Behind her the old man called out in triumph, "I know who you are!"

  Zara's feet started moving, but not toward the station. Instead, they started tracking Benjamin's path. They started moving faster, started running.

  As she rounded the bus, she wondered what she was doing. Getting on this bus would be crazy and self-destructive. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. There were a thousand reasons Benjamin was going to end up rejecting her, starting with her sexual history and ending with all the other things her father had said were wrong with her, all those wild, brain-dead, irresponsible qualities that made her so much like the mother who'd abandoned her.

  The door of the bus was open. Feeling breathless, light as air, and terrified, Zara jumped on.

  Inside and down the aisle, Benjamin was turning to get into a seat. He stopped.

  Their eyes met. Something cartwheeled inside of Zara.

  Then Benjamin smiled, warm and big and beautiful. Zara felt herself smile back. A huge warmth enveloped her. Oh, she was in trouble here. She was in much greater danger than her nerdy friend, Benjamin, could possibly realize.

  "I know who you are!" the old man shouted from outside the bus. "Elizabeth Taylor!"

  ~~~

  The plate of summer fruit was about to topple off the tapestry-covered table, led by a curling spiral of lemon peel. Three hundred and fifty years later, nobody had yet pushed the plate safely back on the table. Gazing at the still life painting on Friday afternoon, Aletheia released a deep sigh.

  They weren't going to find Benjamin here. The whole thing was a wild goose chase. Aletheia couldn't see Benjamin coming to San Francisco at all, let alone hanging out at some artsy museum. He had no special friends in this city, nor even across the bay at Berkeley. But Felix's client's source insisted Benjamin had been sighted this morning in the Legion of Honor hilltop museum, so here Aletheia and Felix were, strolling the halls together.

  Yes, together. As Aletheia gazed at the brushstrokes creating the drying peel of lemon, she was acutely aware of the man standing beside her. It was like standing beside a pulsing bar of energy. Her skin felt electrified, her nerves alert.

  Since landing in San Francisco the previous evening, she'd felt herself the object of a scrupulously careful courtship. Felix had treated her to the most amazing meal of her life at a gourmet Nob Hi
ll restaurant, then taken her to his elegant condo. There he'd served the smoothest wine before a panoramic view of the bay. As the fog rolled in over the water, they'd sat in his deep leather chairs in a warm, mellow silence.

  Had he made a move on her? No, sir. Once the fog had settled into a soft blanket over Alcatraz, he'd taken her glass of wine and shown her to a thoughtfully-appointed guest bedroom. He'd left her there for the night, entirely unmolested.

  The result of Felix's reserve was to make Aletheia feel bold. She felt...want. A full-spectrum pull in his direction.

  Now in the museum, Aletheia felt compelled to distract herself from that tug. "I'll bet you prefer modern art," she blurted. Any stupid thing.

  In answer, Felix tilted his head at the forever drying fruit. "I think I'm open to whatever happens to seize me." He blinked and stared at the painting, as if surprised by what had come out of his mouth. Frowning, he added, "If that makes any sense."

  "Yes, yes. It makes sense." Aletheia slid him a careful glance. What he'd just said was far more than he usually offered, almost personal. It made her wonder. Maybe if she learned more about him, she could understand him better. Not anything to do with that tug of hers, but for Benjamin's sake. If she could find some key, maybe she could convince Felix of her brother's innocence. Yesterday he'd admitted he was considering the idea.

  If Felix believed Benjamin was an innocent victim of whatever was going on regarding the invisibility Cloak, then he and she could be on the same side. She wouldn't have to feel like she was working with the enemy. Maybe even falling for him...

  The murmur of people discussing artwork echoed off the high ceiling. By unspoken consent, both Felix and Aletheia left the still life and strolled toward the next painting. They both passed swift but thorough gazes around the room, searching for Benjamin. Both relaxed when there was no sign of him.

  As they stopped in front of a scene of water gushing through some Roman ruins, Aletheia sucked in her lips and wondered how to make an 'in' with Felix. Perhaps if she opened up about herself that would encourage him to do the same.

 

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