The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

  • 68 •

  as a substitute bracelet then quickly dismissed the idea—I was already naked enough without exposing my back, too.

  My loose plan was to get the heck out of Dodge and then figure out my

  next move. Bypassing the snake of cars leaving out the only exit, I stepped

  neatly over an orangey-yellow parking block and into a ditch, cursing my

  Connelly pride. Any normal person would’ve turned back and simply asked

  for a ride, or at the very least to use a phone. But I couldn’t call my father

  in this condition (if I wanted to live to see my eighteenth birthday), didn’t

  know Mrs. M’s cell phone number, and didn’t want to get Ashley-Leigh into

  trouble. No, I got myself into this mess by stomping out like a lunatic . . . I’d

  get myself out.

  Suddenly, inspiration struck—my friend Miguel’s family restaurant was

  about eight or nine blocks north of here. Doable on foot. And my best bet.

  He worked weekends, and I knew he would give me a ride without giving me

  a hard time about my night. He was good like that. I wouldn’t make curfew,

  but I wouldn’t get caught in my hooker uniform either.

  Ducking my head down, I began hoofing it down the main drag. Three car

  horn honks and four wolf whistles later and the clear message was received—I

  wasn’t going unnoticed. What did I expect? My oversize glasses weren’t exactly a super-hero disguise.

  Cursing under my breath, I decided to take a right at the next street to

  get off the main drag. It would be a little farther out of the way, but at least

  I’d avoid the high school crowd out cruising the night away. At the stoplight,

  flirty shout-outs and the kind of laughter that burned my face wafted out

  the open window of a flashy Pontiac, so I cut across the waiting cars to a

  convenience store. Thankfully the light was still red, so it would take a while

  for them to find me, if they were so inclined.

  Aw man! This is total crap! My toes were already starting to pinch in my pointy boots, and I’d only gone a couple of blocks. So absorbed was I in

  cursing myself and getting on down the road, that I didn’t notice the turquoise

  pickup sidling up next to me until I heard the whir of an automatic window.

  Reflexively, I looked up to see a familiar, craggy face.

  “Thought you were waitin’ for a ride,” the smug voice reminded me.

  Guess my poker face needed some work. “Um . . . they couldn’t make it

  after all.”

  “That’s a shame . . . pretty girl like you gettin’ left all alone. I wouldn’t

  have stood you up.” He said this, in what he probably thought was an enticing

  way, while crawling along next to me.

  • 69 •

  I didn’t respond, hoping he’d get the hint. Gah! I decided a cell phone was definitely in my future.

  “The offer for a ride still stands.”

  “I prefer to walk.”

  A humorless chuckle. “Frosty,” he announced as though reporting on the

  weather.

  I didn’t acknowledge his comment. The only sound was my feet clip-

  clopping on the pavement as I made a swift right down a side street into a

  residential area. Hopefully, he’d keep going straight and head on home. Or

  at least away from me.

  A huge gust of relief billowed from my chest when the man tore off down

  the street. That was close . What kind of guy paints his truck turquoise?

  I decided to keep on this sleepy street for a while, stay off any main roads

  and hopefully walk unnoticeable as a shadow in the dark. A couple of quiet

  blocks later, and I heard the unmistakable thrum of a truck’s engine behind

  me. I shuddered as the first sliver of fear crawled up my spine. The man had

  doubled back and was trailing me. Again. I looked all around, noticing the

  forest of low-income housing I was heading deeper into had most of the lights

  off. Where are the streetlamps?

  While the cunning night predator stalked me, I kept my head down and

  my ears open. I could only hear domestic-disturbance yelling in the distance,

  and a screen door banging, followed closely by sharp dog barking. Another

  light snuffed out in a house up ahead. The exact time eluded me, but I knew

  it was heading past bedtime for most folks. My father never failed to remind

  me that nothing good happens past midnight. I was hoping to make it home

  before then.

  I had to get off this street, because I had to get to the restaurant before Miguel left for the night. Enough was enough. I stopped my tromping to face

  him squarely. I would just reason with the man. And if that didn’t work, I’d

  just lie—better.

  Tamping down the voice that said he didn’t buy the first lie, I said, “I

  really appreciate the offer for the ride, but I live just a coupla blocks this way.”

  I jerked my thumb to indicate a dark street, lined with small houses, with big

  dogs penned behind chain-link fences.

  The man’s patronizing tone began to form before he even spoke. “Wwwell,

  why didn’tja just say so, sweetheart? Tell you what—I’ll just foller along right

  beside you and make sure you git home safe and sound.”

  I hugged my midsection, suddenly feeling cold despite the sweat beading

  my upper lip.

  • 70 •

  “That’s okay, sir. I’m almost home. And I have friends waitin’ on me.” I was going for firm, but my voice broke on the word home—I was so far from

  home and so alone it wasn’t even funny.

  Tears pricked my eyes. I turned away and continued determinedly on . . .

  farther away from my goal, but also farther away from the man in the truck,

  whom I guessed was not a Good Samaritan. I needed to turn back, but I kept thinking there must be a closer exit up ahead . My detour had been a bad idea, one of many tonight.

  I clopped, and he followed, humming along to a song I couldn’t hear. A

  pit formed in my stomach. He wasn’t giving up. The lights went off in the

  houses now like someone had flipped a switch. I looked down another side

  street to a matchbox house with a solitary light on behind torn curtains. It

  shone like a beacon on this gloomy night. Even though it would take me

  farther into the twisty neighborhood, I decided to take my chances on it and

  ask for some dadgum help.

  The only sounds now were his humming, occasional dog barking, and the

  faster clip of my feet as I started to jog. My glasses bumped up and down in

  rhythm to my boots, my cross thumping against my chest to the faster beat of

  my heart. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the farther I got, the darker it

  seemed to get. I was hyper focused on the solitary light, looking neither right

  to the vacant-looking houses, nor left to the creeping stalker.

  Suddenly, my beacon of hope flicked off, flooding me in pitch black.

  I gasped. My head jerked back, eyes groping for light. The creeper

  had killed his headlights. And quit humming. The witching hour, like the

  darkness, closed in around me. It seemed to come alive now, taking shape like

  a scary monster. I was paralyzed with fear, but my ears were still in working

  order. And I could hear the unmistakable chink of chains and the thudding of

  large paws charging my way. Dogs, I couldn’t quite see yet, hurled themselves

  against the chain-link fence, viciously bar
king in my face. I jumped back even

  as my heart leapt to my throat.

  The man shined a flashlight in my face, chortled. “I don’t think those two

  dogs—pit bulls by the sound of ‘em—are welcomin’ you home.”

  As if to prove his point, claws appeared at the top of the fence with a

  snappy snarl. I recoiled back only to find the man had angled his truck over

  the sidewalk, blocking me. That was fine because the lie was as obvious and

  out in the open now as a bloody wound. Stumbling backwards, I kept one

  eye trained on the snarling beasts trying to jump the fence.

  “Come on, girl. I ain’t gonna bite.” The man swung the door wide. “Can’t

  say the same for them dogs though.”

  • 71 •

  The interior light blinked on illuminating the six-pack of beer he had riding shotgun. He plucked a can off and offered it to me like candy. “Come

  on”—he gave me a greasy smile—“let’s get outta here and go party.” He must

  have seen the fear and revulsion on my face because he said, “Aw come on

  now! I just wanna have some fun . . . and you look like a fun girl.” A lascivious look followed this ridiculous statement. “Whatd’yasay?”

  “N-no thank you,” I squeaked, oddly polite, as if that would help my

  cause. Isolation didn’t seem to be working so good for me, so I turned myself

  around, sprinting back to the well-lit convenience store and the main drag.

  But the man was quick, throwing the truck in reverse and fishtailing the

  back around to block my exit. I was now pinned in the alley with the same

  vicious dogs, still furiously barking like they would like nothing better than

  to tear me to shreds. I would either have to go down the blind alley or . . .

  Oh no! My panicked eyes looked up to see the man grinning victoriously down at me. I was trapped, and we both knew it.

  “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go,” he directed with a sharp nod.

  I was just about to dive down the blank alley when my situation turned

  from bad to worse—one of the dogs finally managed to hook his front legs

  over the top of the fence. Crap! I closed my eyes, preparing to leap into

  the back of the man’s truck, when a sharp whistle pierced the darkness.

  Momentarily startled, the dog stopped his struggle to heave himself over the

  fence, lost his momentum, and fell back down.

  Almost faint with relief, I looked around for the source of the sound.

  Headlights from the street penetrated the darkness, haloing another large

  vehicle that had just pulled up beside the man in the truck.

  Oh thank God! Someone needed to get through the alley. This was my

  break! Words were being exchanged between open windows, but it was

  hard to hear because the dogs started up another furious round of barking,

  their attention now evenly divided between me and the two trucks parked

  side-by-side.

  The proprietary voice of the creeper rose in challenge: “Who the hell do

  you think you are?”

  “Her ride,” a deep, calm voice replied.

  Something about that voice sent a vibration down my spine . That can’t be

  right . . . Unfortunately nobody knows where I am.

  The man in the truck stuttered, turned red, took one last accessing look

  at me plastered against the fence before reaching over and slamming the door

  shut. “Good luck with that one!” he spat before roaring off into the night.

  Shaking, I ducked down to take a couple of deep breaths while I waited

  • 72 •

  for the big black Jeep to pull through the alley so I could run. But it didn’t move.

  Holy cow! I just realized I’d seen this Jeep before. Only it wasn’t a Jeep; it was a Hummer. A black Hummer, and I’d only seen one of those once

  before . . . My eyes traveled up the large, knobby tires and into the open

  window, where a pair of glacier eyes was looking down on me crouched in

  the weeds. Disbelief momentarily stunned me stupid. No Way! I blinked.

  Sure enough . . .

  “Good evenin’, Glasses!” A familiar mocking voice greeted me.

  It just couldn’t be. Could it?

  I stumbled upright to get a closer look. What I saw made my face blanch

  and my feet scrabble backwards like I’d seen a ghost.

  What’s he doing here? — nothing good.

  “Get her in the truck,” someone directed from the driver’s seat. I thought

  that voice sounded familiar, too, but couldn’t be sure because my ears were

  ringing, and I was faint with fear and near exhaustion.

  I must’ve been taking too long to process what was going on, because

  the door sprang open. A very large, very muscular guy stalked my way, with

  a determined look upon his face. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I

  registered the fact that he was also very good looking.

  Oh man . . . not again! It suddenly occurred to me that I’d just jumped from the frying pan into the fire!

  • 73 •

  8

  R ANGER DANGER

  He was coming for me, so I finally snapped out of it enough to

  scramble out of the weeds. I’d fought capture all night from one

  deranged man. No way was I going down now . . . Not without a

  fight. “Come on, Glasses. We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Ranger calmly threatened.

  Fear choked me. Alarm bells rang in my mind. I shook my head, backed

  up a couple of more steps, and then—bolted down the alley. I heard him

  call out and then tear after me. Oh. My. God! I tried running faster, but my exhausted body protested. Heavy footsteps thudded behind me.

  Crush! Crush! Crush!

  Finally, the adrenaline jolt my body had been waiting for all night kicked

  in. I felt a rush of blood surge through my muscles. Barking dogs tore after

  me as far as their chains permitted. Dumpsters, rickety fences, weeds, all flew

  by as I ran faster than I had ever run before. An angry oath pelted my back,

  sending jangled pulses up my spine. Sure footsteps sped up behind me, faster

  that I thought possible. Heaving bursts of exertion pushed from my lungs. I prayed just to make it to the street and for a stray car to come along. I ran full

  out, long legs sprinting, heedless of my blistered feet and clunky footwear.

  Unfortunately, the long legs sprinting full out behind me were overtaking

  me quickly—too quickly. My mind raced faster than my legs. What could I do?

  I was outmatched. I saw a cardboard box sticking out of the next dumpster,

  and a hysterical plot to trip him up flew to my mind. My chest heaved, and

  my leg muscles burned like acid, not blood was pumping through my veins,

  but I fought through it like I was running for my life.

  Please God! . . . Just let me get to the next dumpster!

  • 74 •

  I reached down deep for the last vestiges of energy I had and sprang forward like a gazelle, just managing to grab the box and hurl it blindly

  behind me. It landed gratifyingly with a dull whap on its target. Another

  curse blasted my back, followed by stumbling sounds as he tripped over the

  contents spilling from the box.

  Yes! I thought triumphantly, not daring to turn around. It probably only

  bought me a few extra seconds. I just hoped it would be enough to get me

  to the end of the alley. Because whatever the outcome . . . I was at my end.

  Running on fumes. Stumbling to the finish line. My lungs burned so
badly

  I wanted to hurl. Instead, I hurled myself into the last few feet of my sprint

  with every fiber of my being.

  My guardian angel must’ve been with me, because I heard the unmistakable

  purr of an engine idling in the street. Thank you, Jesus!

  I bolted out of the alley and into the street—and right smack into the

  monster truck just waiting for me at the end. A trap! I was so concentrated on running toward it that I couldn’t think to stop. Skidding crazily on the

  gravel, I braced for the crash— Thunk! —my hip and shoulder made contact

  with the side panel of their blasted Hummer.

  Ow! That’s gonna leave a mark, the least of my worries at the moment because the impact bounced me back—into the waiting arms of one Ranger-from-my-nightmares. A loud “Oomph!” erupted from his throat as I plowed

  into his midsection. I had managed to knock us to the ground, the air from

  our lungs, and my glasses off in one climatic swoop. I was so out of breath I

  was gasping for air, wheezing like an asthmatic.

  “Goddammit!” blasted into my ear.

  I was scrambling to get up first (clearly the more panicked of the two)

  when a steel hand clamped down on me before I could flee.

  “Lemme go!” I screamed with no volume, having no air, while jabbing

  at his eye sockets. Failing this endeavor, I tried getting in a swift, hard kick

  at his soft parts.

  “Settle down!” Ranger expertly dodged another blow to his groin, so I

  began clawing at him now, cursing my lack of fingernails. “Get your ass out

  here and help me with this hellcat!” he ordered, way past the point of being

  put out with me.

  Oh no! . . . No way I could fight off two of them at once! I redoubled my efforts to fight, flailing and clawing desperately. He captured both my wrists,

  hauling me to my feet like a child in the midst of a tantrum. I took advantage

  of my standing position by hauling off and kicking him in the shin. With the

  pointy toe of my boot. Used all the might I had left in me to do it.

  • 75 •

  “Ahhh! You—” He finished with a swift, reflexive backhand, landing

  me sprawled back on the ground, a tangle of arms and legs. A cry of shocked

  pain escaped me, my hair flying about my face in a blinding screen. Ranger

  was busy hopping up and down cursing, so I blindly closed my hand around