Forsaken Page 6

  Shoving away the bitter memories, I force my mind to travel to Egypt, to the archaeological dig site where Lara, because she had been Lara to me then, and I had spent a chunk of our pre-teen and teen years with our parents, learning far more from our explorations with them than our homeschooling. Those had been good times, filled with sibling arguments, lots of laughter, and plenty of shared excitement over historical discoveries. But as easily as I embrace the good times, they always shift into darkness, and soon the images of those days transform into memories of Sheridan meeting my father at that same dig site, before my business with the bastard overtook my father’s.

  The music shifts, the station’s wild mix delivering every genre under the moon that’s nowhere in sight on what has become a cloudy, eternal night. Gia caves to the drugging effect of the road and lies down. Sleep rarely consumes me. Guilt keeps me up and pacing, often running the streets of New York that somehow take me to Amy’s apartment—before I had to move her to Denver.

  The song “Breakdown” by Seether begins to play, the words seeping deep into my soul, burning. And I’m the one you can never trust/ ’cause wounds are ways to reveal us. The words speak to me on every level. Glancing at Gia, not for the first time since she fell asleep, I stare at her long dark hair draped over the makeshift pillow, trying to figure out why I keep doing it. I didn’t stare at Meg. I just fucked her. And filled the void of six years alone I’d thought she’d needed filling in her own way as well. Somehow, I’d let a crack in the wall I’d built around me open up and she’d crawled in, like a true wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Dialing Jared, I get the same voice mail I’m coming to expect with growing concern. He’s the only one left I completely trust, no matter how much I might lead Sheridan and even my fellow treasure hunters at The Underground to believe otherwise. If he’s not answering my calls, I have to consider that he might be dead. And if he’s dead . . . I can’t even think about where this is leading me. I can’t lose Amy. I can’t. I won’t.

  Instantly ready to come out of my own skin, I start tapping my left foot up and down, needing out of this truck and out now. Bypassing a rest stop, I force myself to endure another ten miles, and finally we hit Abilene, Texas, where I get off the highway in hopes of finding a less conventional place to grab supplies and a bathroom, scoring that twenty-four-hour Walmart Gia wanted after all.

  At two a.m., there are only a half-dozen other vehicles in the lot, and I pull into a spot to the left of the doors, allowing us a fast departure should it become necessary. I kill the engine and Gia seems to jolt awake, sitting up and blinking, looking stunned and confused. It pisses me off. “What happened to not sleeping?” I snap, and before she can possibly process my irritation, I’m out of the truck and opening her door.

  “Get out,” I order.

  “Why are you so angry?” she asks, slipping on her shoes, her hair wild, sexy like she is, and it only serves to add an extra level to my anger. “Did something happen I don’t know about?”

  “You went to sleep.”

  “Yes,” she agrees, scooting to the edge of the seat to face me, her skirt riding high on her killer legs. “I went to sleep. Oh, God—did you almost fall asleep? Did you want me to stay awake and talk to you?”

  I shackle her arm and physically slide her out of the truck, my arm wrapping around her waist, her soft curves melding to my now very hard, very tense, body. “Your trust does not equal my trust.”

  Her hand presses to my chest. “Let go. Stop being a bastard.”

  “Stop trusting people you shouldn’t trust.”

  “I don’t trust you. You need me. That keeps me safe for now. I told you that frankly and honestly. And why do you care? You think I’m out to get you anyway.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter if I’m right or wrong about your intentions. You’re two steps away from death, and I’m one of those steps. That means your fate is in the hands of someone who can’t afford to see you as anything but the enemy, which means you are the enemy. And I’m yours. I could have no choice but to kill you. Don’t forget that.”

  “Why? So you don’t have to feel guilty if you do? Well, forget it. If you kill me, I’ll haunt your ass. You can count on it.”

  “Ditto, sweetheart. I’ll come fuck you in your sleep.” I reach around her to shut the door, when my gaze lands on her hand and the blood trickling down her fingers. Cursing, I grab her wrist.

  She tries to tug herself free. “Hands bleed easily. It’s nothing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” I tell her, hanging onto her as I lean inside the truck, opening the glove box, and scoring a handful of fast-food napkins. “Open your hand,” I order, and when she reluctantly complies, I wipe away blood and inspect the deep wound in her hand. “You need stitches that we can’t get you right now.” I close my hand over hers, forcing her to apply pressure on the napkins and the wound. “Hold it tightly until we get inside and get it cleaned and wrapped.”

  I shove the door closed and release her hand. “I’m okay,” she assures me. “I’m tough. I won’t get an infection and die on you without helping you take down Sheridan. I hate him, too.”

  I arch a brow at her fiercely spoken proclamation. “Hate him, do you? Good to know. If it’s true.” I grab her arm and pull her to me. “I’ll want details later.” Our gazes lock, that spark of attraction that’s been with us from the moment we laid eyes on each other ever present.

  “He’s a greedy monster.”

  “We both know it’s more than that, and you’re going to tell me the what, when, where, all of it. But right now, I want in and out of here in fifteen minutes.”

  “You keep threatening me. What if I try to escape?”

  “Run if you want to. Die by Sheridan’s hand. Feel free.” I turn us to the building and head for the automatic doors, stopping just inside the entryway to scan the store, counting not more than two handfuls of shoppers and staff combined.

  “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks as I take her uninjured hand in mine and direct us toward the pharmacy.

  “You can’t repeat what you don’t know.”

  “Kind of like you not being afraid of the lie detector test?” she asks.

  “Bait is for stupid fish, sweetheart,” I say, stopping at the aisle of first aid supplies. “I’m not one of them.” I release her and grab a basket from the end of the aisle, filling it with items she needs to doctor her hand that I hope like hell doesn’t become an issue.

  “I need to know this is all for something,” she argues. “I need to know I’m protecting something.”

  “You proclaimed your hatred of Sheridan,” I say, sticking the basket in her uninjured hand. “Destroying him will have to be enough.” I glance at her feet and back up. “What size shoe do you wear?”

  “Seven.”

  “And pants?”

  “Six. Wait. Are you shopping for me?”

  My answer is to point to the bathroom sign in the corner. “Go clean up. We’ll pay for your supplies when we leave.”

  “What if they think we’re stealing them?”

  “We’ll risk it.” I turn her in the direction she needs to go, my hands on her shoulders as I lean in close, wishing like hell she didn’t still smell so damn good. “Five of the fifteen minutes I’m willing to spend in here are gone. Go now. I’ll be right here waiting on you.”

  Fortunately, she doesn’t argue, and I watch her until she disappears into the small hallway beneath the sign. Scanning the store, I flag down a store employee, a redheaded kid not more than seventeen who quickly joins me.

  “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

  “Long story short, my wife and I missed a flight and the airline lost our luggage. I have to make it to Austin in two hours or they’re giving away our tickets on another flight. Can I give you a hundred bucks to gather some supplies for me while we freshen up and use the bathrooms?”

  The kid’s eyes light up and he pulls a small pad and pen out of his
pocket, and I write down a list for him. “Have it all at a register in ten minutes and there’s an extra fifty in it for you.”

  “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

  He rushes away and I do another quick scan of the visible areas of the store before following Gia’s trail and entering the women’s bathroom. Rounding the corner of a short hallway, I find her alone at one of two sinks, washing her hand, with three open stalls to her left.

  She whirls around to face me, her hand dripping water and blood to the floor. “You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing in here?” She grabs paper towels to dry her hand. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just making sure you’re safe,” I say, moving to inspect the rest of the room.

  “You can’t keep coming into the ladies’ room,” she insists, following me into the last of the three stalls, this one the larger, wheelchair-ready handicapped space, where I give her my back and unzip my pants.

  “Are you—Chad!”

  I glance at her over my shoulder. “It’s called seizing the moment, sweetheart. Go finish playing doctor so I don’t have to.”

  She makes a sound of frustration, her heels clicking as she departs, my lips curving with the silent admission that I enjoy the hell out of aggravating this woman. Finishing my business, I join her at the sink, where she’s struggling to get the bandage wrapped around her palm. I wash my hands, then grab her hand and take over and our eyes lock and collide, the air instantly thick with a huge dose of lust-filled distrust.

  “You’re going to get caught in here,” she warns softly, as if she can’t quite find her voice.

  “It’s a Walmart in Texas,” I tell her. “They’re happy if you manage to show up with pants on.”

  She laughs despite an effort to stop herself. “I suppose so. I’m just nervous about getting attention we don’t need.”

  “We’re fine.” I fit some tape over the bandage on her hand and dump the supplies back inside the basket sitting on the counter.

  “Right,” she agrees. “I know we are.”

  She doesn’t sound convinced, and I can’t seem to quell my need to convince her otherwise. “Don’t let my getting captured fool you. It took him years to find me. I’m good at what I do. He won’t find me again. That means he won’t find you.”

  “Until you’re done with me,” she murmurs, cutting her gaze away from me, and for the first time since that bedroom in East Austin, fear radiates off her. I tell myself to let it go, that she could be working me over, but I can’t seem to care.

  I slip a finger under her chin and force her gaze to mine. “No matter what your intentions were when this started tonight, if you help me, really help me, I’ll make sure you stay protected.”

  “I don’t work for him, and I don’t know why I’m even saying that again. I know I can’t convince you.”

  “I told you. Help me. I’ll help you. Okay?”

  “Yes. Okay.” She’s not convinced, and the truth is, neither am I. I stayed away from people until Meg, Amy included, for a reason. People die when they’re near me, but I’m not telling Gia that, and I let my hand fall away, settling both on my hips.

  She hugs herself and for several beats we simply stare at each other, until she wets her lips, and I try not to look at her mouth, or think about kissing her, but I fail. I think about it. In vivid, I-want-to-fuck-her detail.

  “This is what you do?” she asks. “How you live? Always looking over your shoulder? Is that how I have to live?”

  “What I do is exactly what you said earlier. I, like others in the organization I work for, find what no one else can find.”

  “For a price.”

  “Yes. For a price. We also hide things so no one else can find them.”

  “Sheridan hired you to find the cylinder for him.”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you?”

  “Whether I did or didn’t isn’t what’s relevant. Clearly I didn’t give it to him.”

  “But he thinks you found it.”

  “Yes. And that’s exactly why we need to get moving. He’ll have a reward out for finding us. A big one.” I motion to the bathroom stalls. “You’d better go ‘seize the moment’ yourself. We aren’t stopping again anytime soon.”

  “Okay. But you have to leave.”

  “I’m staying. Shut the door.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “No. I’m not doing that. You have to go. Please. I’ll hurry.”

  It’s the pink flush of embarrassment in her cheeks that makes me concede. “Two minutes or I’m coming back inside.” I don’t waste any of the precious time ticking on the clock hanging around, quickly rounding the corner and exiting the bathroom and the hallway beyond it. Doing another quick scan of my surroundings, I’m satisfied we are not in imminent danger. I lean against the wall, and check my phone for any missed calls I might not have heard, frustrated to find no record of Jared responding to my attempts to contact him.

  My mind replays the short message I’d left him when I hadn’t thought that I’d survive another hour, let alone the two weeks I’d managed to stay in hiding before I’d been captured. I’d been attacked before I could mention Meg, and that could have been a lethal mistake for him and my sister. Gia appears in front of me and I need answers. I take the basket from her and drop it to the ground, my hands closing on her shoulders. “What do you know about my sister?”

  “What? Nothing. I know nothing.”

  “You know nothing about Amy?” I press. “Nothing at all.”

  “Amy?” She looks stunned, her voice taking on a rasp. “Her name is Amy?”

  “What do you know about my sister?” I demand, tension coiling in every part of my body.

  “Nothing. I mean, I heard something. Maybe.”

  My fingers flex into her arms. “What? What did you hear?”

  “He was talking to someone.”

  “He who?” I demand.

  “Sheridan. He told them to find Amy.”

  “Who was he talking to?”

  “I don’t know. It was a phone call he was on, and I didn’t answer his calls.”

  “Are you sure it was on the business line, or was it a cell phone?”

  “I don’t know that, either. I walked to his door and it was open a crack.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Last week.”

  “Last week,” I repeat. “You’re sure it was last week?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers curl around my shirt. “Chad. If he had her, he would have used her against you. That’s the kind of man he is. You know that.”

  “If he didn’t have her, he would have used her against me, too. So why didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know you had a sister. It makes no sense that he didn’t.”

  “If I find out you know more—”

  “You won’t. I don’t.”

  There was a time in my life when her answer would have been enough, but that was before I made a deal with the devil that got my parents killed. I search her face, and deep in those blue eyes I see what someone else wouldn’t see. What I breathe for breakfast, lunch, and dinner: the lies, the secrets, the guilt. I reach up and drag my finger over her cheek. “Meg didn’t fuck me into submission as I know Sheridan believed she could. I felt sorry for her. I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “Am I supposed to be upset or say thank you?”

  “I don’t care what you are. Just know this. It’s only a matter of time before we’re alone.”

  “I’m not sure what that means, but I’m guessing it’s a threat.”

  “It’s a promise.” I grab her hand, and leaving the basket behind, head for the front register where all the supplies we need should be waiting. Why didn’t Sheridan use Amy against me? And why did Gia just assume he didn’t? Getting Gia alone and to myself is sounding better every minute.

  IT’S TWENTY MINUTES from the time we enter the store until the time I’m pulling out of the driveway of Walmart and back onto the highway. Beside me,
Gia eagerly trades her high heels for the flat sandals the clerk picked out for her. “My feet thank you,” she says, slipping them on. “I thank you.”

  “Dig out that screwdriver I bought, will you?” I ask, focused on more important matters.

  She leans over the seat, digging around and producing it as I cut left onto a residential street where I park next to a dark house. “What are we doing?”

  “Covering our tracks,” I say, taking the screwdriver from her. “Stay put.” I climb out and make fast work of removing both license plates, returning to set them on the seat between us.

  “Won’t we get more attention without plates?” she asks as I start driving again.

  “Yes,” I agree. Cutting to the left and back to the access road, I turn into the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour Denny’s with rear parking. Quickly claiming a spot between two pick-up trucks, both with Texas plates, I put us in idle.

  “Stay put,” I instruct again, grabbing our plates and squatting low as I exit the truck, and then making quick work again of removing the plates from the truck next to us and replacing them with ours. Once I’ve attached the new plates to our stolen vehicle, I return to Gia and put us in Drive.

  One problem solved. Next up: the one sitting next to me.

  FIVE

  ABOUT AN HOUR into the ride, my eyes are heavy and the gas tank is empty. I make a quick stop for gas at a deserted twenty-four-hour store, careful not to be spotted by the attendant. Despite a need for caffeine and food, I skip a trip inside the store and opt for a drive-thru not far down the road, parking in a dark corner at a closed retail store as Gia and I all but inhale our burgers and fries.

  “That was so bad for my waistline,” she murmurs, finishing her food and stuffing the wrappers into the bag. “But I can’t seem to care. I might die soon. I’m not doing it without one last order of French fries.”