Читать книгу Storm - Brigid Kemmerer - Страница 13

CHAPTER 7

Work sucked. But at least tonight she got to work the floor. You were supposed to be eighteen, but when people called in sick, Becca got a reprieve from cleaning kennels and scrubbing the pet baths, and instead put on a service smock and a name tag.

Working sales paid a full two dollars more per hour. Not like she needed the money this week, with Chris’s sixty bucks securely stashed in the employee lockers.

She didn’t want to keep it, but she sure as hell didn’t want to have another conversation with him. Maybe she could just never spend it. She’d stick it in the domestic violence jar at the front of the store, or the homemade can for that kid with leukemia.

Then again, gas wasn’t cheap. Or maybe she could replace her cell phone. Or save it for a Homecoming dress.

Homecoming. OMG, Bex. You’re hilarious.

Becca stacked cans of cat food on the shelf, a practiced motion she could do blindfolded. A couple rows over, some guys were jostling each other in the dog food aisle, and Becca sighed. She’d been listening to their bullshitting for ten minutes, and she’d bet her paycheck they were counting on a five-finger discount.

Pets Plus wasn’t exactly well patrolled. It was a PetSmart wannabe, without the big-box budget or the floor space. The only other person working the floor was Jerry, the night manager, and he’d stepped out for a smoke.

When she heard at least a dozen cans rattle onto the tile, followed by a too-loud curse from one of the guys, she set the cat food aside and went to clean up the mess.

She fixed her expression into polite sternness. More cans hit the floor before she reached the aisle. What were they doing, sweeping them off the shelf?

“Excuse me,” she said as she rounded the corner. “Maybe I could help you—”

She stopped short. At least fifteen cans of dog food lay scattered on the linoleum. A few were still rolling, and some bounced off her sneakers to careen into the main aisle. But above it all stood Seth. And Tyler.

She almost couldn’t breathe.

They looked just as sharp and frightening in the fluorescent store lighting as in the darkness of the parking lot. Tyler’s face carried more shadows, his eyes almost electric. They both wore wolfish smiles, and she’d been right—Seth was clearly shoving a can into the black backpack that hung from his arm.

“Hey,” he said, dragging the word into three syllables, a mockery of a catcall. “It’s Chris’s bodyguard.”

Tyler had a can of dog food in his hand, and he tossed it into the air and caught it like a baseball, thoughtfully, as if he’d pitch it at her next. “You following us now?”

Following them? Couldn’t he see the stupid smock and name tag?

She shook her head. “No. Let me just get—”

Tyler grabbed her arm. She hadn’t even seen him move. “Maybe we didn’t get our point across last night.”

“Get your hands off me.” She tried to jerk her wrist out of his grip, but he held fast. She fought him.

Tyler’s free hand drew back with the can, as if ready to let fly at her face.

But Seth caught his arm. “Dude. Not here.”

She stumbled over her words. She couldn’t even get it together to yell for help. Someone was whispering, “Holy crap,” over and over again. It took a second to realize it was her.

“Yeah,” said Tyler, jerking his arm free, the can still in his fist. “Try that kung fu shit again, and see what I do to you.”

“The manager will be right back,” she babbled. “He’s ... yeah. Take the dog food—whatever you want—I’m not going to kung fu—to—ah—”

Tyler pulled her closer. “What’s yours?”

He still hadn’t let go of the can, and she felt certain that he was going to slug her in the face with it. It took her a moment to respond, and even then, she had no idea what he was talking about. “What’s ... mine?”

He leaned in and inhaled, as if smelling the air around her. “Look, you want to play stupid in here, fine. Maybe we can send you home to Chris with a little message.”

How frigging long did it take Jerry to smoke a cigarette? “I don’t live with Chris—I mean, I barely know the guy—”

“Save it.” He gave her a little shake. “That little stunt they pulled last night? The deal is done. Get it? Done.”

He was staring down at her as though his words should have made an impact. She shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”

He shoved her up against the shelving, until metal dug into her shoulder and scraped her through the shirt. “If they pull this shit again, we’re going to take care of it ourselves. Get it?”

She tried to squirm away from him, feeling her throat tighten.

His grip tightened, and her arm started to ache. No, it started to burn. She squealed, but that only made it worse.

He leaned in. “Get it?”

His hand felt hot through her sleeve, like a branding iron. She could swear her arm was on fire. Tears were in her eyes and she didn’t care now. “But I don’t—”

A dog growled to her left. A dark, menacing growl, the kind that prefaced an attack. She and Tyler both snapped their heads to the side.

Pets were allowed in the store, of course. Nice ones. But a massive German shepherd stood there, his lips pulled back, his black ears flat, a low round of bass rolling from his throat. His tail wagged slowly, a sure sign of aggression. A red leash hung from his collar, but there was no human attached to the other end of it.

Her head snapped back to Tyler. Her mind couldn’t decide which to fear more.

“Get.” Tyler lashed a foot out at the dog. “Go on, get.”

The dog dropped a few inches and did that sharp snapping growl. Tyler lifted the can again, this time aiming for the dog.

“Casper.” A male voice spoke from behind the guys. “Hierr. Fuss.”

Either that wasn’t English, or her mental faculties had completely abandoned her.

The animal sprang over the spilled cans of dog food, dashed between the two guys who had her, and snapped to attention beside a man at the end of the aisle.

No, not a man, a teenager. Defined features, sandy blond hair with a streak of white, and small, odd tattoos—the new kid from World History.

Could her night get any more surreal?

Tyler and his friend were staring at him, too, sizing him up, their expressions locked in that panic between fight and flight. Tyler’s fingers loosened on her arm. The burning stopped.

“Oh, good,” said New Kid, his tone flat and ironic. “Here’s the dog food.”

“Get lost,” said Tyler.

Becca forced her tongue to work. “Call the cops.”

Tyler jerked her close and shook her hard. “Shut your mouth, you little—”

Then he screamed and she was free.

The dog was attached to his arm, snarling. She could see blood. Tyler scrabbled back, flailing into the shelves of dry dog chow, but the dog didn’t let go. “Get him off me! Get him off! Get him—”

“Platz,” said the new guy. He stepped into the aisle. “Casper, platz.”

The dog released Tyler and returned to New Kid’s side, dropping to the floor beside him. There was blood on his muzzle, but his tongue lolled out, as if it was all in a day’s work.

Tyler clutched his forearm, glaring at New Kid as if he’d done more than just stand there. Blood stained his fingers and appeared in an artful splash across the front of his shirt. “I’m going to kill that dog. I swear. I’m going to rip his goddamn head off—”

“Really?” New Kid leaned back against the shelving and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Go ahead. Try it.”

The dog shut his mouth and growled.

Seth grabbed Tyler by the shoulder. “Come on. Just—come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Tyler let himself be dragged—for a moment. Then he turned back and looked at her. “You tell Chris. You hear me? You tell him.”

She wanted to tell Tyler to go to hell. But he was leaving, and she wanted that more. So she jerked her head up and down. “I’ll tell him.”

The door chimes rang at the front of the store, and she heard Jerry’s voice as they shoved past him on his way in. “In a rush, aren’t you, boys?”

A moment later, she heard her boss messing with the register.

She stared at New Kid, still leaning against the shelving, dressed exactly as he’d been that morning. The white streak hung over one eye, leaving the other to watch her.

She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. Her arm felt stiff and sore where Tyler had grabbed her.

The dog pushed up and padded over to sniff her hand, then pressed his massive body against her legs. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth, his ears were cocked sideways, his demeanor as nonthreatening as the old Labrador that slept under Jerry’s desk in the back room. She reached down absently to pet him, letting his wiry fur pull through her fingers.

“You’re not afraid of him?” said New Kid.

“He took me by surprise before. I’m not afraid of dogs.” She cleared her throat and glanced up at him. “You know, if an animal gets threatening, I’m supposed to make you leave the store.”

“Yeah? What’s your policy when people get threatening?”

Heat sat on her cheeks. She’d meant that as a joke. She ducked to start picking up the cans on the floor, setting them haphazardly on the shelves.

The dog was sniffing at her hair. She reached up a hand and rubbed him behind his ear, and he started doing that rawr-rawr-rawr the big dogs always did when you found their good spot.

Sure enough, in a moment he was on the floor, on his back, begging to have his belly rubbed.

“You’re ruining his tough guy image,” said New Kid.

It made her smile. She obliged the dog, giving his chest a good scratch. “Seriously, you should keep him on a leash. They’re tough on dog laws around here.”

“He is on a leash.”

She gave him a wry look. “Then someone should be holding it.”

He smiled, but it was brief, and his gaze was a little too intent. “Did they hurt you?”

Becca looked back at the dog. “Nah. They’re just stupid punks.”

“Who’s Chris?”

She shrugged. “Guy from school. I don’t really know him, but they ... ah ... saw me with him, and they think we’re friends or something.” She gave the dog a final pat and resumed picking up the cans.

New Kid dropped to a knee and started to help her. His arm brushed hers.

She told her cheeks to knock off the frigging blushing already. He’d made that comment to Tommy in class—he’d been kidding, right? Or was he gay? She couldn’t get a read.

“You don’t have to help,” she began, but the dog picked up a can and set it on the shelf, then pushed it with his nose.

She stared. “What kind of dog is this?”

“A German shepherd.” New Kid grabbed a few more cans. The dog grabbed another. “My uncle was a K-9 cop. Casper used to be a police dog.”

“Used to be?”

There was a little flinching around his eyes. She’d said it before registering the importance of words like was and used to be, and now she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. “God—that was stupid. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. It’s okay.” He gave a little shrug, but he wasn’t looking at her now. “My uncle died in a car wreck.”

“So you got to keep his dog?”

“Sort of.” His eyes were focused on the shelf, and his hands moved more slowly. “Casper was in the car with him.” He paused, straightening the cans he’d just placed. “Me and my dad, too.”

She studied his profile, the studs and rings along the outside of his ear, the markings on his neck. He didn’t look like any teenager she knew, but was some hybrid of Goth and punk and new age. He rubbed at a can where the ruckus had torn a bit of the paper, and the light caught the stones on his twine bracelets.

“My mom thought it’d be a good idea for her and me to move back here,” he said. “Stay with her folks for a while.”

That had to mean his father had been killed, too. She started to say, “I’m sorry,” but she’d just said that, and he’d brushed it off. It felt odd, kneeling here in the aisle talking about death with some guy whose name she didn’t even know. She wanted to ask, but now, after such an intimate exchange, asking his name felt rude, like they were well past the basics. She fumbled to grab another can, but there weren’t many left.

He reached for one as well, but Casper ducked under his arm and started licking his face. New Kid smiled and lightly pushed him away, scratching the scruff of his neck. “Bravy, Casper. Bravy.”

“Your dog speaks another language? Does he do your Calculus homework, too?”

“German. Just the commands.” He placed the last can and straightened, looking slightly self-conscious for the first time. “Lots of police dogs do.”

She scratched the dog on the top of his head again. “Well, I think he’s pretty cool.”

New Kid moved toward the end of the aisle and grabbed one of the forty-pound bags of dry dog food, and she took a moment to appreciate what that did for the muscles in his upper arms.

He gave her a shadow of a smile, and she realized she was staring. She jerked her eyes away, but he said, “I’ve never used him to meet girls, but this whole rescuing thing could work out for me.”

Check. Not gay. “Well, I’m not sure the cheerleaders would go for someone whose dog weighed more than they do.”

He reached up a hand and pushed his hair off his face. “Who would, you think?”

“Softball team,” she said without missing a beat. “Those chicks are tough.”

He grinned. “Thanks for the tip.” He started to turn for the front of the store, then stopped. “You play softball?”

“Nope.” Now she knew she was blushing. “Those bags are heavy. You should take that up front.”

“Good call.” He turned for the end of the aisle and Casper bounded up to walk beside him. She opened her mouth to stop him, to say something witty, to make conversation with someone who didn’t expect her to do him a favor in the dark later.

Right. It’s his first day. That’ll last about five minutes.

Then New Kid stopped. He gave her a smile over his shoulder before looking at the dog. “Casper, she said someone has to hold your leash.”

The dog barked.

Then he dipped his head, picked up the end of the leash in his mouth, and trotted after his master.

Her shift ended at nine-thirty. Becca made it to Chris’s house before ten. Fury got her there, but fear trapped her in the car once she made it to the driveway.

She stared at the front porch for a long minute. If she sat here much longer, someone was sure to notice. She wondered if she should just pull out of the driveway and go home.

But she was supposed to work this weekend. What if Tyler and his friend came back?

She’d been lucky New Kid showed up with his police dog. Maybe she could ask to borrow Casper and just forget Chris Merrick existed.

Excuse me. Yeah, I don’t know your name, but can I borrow your dog? I work three shifts per week. I’ll give him a cut of my pay. Bonuses paid in rawhide.

Right.

The air sat thick and heavy with humidity when she climbed the porch steps to knock. Another storm was coming.

She remembered Gabriel’s comment the night before, about girls not being an oddity around here. She wondered if she’d come across like that, knocking on their door at ten o’clock at night, like some desperate chick mooning after them all, especially after Chris had asked her—what? Out? What had happened at lunch?

The door swung wide. Michael stood in the light of the foyer. Same ponytail, same careless appearance. His jeans looked a little nicer, and he was wearing shoes tonight, but he still needed a shave. A cordless phone was held to his ear.

He wasn’t a big guy, but he sure wasn’t little. She remembered how he’d tried to grab her, and she took a step back. “I—ah—is Chris—”

He held up a finger, pointed to the phone, then took a step back and waved her inside.

She stepped across the threshold, trying to keep her shoulders square. She slid a hand into her jeans pocket and threaded her fingers through her keys again.

“No,” he said, and it took her a second to realize he was speaking into the phone, not to her. “You can buy it by the bag, but a sack of mulch will only cover about four square feet ... mm-hmm ...”

He headed for the kitchen, leaving her standing there by the door. She had no idea whether he expected her to follow.

When he reached the doorway, he glanced back and gave her an exasperated look. He put a hand over the bottom of the receiver and whispered, “You want to come sit down or what?”

She scurried after him, but he was already speaking into the phone again. “You’re welcome to have your husband call me, but I feel fairly certain you’ll need more than ten bags to go around your house.” Becca could hear the sigh behind his voice.

He pulled out a chair for her without looking, and she perched on the edge. A laptop sat open on the kitchen table, next to a bottle of water and a three-inch white binder bursting with worn pages. A regular spiral notebook lay beside it, the page covered with chicken scratch.

“Yes, the bushes will take up some of the square footage—but still, I’m thinking truckloads, not bags. Would you like me to come out and—”

He sat across from her, put an elbow on the table, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I fully understand. Have him call me. I’ll come out and give an estimate ... okay, then. Okay. Yes. Okay.”

He pushed the button on the phone and set it on the table. Both hands came up to rub his eyes. “People give me a headache. Everybody wants to nickel-and-dime. Ten bags of mulch for, like, four thousand square feet. Jesus.” His hands dropped and he looked at her. “You know that’s crazy, right?”

How the hell would she know? Mom was lucky she could work the mower. Becca thought of the meticulous landscaping out front. “You ... ah ... you work for a landscaping company?”

“I am a landscaping company.” He uncapped the water and took a swig. “You here for Chris?”

He didn’t seem to be making any threatening moves, but she kept on the edge of the chair. “If I say yes, are you going to try to kill me?”

He sighed and glanced away. “Look, I didn’t mean to frighten you last night. You ran out of here so quick—”

“You mean after you grabbed me?”

“You mean after you punched me with a fistful of keys?”

“Yeah, well, you were—” She broke off and flushed. He’d just been standing there, acting scary. Now that she thought about it, he’d never made a move toward her.

Then she remembered how she’d fought to evade him in the yard. “What about when I was trying to get to my car? I should have you arrested for assault.”

He slid the phone across the table. “Go ahead.”

Now she wanted to punch him with the keys and it had nothing to do with self-defense. “You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’m such an asshole. Trying to keep an upset kid from flying out of here in the middle of a rainstorm.” He rolled his eyes. “They’d better lock me up for sure.”

Now she had to look away. She kind of felt like an idiot, but she hadn’t imagined his aggression, his threatening tone.

Michael let the silence stretch out for a moment, until she wanted to squirm, and she had to focus to remember why she’d even come here.

She refused to look at him. “Is Chris home?”

“Yeah. Top of the stairs. Make a left.”

He expected her to just go up to his room?

She remembered going to Drew’s house once, last May. Drew’s mom had made sure they stayed in plain sight in the den. The woman had seemed to know every time Drew’s hands found Becca’s knee or the curve of her waist. At the time, Becca had wanted the woman to go the hell away and mind her own business.

Now, in retrospect, she owed Mrs. McKay a hug.

“You want an escort or something?” said Michael. He was already looking at his laptop, his fingers striking the keys.

She shoved herself out of her chair and headed for the steps.

Five doors were on the second level, but she never got to make a left. A bathroom was just to her right, the door wide open. One of the twins stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth.

Shirtless.

Breath left her lungs in a rush and she almost stumbled on the last step. Loose button-fly jeans hung low at his hips, exposing just the edge of a pair of boxers. She could clearly see the clean muscled line of his back, the smooth tapering of his rib cage into a tight waist.

He caught her eye in the mirror and grinned around the toothbrush before ducking to spit. He turned off the faucet and wiped his mouth on a towel before turning to face her.

“You’re back,” he said.

She looked at him—a huge mistake, because it put her eyes right on his chest. The guy was no stranger to a bench press. “Ah ... yeah. Are you Nick or Gabriel?”

He stepped close, until she could smell the spearmint in his toothpaste. “Does it matter?”

Her cheeks were burning. It was a lot harder to maintain independence and indifference when a hot guy was standing half-naked in front of her. She gulped and grasped at the banister. “I was looking for Chris’s room—but, ah—you know, I’ll just see him tomorrow—”

“No way.” He grabbed her hand. “Come here.”

He dragged her around the corner. His fingers were warm on hers. She stared at the beige walls, at the neutral carpeting, anything but the guy attached to her arm.

He knocked on a door. “Hey, Chris. There’s a girl here for you.”

Something heavy hit the door. “Shut up, Gabriel. I’m busy.”

She stared at the doorknob, unsure whether to be dismayed or relieved. But at least she knew who had hold of her arm.

Gabriel knocked again. “Hurry. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold her.”

Angry footsteps, then the door flew open. Chris glanced from her to his brother and back. “Oh.”

She stared back at him, knowing her face was still flushed, her eyes desperate for a fully clothed target. Luckily, Chris fit the bill with sweatpants and a tee shirt. She could see into the room behind him: nice, really. A double bed that hadn’t been made that morning, with a navy comforter haphazardly thrown across the bottom. The floor was mostly clean, though his laundry sat in a pile in the corner, under a rather impressive fish tank. It had a fluorescent light and everything, and reminded her of something a little boy would have. Finding it in his room was somehow ... charming. A desk sat by the open window, almost an afterthought. The tiny halogen light was on, books and notebooks strewn across the surface.

“See?” said Gabriel. “A real one. Breathing and everything.”

Chris didn’t look entirely happy about her presence. “What are you doing here?”

She dug her free hand into her pocket and pulled out the sixty dollars. “Here.”

His face went stony. He made no move to take the money. “You came all the way over here for this?”

Becca wanted to throw the cash at him. She jerked her hand out of his brother’s. “No. I came all the way over here to tell you Tyler and Seth showed up at the pet store where I work.”

Gabriel got in front of her and crossed his arms. The smile was gone. “What are you talking about?”

She stared up and over his right shoulder and gritted her teeth. “Could you please put a shirt on?”

“Did they hurt you?” said Chris.

“No. Yes. It’s fine. Tyler just—” Her throat suddenly got tight.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They were both staring at her. Of course.

Chris shoved his brother in the shoulder. “Go. Put on a shirt.” Then he took a step back. “Come in. Sit down a minute.”

She deliberated in the doorway for a moment, then followed him in. She glanced dubiously at the bed. No way was she sitting next to him on it. So she edged around him and sat in the desk chair. She dropped the crumpled twenties next to his Physics textbook.

He settled on the corner of the bed and rested his forearms on his knees. “You want to tell me what happened?”

She fought for any emotion to replace the tears. Anger usually did the trick, and this time was no exception.

“Why’d you give me sixty dollars?” she demanded.

“You said I owed you.” A dark smile, though there wasn’t much humor to it. “Personally, I thought sixty bucks was pretty cheap.”

“Whatever. You know I was kidding. Didn’t you think what it would look like? You don’t have to treat me like a—”

“Wait a minute.” He came halfway off the bed. “I didn’t treat you like anything. I asked you out, you said no.”

“Asked me out. You asked me to a soccer game.”

“So what?” He looked incredulous. “God, you are the most baffling girl—”

“Oh, okay. Your brothers didn’t put you up to this? Maybe your friend Drew?”

He was standing now, his fists clenched, a little flare of color on his cheeks. “What do my brothers have to do with anything?”

“Hey, little brother.” Gabriel came back through the door and flopped on the bed, drawing his legs up to sit against the wall. “Girls are more likely to stay if you don’t fight with them.”

Chris was still staring at her, his breathing a little quick.

She looked away from him. Gabriel had put a shirt on—a dark green one with a screen print of a truck. It said, My other ride is your mom.

Her eyebrows went up. “Hilarious.”

He grinned. “I aim to please.” He reached up over his head and knocked on the wall. “Nicky!”

She straightened. “Wait—look, I just came to—”

“Trust me. He won’t want to miss this.”

A door in the hallway opened; then his twin appeared in the doorway, wearing jeans and a Henley and an irritated expression. “If you want me to fix your homework, you need to leave me alone.” Then he spotted her. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” She glanced between him and Gabriel. “You do his homework?”

“Just the math. It’s a miracle he can count to ten.”

“I can count to one.” Gabriel gave him the finger.

Chris sighed. He’d settled onto the end of the bed again, his expression flat and dark and full of unidentifiable emotion. “Just tell us what happened with Seth and Tyler, Becca.” His voice was low, intimate, almost too soft for company. He met her eyes and held them, making her pulse step up. “Then you can get out of here.”

Becca couldn’t sort out the sudden emotion—she felt as if her heart had started scattering butterflies through her abdomen, then he’d kicked her in the stomach and pissed them all off.

She swallowed. “They came by the pet store where I work. They were stealing dog food.”

“Does Michael know that’s why you’re here?” said Nick.

She shook her head. “Does it matter?”

Gabriel snorted. “Doubt it.”

A slow peal of thunder rolled in the distance. “They threatened you?” said Chris.

Her arm still throbbed. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from touching it. “Someone else came in, and they ran off. It’s fine.”

Chris was watching her a bit too intently. “They did hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

A bolt of lightning split the sky, somewhere beyond the trees. This time, thunder cracked.

Becca shoved out of the chair and tucked her hair behind her ears. She should never have come here. “Forget it.”

She felt Chris behind her when she made it to the stairs. “Wait a minute,” he said.

She didn’t. “Whatever your mess is with that guy Tyler, get me out of it, okay?”

“Stop. Wait. Just tell me—”

“You stop.” She whirled on him at the door. “You, Chris. You stop. I get hassled enough. I need my job. I don’t need to be in the middle of some version of West Side Story meets High School Musical.”

“I’m not trying to hassle you.” His voice was intense and quiet, the way you’d talk to a cornered animal.

“Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.” She seized the knob and gave it a firm yank. The humidity swirled through the doorway to grab her, latching onto her skin and refusing to let go. She stormed off his porch.

Chris kept up. “Wait.”

She ignored him, shoving through the night air to get to her car.

“Wait. Please. Just tell me what happened.”

Her key slid into the lock, but the door refused to give. She made a frustrated noise and slapped it with the heel of her hand.

Then it started to rain.

She swore. “Great.”

Chris was still right behind her. She heard his breathing, could feel his presence like a weight at her back. Rain touched her cheek and rolled down her neck, finding a path under the neckline of her shirt to trail along her shoulder. The water felt warm, like a finger tracing the side of her face.

The thought made her shiver, and she swiped it away.

Chris reached out and took hold of the door handle. It lifted and opened without protest.

Figures. She turned to look at him. Her breathing felt a little quick. “Thanks.”

His eyes were dark. He didn’t seem to mind the rain on his face. “You’re welcome.”

Becca slid behind the wheel and pushed her key into the ignition. But she couldn’t make herself start the car, and he was standing there with a hand on the door, holding it open.

She sighed. “Tyler said if you pulled this again, that they’d take care of it themselves. That the deal was done.”

Chris didn’t say anything for the longest moment. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him, unable to figure out his expression. “What does that mean?”

Lightning flashed, illuminating his features for a moment. For an instant, he looked frightening.

Then the lightning was gone, and he smiled in the darkness. “I have absolutely no idea.”

And with that, he swung her door shut and turned for the house.