Out of Love, page 4
Blood.
A lot of blood.
My other hand reached for my side; it was bloody too, but the blood on my leg was not mine. My side wasn’t bleeding that much.
“Help …” I croaked, but it came out as barely a whisper while I stumbled a few steps, my knees shaky and my body frail with fear.
“Help …” I said a little louder.
I kept moving toward the front of the store. A young couple getting out of their car saw me and rushed to help me.
Chapter Five
I didn’t call my dad.
I gave the police my account of what happened, and Aubrey, Kara, and Missy picked me up from the hospital after I was examined and three stitches were placed into my side to close the small wound.
My dad would have thrown me over his shoulder and hauled my ass from LA back to San Francisco. He would have locked me in the house and not let me return to school until he figured out a way to hire a bodyguard for me.
So I took the rest of the week off from school. I talked with Aubrey’s therapist—on her parents’ dollar. Dr. Izzy Garfield suggested I tell my family. I nodded, knowing there was no way I would ever tell my overprotective father.
I didn’t rule out telling Aunt Jessica … eventually.
Just a few yards away from the convenience store dumpster, they found the man who tried to rape me—with his throat slit. As for who killed him? That remained an ongoing investigation with no witnesses and no leads. The suspicious part was they found bloody prints from a dog, but the man who tried to rape me wasn’t killed by an animal. I told the police that I thought I saw a brief shadow … almost like a ghost of a dog disappearing into the distance.
“I’m not leaving you.” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me perched on the sofa watching HGTV as the other girls waited at the door with their suits on, cooler packed.
“I’m fine.” I smiled.
“Then why aren’t you going with us? You don’t have to surf. You can chill with me.” Aubrey prodded. “I should call your dad. If he finds out we didn’t—”
“Dude!” I pressed the heels of my hands to my temples. “I have three stitches. The man is dead. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like the beach today. Is that a crime?”
All three of my friends cringed at my outburst.
I sighed, drawing my knees toward my chest and resting my chin on them, gaze on the television. “Sorry. I’m just … fine. Please go and have fun for me. One day. Give me one more day. I’m going back to school tomorrow. Can we just forget about this? Please.”
After a few seconds of silence, Aubrey nodded. “Lock the door when we leave. Keep your phone by you. I’ll be checking in regularly.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I relinquished a small smirk and sideways glance.
Seconds after the door closed behind them, I jumped off the sofa and locked it. Then I checked the back door and all the windows. After I made a sandwich, I peeked out the back windows and the front windows. “You’re paranoid,” I murmured to myself. Then I slowly unlocked the front door. I could sit on the porch. I did it all the time. It was safe. Nothing to fear.
Yet … all I felt was fear.
As I eased the door open an inch, I froze.
Like a stone statue, Jericho sat outside my front door. No Slade in sight.
“Hey …” I opened the door the rest of the way. “What are you doing, Jerry?” I glanced right and left.
Nope. No Slade.
I feathered my fingers over his head and back, continuing to survey the area for … anyone. “Are you thirsty?”
He collapsed into a downward position, facing the street.
“Come,” I nodded toward the door.
He ignored me.
“Okay. I’ll be right back. You just … I don’t know. Wait for me.” I grinned while disappearing into the house to fill a bowl with water. When I set it beside him, he took a few slurps before resuming his position like a guard dog.
“Are you here for me?” I sat on the stone porch in the shade next to him. “There’s no way he lost you. So …” I stared at the firehouse, looking for any signs of my asshole neighbor. What if something happened to him? I wondered if I was the only other person Jericho knew besides Slade. However, Jericho didn’t know where I lived. So that didn’t make sense.
“You’re a pretty boy. Did you know that?” I brushed my hand along his back several times. A few minutes later, I grabbed my computer and pulled a chair next to my guard dog to get some schoolwork done and respond to the texts Aubrey sent me every thirty minutes. Other than the occasional pissing in the sparse area of grass, Jericho stayed next to me all afternoon.
When the girls pulled into the driveway, he stood and trotted toward the firehouse.
“Jerry?” I called after him.
He kept going like a robot programmed to stay until they returned.
“What’s going on?” Missy asked as they climbed out, hair damp and windblown, faces freshly kissed by the sun.
I returned my gaze to Jericho who disappeared to the backside of the firehouse. “I think he sent his dog to protect me.”
Kara laughed. “Unlikely. Seriously … what was he doing here?”
I shrugged, moving the chair back to its spot. “I’m serious. I don’t know. He appeared shortly after you left. Then he just … took off when you pulled into the driveway.”
“And Slade?” Missy’s single eyebrow peaked.
“No sign of him.”
“Do you think it was him?” Kara opened the door, and we shuffled inside.
“What do you mean?” I plopped down on the sofa with my computer.
“Do you think it was Slade who killed your abductor?”
I gazed out the window and shook my head slowly. “No. He’s … a creep. Mysterious. And maybe a druggie. But my gut tells me he’s not a killer. Killers don’t send their dogs to guard the doors of women they despise.”
“Well, if he sent his dog to keep watch over you, I don’t think he despises you,” Missy said as she headed up the stairs.
“Maybe he just doesn’t want anyone to kill you before he gets a chance to do it himself.” Kara smirked while Aubrey gasped. Kara cringed. “Sorry. Too soon for that joke?”
My grin answered her question, which only made Aubrey huff off in a tizzy because I wasn’t taking the situation seriously. Or so it seemed.
“Why would he send his dog unless … he knows? And how would he know?” Kara continued while slipping off her tank top, revealing the sunburn from the cut of her new bikini top.
“People talk. I haven’t been in class. Gossip spreads quickly.”
“Or …” She pulled the strap away from her shoulder and frowned at the red line. “He was there that night. Saving you like … a vigilante.”
I chuckled. “A vigilante?”
“We don’t know his true intentions yet. Vigilante is the most we can say for sure right now. But Livy … seriously … what if he killed someone to save you?”
I stared at her, not knowing what to say. She blew out a slow breath and headed upstairs.
In reality, I was thoroughly rattled by the gas station incident. I wasn’t sleeping. Keeping it from my dad weighed heavily on my conscience, and simple things like walking to the mailbox or the thought of walking down the street the next day to grab a scooter scared the shit out of me. Parking on or near campus was a nightmare, hence the reason I grabbed a scooter, but I knew I’d be Jeeping it for a while.
But … I didn’t want my friends to know any of that.
*
The next morning, I put on a brave face and forced myself to follow my usual routine, including my mint green tea before class. Instead of waiting to stalk my neighbor and his dog, I took a seat three rows from the front and kept my attention on the professor, not once looking back to see if Slade and Jericho were there.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t curious. I was. I just felt out of sorts about not only the incident the previous week, but about Jericho watching over me.
Slade called the police on me for trespassing. He threatened to do bodily harm to me for offering his dog a piece of pear. Guys like that didn’t risk life in prison for girls like me.
After class, I made my way to my tree. Slipping in one earbud, I rested on my back, using my backpack as a pillow and closing my eyes. I felt safer in the light of day, surrounded by other students, than I did in my bed at night. And I was so very tired.
Nearly sleeping past my next class, I opened my eyes and glanced at my watch. “Shit!” I had two minutes to make the ten-minute trek to class. Thankfully, no one gave me a second glance when I slipped into the room a few minutes late. As I pulled my computer from my bag, a folded sheet of paper fell out with it. I picked it up and grinned. It was the note I gave to Slade.
Have you ever torn a person’s arm off? No.
Ripped their tongue from their mouth? No.
Do you surf? Yes.
How old is Jerry? Five.
Would you happen to have a stick of gum on you?
Taped to the bottom of the paper was a stick of gum.
“Wylder …” I whispered, unwrapping the gum and sliding it into my mouth. Peppermint.
Not spearmint.
Not wintermint.
Not cinnamon.
My favorite … peppermint.
Later that afternoon, I parked my Jeep in the street and strode down to the firehouse, stopping at the end of the driveway with the black Volvo. Risking another trespassing warning, I meandered toward the garage, slowly turning the handle. It opened, giving way to a slightly offensive burning smell and Slade in a long-sleeved shirt, welding gloves, and a welder’s mask.
He didn’t stop or even give a glance in my direction as I closed the door behind me, inspecting the workbench, gas tanks, pieces of metal, and the vent in the ceiling above him. After a few minutes, he shut off the torch and flipped up his mask.
Hugging my arms to my body, I smiled. “Hi.”
He let his gaze work its way down my body and slowly back up to my eyes. But he said nothing.
“Where’s Jerry?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed.
I cleared the frog from my throat. “Jericho.”
He nodded toward the house.
I glanced behind me, even though I knew the door was shut and there was nothing to see. Maybe I just needed a few seconds away from the intensity of his gaze on me. “Did you …” I forced my attention back to him. “Uh … did you …” I couldn’t ask. What if it wasn’t him? Then I’d be confessing my near rape. “Yesterday. I um … I needed Jericho … what I mean is I needed something, and he was it.”
Slade relinquished three full blinks.
After nervously scraping my teeth along my lower lip for a few seconds, I lifted a shoulder. “So … thanks for letting him hang out with me. I don’t know why you did it, but I’m grateful to you for … well … whatever the reason.”
Did you kill that man? Did you? Why did you? Tell me! Say something!
Slade nodded once, flipped his mask down over his face, and started his torch again. I wanted to ask what he was doing or making or fixing. I wanted to ask him so many things, but I decided to quit before the cops were called. He wasn’t going to give me everything in one day. That much was clear.
So … I decided to wait. After all, I knew he hadn’t ripped anyone’s arm from their body or tongue from their mouth. He surfed and had perfect taste in gum flavors. That was enough for one day.
Chapter Six
If I was home alone, Jericho was perched at the door. How did he know—either Jericho or Slade—that I was alone? It was both incredibly comforting and oddly frightening. The man who had spoken less than twenty words to me seemed to know a lot about my whereabouts and that of my roommates.
More than that … he knew I needed protection.
This went on for weeks. Every day I tried to get the nerve to ask that unanswered question. Did he kill that man?
Slade went from vigilante to total enigma in a matter of a month.
“Coffee?” I stepped over his legs to sit next to him in class, something I hadn’t done since the day he threatened my tongue. “Or tea?” I eased into the chair, trying to not spill either hot drink. “I’m good with either. You just come across as a coffee person. I’ll set it by your feet. So don’t knock it over.” I placed the cup by his black-booted foot.
“No worries, Jerry. I didn’t forget about you.” I retrieved a dehydrated duck neck from the Barkery bag in the side pocket of my backpack and leaned my torso over Slade’s lap to hand it to Jericho.
His lethal glare hadn’t eased up much since our first encounter, but he managed to hold his tongue and the disturbing threats I knew sat on the end of it, waiting to intimidate me. After Jericho took the treat, I slowly lifted my chest from Slade’s legs, resting my hand on his thigh to steady myself as his gaze ensnared me in a bubble of something so intoxicating my lips had to part to find my next breath.
“You smell good,” I whispered, not meaning to say the words aloud. When his gaze shifted to my hand on his leg, I lifted it slowly in a silent “oops” as if I didn’t mean to touch him. Our eyes remained locked in place for several moments like an unbreakable trance.
And … I said it.
The words tumbled softly from my lips, yet desperately from the pit of my stomach. “Did you save me from that man?”
Slade’s lack of any sort of reaction did nothing to answer my question. And before I could press him more for an answer, the professor started to speak. Ten minutes before the end of the class, Slade made his usual early departure, but not before leaning down and snatching the coffee to take with him. It put a huge smile on my face.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my tree for my morning nap, but a dark, sexy guy and his dog were in my spot.
“I realize you’ve been off campus for a few years.” I dropped my bag on the opposite side of the tree. “But during that time, I made claim to this tree. It’s common knowledge, like the house you’re living in is haunted. However, since I kinda love Jerry, I’ll share the shade with you two.”
If Slade’s chest hadn’t been rising and falling, I would have thought he was dead. Eyes closed. Hands resting at his sides. Jericho smiled at me, and I winked at him, digging a pear out of my bag. I started to take a seat on the opposite side of the tree but feeling a little more confident than I did during our last tree encounter, I took a seat right next to Jericho and shared my pear with him.
“We’re not friends,” Slade said without so much as peeking open one eye.
I bit off a piece of my pear and fed it to Jericho, leaning over and kissing his soft, erect ear. “That’s fine. Jerry’s my friend. And he’s infinitely more awesome than any man I have ever been friends with.”
“Jericho.”
Ignoring his correction, I took several more bites from the pear and offered the rest to Jericho. “I’m from San Francisco. Where are you from? Here?”
When he ignored me—not at all surprising—I continued the conversation as though he was partaking in it. “Oh, wow! You’re from Montana. I wouldn’t have taken you for a Montana guy. You have more of a Carolinas vibe to you. I went to Asheville last summer with my friends. It’s beautiful. Siblings? Yes, I have an older sister, but she moved to France five years ago. Oh … really? You’re an only child? I can see that about you. I think it’s your poor social and conversational skills that give it away.”
The humor died quickly with his total indifference to engage in any sort of personal interaction. Even with my morbid curiosity about him living in the firehouse or staying out until the wee hours of the morning, I could have given up on Slade the asshole. However, the tiny possibility that he saved me that night or even if he just heard about it and chose to protect me through Jericho … well, it made it impossible to walk away—even if he didn’t acknowledge me.
I crawled around Jericho, nestling myself on my back between him and Slade. Staring up at the trees, I let the back of my hand brush his. “Wylder …” I whispered. “Was it you?”
He jackknifed to sitting and grabbed his bag. With the slightest of nods, he gestured for Jericho. I didn’t sit up or say another word. I didn’t try to make him stay. I closed my eyes and imagined him taking a life for me.
The problem? I had no idea why he would do that or if he did it.
*
Later that day, I knew I should stay away, but my feet automatically took me there. I couldn’t resist peeking in on Slade in his garage.
Sculptures.
He welded sculptures. That was what I’d deduced from the configurations on the floor, like a puzzle waiting to be put together. Like everything I thought I knew about Slade Wylder, it was just speculation.
He had nothing to say.
In what had become our routines since the convenience store incident, I slipped into the garage. He ignored me.
I checked my social media pages and responded to messages.
He ignored me.
Occasionally, I’d touch some of the pieces on the floor, trying to figure out what they would make. That always got his attention.
Nothing life changing. Just a pause. On a good day, he’d flip up his welder’s mask and give me a look. I’m pretty sure it said, “You’re crossing a line.” Since he didn’t say the actual words, I kept doing my thing—getting a little braver … a little more curious each time.
“It’s hot in here. And I’m going surfing with the girls. Wanna come?”
He flipped up his face shield and inspected the piece in his hands, sweat trickling down his forehead, snagging on his long eyelashes.
“Well, we’ll be leaving around four. So …” I opened the door. “You know where to find me.”
Nothing.
After closing the door, I heard Jericho bark from the house. A rare thing. I’m not sure I’d ever heard him bark. I followed my instinct—in spite of it failing me fifty percent of the time—and opened the back door to the house.
A holy-shit moment. I was going into the infamous firehouse. Not even the eighty-five-degree day could stop the goose bumps from popping up along my arms.
