Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set (55 page)

Trip instantly jumped to his feet, his gaze darting around us. “We’re in over our heads.”

I stood as my heart leapt. I’d been in over my head since I met him. “Did you say we?”

He grabbed my hand. “How fast can you run?”

“Pretty fast, I think. Why?” Another loud
snap
cracked through the air. I swallowed. Twigs broke all the time, in the middle of the night, at a cemetery, for no reason. Right?

Trip squeezed my hand, our eyes met for a split second and then we sprinted. I let him lead and ran as fast as I could, afraid someone might grab me from behind at any moment. I pumped my legs harder and harder. My lungs burned and my spine vibrated as I tried to outrun whoever might be chasing us.

Trip’s feet pounded the dirt between the rows of headstones and it was all I could do to keep up. I may get straight As academically but track held zero interest for me.

A tall old-fashioned lamp lit the parking lot and I spotted Trip’s truck next to my small red compact. My body slammed into his vehicle, the heavy metal stopping my momentum as I gasped for air. No wonder running had never been my thing. Not exactly fun. Trip dropped my hand, turned, and faced the direction we’d come from.

Wait a minute. He’d been holding my hand. My left again, but still.

Just then, Trip withdrew a gun from his holster—I hadn’t even known he was wearing one—and pointed it behind me as I fought to catch my breath.

My throat was dry and sticky as I gaped at Trip whose breath was also ragged as he focused on our surroundings. Did he know how to use that thing? “Do you think someone’s here? I mean, that noise could’ve been anything, right?”

After another moment, Trip lowered his weapon. “I don’t know. But I’m not taking any chances.” He pulled out his keys, pressed a button on his key ring, and the doors unlocked. “Get in.”

“But my car—”

“We’ll get it later.” He had a no argument tone. Not that I wanted to protest getting into a car with Trip. Maybe I could get him to feel my infinity mark again.

I slid into the passenger seat and before I could close the door all the way, he was backing out of the parking stall. I said good-bye to my little red compact, hoping that whoever might be out there would not have time to follow us.

****

I studied the empty streets as Trip sped through a yellow light. Not too many people out, although we were still in the outskirts of the city. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet.” He stepped on the gas and raced through the intersection. “I just want to get you someplace safe.”

“Safe from snapping twigs?” Not like I was in denial of the situation or anything, but it gave me the jitters knowing I was probably high on a killer’s Most Wanted List.

“This isn’t a game.”

“My dad always told me you can laugh or you can cry.” My dad. He was probably freaking out wondering where I was, which made me feel bad.

Trip stepped on the accelerator and we jammed through another intersection.

I reached behind my shoulder, pulled the safety belt down across my chest and clicked it into place. “Who do you think might be after us?”

He raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Could be someone working with Bishop and Miller.”

“Miller?” I pondered the possibility that Trip’s feelings for me might be more than just friendly. I mean, who rubs a girl’s birthmark out of concern for job performance? I pulled down the sun visor and stole a peek at myself in the small mirror. The view was not pretty. Wherever we were going . . . the dimmer the lighting the better. I flipped the visor back up and turned in my seat. “Hello? I said, who’s Miller?”

Trip’s jaw pulsed and his hands tightened on the wheel. He was silent for a moment and all I could hear was the hum of the car’s engine. He seemed to be holding his breath. “The one we arrested last night.”

Oh. That guy. I’d forgotten his name. The one who’d tried to kill me had a name. Miller. I wished I could forget
him
. My fingers flew to my neck, which was sore to the touch. “He’s in jail so it couldn’t be him at the cemetery.” I swallowed. At least he wouldn’t be able to strangle me—or stab me—anytime soon. “Will he stay there or will they let him out like they did Bishop?”

His eyes focused on the road and his teeth clenched together. “Oh, he’ll stay there. For life, if I have anything to do with it.”

“Good.” The jail thing provided some comfort, but unfortunately not enough. Bishop still roamed free and what if they had a third person working with them? During my read on Miller, I’d seen the guy in a suit and sunglasses. Maybe he’d be after me too. My head started to spin.

How could we find out what these guys were after?

My ears started buzzing, the vibrations heavy and annoying.
Lynn knows what’s going on. Ask her.

I poked my fingers in my ears to soothe the tickling. “I just got a mind message.”

Trip turned to me, his eyes wide. “From who?”

I wiggled my earlobe. “They didn’t leave a number.”

He frowned. “What’d it say?”

“If we want answers, we need to talk to Lynn.” Duh. “Miller called her by name last night.”

Trip threw me an angry look. “And you didn’t give us this information because . . . ?”

“Don’t blame me. The way you tore away from my house last night, I barely had time to say goodbye.” No, not bitter at all. Not me.

He gripped the wheel so hard, his knuckles lost their color. “What else have you failed to mention?”

“When I read Miller last night, I saw an exchange.” A sickening feeling ran through me each time I said his name. Miller. He would’ve killed me. No doubt about it. I closed my eyes. It would be so much easier to forget everything, drive off with Trip, and just start a new life. I wondered if he’d be game.

Hey, a girl can dream. Can’t she?

“Unbelievable.” Trip’s tone told me he just realized something. He pulled over at a curb downtown, checked his rearview mirror and then gave me a look that shot fire threw my belly. “Rewind. Tell me everything.”

I gulped. “Huh?”

“Miller called Lynn by name?” Trip’s eyes were slits, his voice a slow growl. I was suddenly reminded he had a gun on him.

“Um, yeah.” Was he mad at me? He sure looked mad.

His brows furrowed. “You’re absolutely certain?”

“Positive.” I wasn’t sure if I felt more scared or angry, but the adrenaline was definitely pumping now. “He demanded she tell him where the girl was.”

It was quiet a minute. “What girl?”

“I’m not sure. I’m guessing not Amanda since Lynn was holding her at the time he asked. Maybe Amanda has a twin?” I shook my head. “No, wait. It can’t be a twin. He asked Lynn if she was willing to die for someone else’s kid.”

Trip hit the steering wheel. “She didn’t say anything about this when Sam took her statement last night.”

“He took her statement?” I frowned. “Why didn’t anyone take my statement?”

Trip’s eyes clouded. “You’d been through enough. Sam stalled them by reminding them you’re a minor and should only be questioned with your father present.”

My dad’s solemn face popped into my head and my smile faded. I wondered how much he knew about Amanda, Lynn, and what they had to do with Bishop, Miller, and Dark Sunglasses Guy. He’d refused to take me to the station when I’d read Bishop because he was afraid he might be recognized. “We should talk to Lynn tonight. It can’t wait.”

“I know.” Trip’s face sobered and his eyes darkened. “Tell me about the exchange you saw with
Miller
.”

I shuddered at the way Trip said Miller—so low and angry like he was biting off the word. “There was a guy in a suit giving him a briefcase full of money. The man looked kind of familiar.”

“How?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s all you saw?”

Yes, because he’d pulled my hand away from Miller’s. “I didn’t get to finish, remember?”

“The way you shrieked . . . I couldn’t stand it.” Trip waited until I looked up at him. “How bad did it hurt?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

His eyes blazed. “And you talk about me not being honest with you?”

The memory of the searing pain burned into my brain, the dizziness that was almost too much to stand. I didn’t want to relive the feeling let alone have a discussion—just wanted the memory as far from my senses as possible.

“Forget it,” he said. Reaching over me, he flipped open his glove compartment and fished around until he pulled out a small pad of paper.

I held my arms up. “What are you doing?”

He started flipping through the pages. “Looking for Lynn’s address.”

I remembered Trip’s gun and wondered if going to Lynn’s on our own was a good idea. “Should we call Sam?”

I wasn’t going to say Collins. I’d rather go alone than have her tag along. I think. I mean, she was a full trained officer.

“I’m not calling Sam. He told me to stay off the case.” He slammed his index finger down onto the pad. “There it is. Not too far from here.”

I took the pad from him and stared at the address. “Are you sure we should go alone?”

“Look, it’s not like Sam got anything out of her last night.” He started the ignition. “Maybe if we go over there on unofficial police business . . . I don’t know. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

What he said made sense but I still felt the cold shoulder. Like I’d betrayed him by not answering his question or something. “You’re mad.”

He grabbed the gearshift and started to slide it into drive.

I put my hand over his and shoved it back into park. “It hurt like hell, okay?”

He kept his head down, focused on the stick we were both holding.

“It felt like someone stuck my arm in a fire pit.” My voice was quiet but steady as I tried to detach myself from what I’d seen. “The images were fuzzy at first, but I saw him stab me. Over and over. He wants me dead.”

He turned toward me, his eyes meeting mine. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

My eyes went straight to Trip’s holster. “Is that why you have a gun? Do you actually have training, a license and everything?”

“I’ve clocked plenty of time at the shooting range.” He turned away from me and slid the stick into drive. “We’re going to solve this, Kylie. We’ll get them. You won’t have to experience anything like that ever again. I promise.”

I fingered the pad of paper in my hands, knowing he hadn’t answered my question.

Trip looked over his left shoulder, stepped on the pedal once again, and we roared down the street.

Chapter Eleven

I stared through the front windshield and pulled my knees up to my chest as Trip cruised down 21
st
Street in downtown Sacramento. “Do you think we’re being followed?”

“No. I’ve been checking and we’re clear.” He eased off the pedal as we drove past The Bean and he moved into the left lane. “If we’re going to scrape answers out of Lynn at this time of night, I’m going to grab a cup of Joe.”

My eyes bulged. “You want a cup of who?”

“Coffee.”

“O-kaaay.” That’s just weird. The Joe thing. Not the coffee itself. Personally, I’m always up for a decaf peppermint mocha. It wouldn’t help me stay awake but caffeine just makes me jittery anyway. It’s all about the flavor.

He flipped a U-turn and squeezed into the narrow parking lot at The Bean, which was surprisingly full for ten o’clock at night. I stepped out of the car and then remembered tonight was Saturday. Yep. Saturday night. Most people were out having fun right about now. Must be cool to be them.

What was I complaining about? A hot guy was about to buy me a peppermint mocha. What could be better than that?

My footsteps slowed. Wait a minute. He hadn’t actually offered to buy my drink. He’d bought me a soda earlier at the bar but the cops had pretty much egged him into that. Should I offer to pay for my drink myself? It’s not like we were on a date and he should pay, right? Although, let’s face it, nowadays men don’t always pay on dates. Not that I’d technically been on one, but I liked to think of myself as a modern girl.

Then again, modern girl or cave girl, Trip had a part-time job at the station whereas I’m lucky to get twenty bucks from my dad each week. So, I should definitely let him treat. Right?

He held the front door open for me and I stepped into The Bean.

Holding open the door must be a sign that he’s old-fashioned. He’d probably be offended if I tried to pay for myself. Although, what kind of independent girl expects a guy to buy her a coffee drink? I should probably even offer to pay for his. Really. He was driving me around protecting me for free, so what kind of cheapo was I? My head spun. I never realized getting a mocha—or a cup of Joe or whatever—could be so stressful. How on earth do couples manage to imbibe without needing therapy after?

Not that we’re a couple.

Yet. Still working on that.

Maybe I should be more aggressive on the couple thing and speed things up between us. Then we’d work through these crazy coffee dilemmas.

A lovey dovey couple stood in front of us as we waited in line to order. I ignored their PDA and instead obsessed on which one of them would be treating. Guy or girl? I stole a glance at Trip who appeared calm. Was that because he planned to buy me a drink? Or not?

I glanced down at his hand. Maybe if I slyly slipped my right palm against his, I could do a swift read and put an end to this tortuous apprehension. It would just be a peek. Barely a look. That’s not so wrong.

“Welcome to The Bean. May I help you?” The cheerful gal behind the counter wore a brown cap with a white, coffee mug patch on the front. She seemed oblivious to the stress I was under.

“I’ll have a sixteen ounce cup of drip and—” Trip turned to me “what would you like?”

I swallowed. “I’ll have a medium decaf peppermint mocha with whipped cream.”

“Alrighty.” The girl pressed buttons on the register and smiled liked she was Miss America.

Okay, he’d put our order together. Now what? I should definitely pay. At least for mine. Maybe I’ll just hand the barista enough money for the both of us and let her decide. She worked here and looked pretty smart. Surely she knew how to deal with this kind of problem better than me.