Blacklisted (6 page)

Sometimes good people have to do bad things
. God, how many times would that play through my mind? What exactly had he meant by that?

I must have closed my eyes and drifted to sleep (bad Camille) because the next thing I knew, a cold wet rag was pressed against my cheek. Erik cleaned my face with gentle strokes, wiping away the makeup I'd spent an hour applying. His doctoring hadn't hurt like he'd said it would. He'd been as tender as a person could be.

I might never understand him.

With that thought, my mind faded back to black. I was floating. No, not floating. I was snuggled in Erik's arms, being carried back to the car. His arms were strong and comforting as the warm night air enveloped me.

He sighed, and his equally warm breath caressed my cheek. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Let's get you home.”

We didn't make it very far.

The ride began smoothly enough, and, as promised, my body did catch up with my arm and stopped throbbing completely. I was still weak, but at least I was no longer in such agonizing pain. I didn't fall back asleep, though. Couldn't. I hadn't come up with another place to go, so Erik was taking me home. Fear held me in a firm clasp as I imagined my parents' reaction when they saw me.

God, what was I going to tell them? I'd wondered before, but now that I was so close to actually seeing them…

“Can you take me to a motel?” I asked, desperation finally giving me an idea.

“Decided you don't want Mommy and Daddy to know what you've been up to?”

I didn't answer. “Would you?”

“Do you have money?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. Besides, I wouldn't feel right leaving you at a motel.”

He wouldn't feel right about it? I stiffened, but I didn't point out all the crappy things he
did
feel right about.

Seeing my renewed tension, he asked, “You doing okay?” His gaze brushed over me as surely as a caress.

I shivered—and the shiver pissed me off. Damn it. I had to stop reacting to him. Bad boys and their lives of crime weren't for me.

“Camille?”

“I'm fine.”

He sighed. “No, you're not. I can hear the anger in your voice. Just tell your parents that you fell at your friend's house, you decided to come home, and she brought you. Simplicity always works best when you're lying.”

Knowing my dad, he might try to sue my made-up friend to pay for damages.

“Whatever you do,” Erik continued, “don't mention the club. And don't mention gunfights.”

“I'm not a total idiot.”

“Well…”

“Not all the time,” I snapped.

He chuckled. “You're cute when you're mad.”

Just a few hours ago, that comment would have sent me into a tailspin of euphoria. Now it—sent me into a tailspin of euphoria, I realized. It shouldn't have, but there it was. I couldn't hold back a grin.

The hottest boy at school thought I was cute.

You
are
an idiot
. “How are you going to get home?” I asked when I found my voice, the dilemma just then occurring to me. “You can't keep Shanel's car.”

“I know. Didn't plan to, since your friend could have already reported it as stolen and I'm eager to get rid of it.”

Shanel was with Silver. She'd probably forgotten all about the car. Still. Better safe than sorry. I did not need the police looking for me, and I did not need one more supposed crime hanging over my head. “Let's call her and double check.”

Without a word, Erik reached in his pocket and withdrew a small, black cell unit. He handed it to me. I dialed Shanel's number, but she never answered. I tried again. Still nothing. I didn't leave a message on her voicemail because I didn't want her parents overhearing.

I handed the phone back to Erik. I'd call her again in the morning, tell her that I had the car, and then meet her somewhere and give it back. Although, how I'd explain that to my parents, I didn't know.

“You never answered my question,” I said to Erik. “How are you going to get home?”

“I'll walk,” was his unconcerned response.

“Uh, that's going to be quite a hike.”

“I know, but the exercise will do me some good.”

He didn't need any more exercise. He was already stacked with muscle, his tanned skin stretched tight over hard steel. “You told me you were twenty years old,” I said, peering at him through the thick shield of my lashes.

“Yeah. So?”

With the pain gone, my brain kicked into gear. “How'd you manage to get back into school? I'm pretty sure I know why, I just can't figure out how.”

He shrugged, the action stiff. The line of his jaw ticked. In anger? In irritation? Both? “The more you know about me, Camille, the more danger you'll be placed in. Stop asking questions.”

Danger. Just the word sent my nervous system into a frenzy. Heated blood rushed through my veins and caused all of my pulse points to flutter erratically. “Is that guy with the half-mask going to come after me?”

Erik paused long enough to make me squirm. Then he said, “No. I'll make sure he doesn't.”

He sounded confident.

My eyes widened in horror. “Are you going to murder him?” That was the only way to give me a hundred-percent guarantee.

“No, I'm not going to murder him. Just shut up and trust me, all right.”

That pacified me somewhat, but could I place my trust in someone who ignored the law and sold drugs? Someone who willingly peddled death to humans? Foolishly, I wanted to. Maybe because I was having a hard time reconciling the truth of what Erik was with the fantasy I'd built in my mind.

If he hadn't doctored me so well tonight, I
could
have written him off completely. Maybe.

“You can't seriously expect me to trust you, Erik.” I only wished I meant the words wholeheartedly. “How do you know that man isn't going to come after me?”

“Camille.” He sighed.

“Erik. I need to know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you always this curious?”

“When it involves my life, yes.”

“As you probably guessed, I'm working for him. He needs me and he knows it, so he won't want to piss me off.”

I gazed down at my boots. Droplets of blood had dried on the tips. “And hurting me will piss you off?”

A pause, another sigh. “Yeah.”

For some reason, that soothed me as I'd needed and I lapsed into silence. And, God help me, I liked, really liked, that Erik was willing to fight for me.
For your life, dummy. Not your affections. He probably doesn't want your death on his conscience—or his record
.

We passed the towering gate that surrounded my neighborhood. The houses that next came into view were medium-size, average really, but well-maintained. Made of polished silver rocks with tin rooftops, they were nearly identical. I'd lived here my entire life, and the familiarity was both comforting and terrifying.

“Uh, Camille,” Erik said suddenly.

The hard catch in his voice was like a punch in the stomach, jarring, painful. Oh no. “What?”

“We're being followed.”

“What!”

“Look behind us.”

I twisted in my seat and peered out the back window. There were two black sedans lined up inches from our bumper, not even trying to remain hidden. Their windows were so dark I couldn't see inside. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think?

A.I.R.? I swallowed the hard lump that formed in my throat. “Lose them,” I said, the instinct to remain removed from the situation speaking for me.
Please lose them
. I didn't want to be caught with Erik.

If he'd been telling the truth earlier, that would only incriminate me further. Plus, I didn't want A.I.R. escorting me home. I'd never be able to lie my way out of that.

“Why aren't you losing them?” I demanded when Erik didn't reprogram the car's destination.

“Here, let me just snap my fingers. I'll produce the cast of
Alien Nights
, too.”

I ground my teeth together.

“They've been on our trail since we left my house,” he added.

“Did they see me get into the car with you?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Oh God.” Stomach cramp. Not only had they seen me at the club with Erik, they'd seen me at his house. And I'd been willing.
Think, Robins. Think
.

Okay. Maybe trying to lose them wasn't the best plan of action. That would only make me appear guiltier. Maybe I should just get out, walk up to them, and explain what had happened. Maybe they'd let me go without needing to speak to my parents. Maybe my worries were for nothing.

According to Erik, A.I.R. fought to protect innocent humans. I was innocent. But also according to Erik, A.I.R. would beat me up first and ask questions later. Well, what's it going to be?

“I—I'm going to talk to them.”

“I can't let you do that,” Erik said. “No telling what you'll admit to doing.”

“But—but—”

He commanded the car to stop. Tires squealed, and I strained against my seat belt.

“Erik! What—”

“Shit,” he growled.

A black sedan had come out of nowhere, blocking our forward path. We couldn't advance and we couldn't reverse. They had us pinned in.

“Just let me out,” I said. “They'll be reasonable about this. They just have to be.”

“They won't listen to a damn thing you say.” Motions clipped, Erik punched a series of buttons on the console keyboard. The lights dimmed, and a gear shift I think it was called, rose from the space between us. Panels opened in a wide circle and a steering wheel appeared. Pedals even lifted from the floorboard.

I'd seen this happen on TV, but never in real life. Fear gripped me. “What are you doing?” I managed to get out.

“Overriding the computer system and driving manually.”

“You can do that?” Duh. He just had.

“Just hold on to your seat. It's gonna get bumpy.” Without another word, he jammed the gear backward and the car speed into reverse.
Crrrunch
.

I yelped. Metal ground against metal as we crashed into one of the sedans, then Erik moved the gear forward, turning the wheel, turning, turning.

We hit another car.

He slammed his foot into one of the petals. My entire body flew toward the windshield as we sped away from our tails and onto a side road. Thankfully my seat belt pulled me back.

The other cars, of course, followed us. Their tires screeched, burning rubber and wafting smoke in every direction.

Fear raced through me, stronger than ever before. Stronger, even, than when I'd been surrounded by aliens, Lancers pointed at my chest. Not only was I in danger now, but innocent people were, as well. Anyone taking a nighttime stroll…I clutched my stomach to ward off another cramp.

“Erik. You have to stop this.”

“Can't.”

“Please.”

“What I do is too important. I can't be locked up.”

“
What
do you do?” I asked, nearing hysteria. “Helping humans kill themselves isn't important.”

His lips drew together in a thin line.

“What if we're wrong and those drivers aren't with A.I.R.?” I asked sharply. I squeezed my eyes shut when we ran over a recycling bin and jumped a curb.
My God, who art in heaven
.

“They're A.I.R.”

Tires squealed as our car jacked a swift left turn.
Hallowed be thy name
. Or was it “hollowed”? “How. Do. You. Know. That? For sure?”

“Call it a hunch,” he said dryly.

Breathe, Camille. Just breathe
. In. Out. Slowly. Slowly. Okay, I could handle this. I wasn't in the midst of a car chase. I was at the beach, a cool breeze billowing around me. Sun rays were soaking into my skin and saltwater was brushing against my toes.

Tires squealed again, ruining the fantasy. We executed a swift right turn and I was flung into the door.

Any more, and I'd throw up.

“There's got to be a better way, Erik.”

“I'm open to suggestions.”

If only I had one. He hit a bump and my nausea intensified. Motion sickness—maybe. Another injection of pure fear—probably.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded.

“They
are
closed!”

In the next instant, I was lifted out of my seat. My head skimmed the roof. And I knew what had happened: we'd gone airborne. Erik whooped excitedly. I commanded my window to open, leaned over, and emptied out the contents of my stomach, jerking with the force of the action. My ribs ached and my back tightened even after I'd slumped back in my seat.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Oh. My. God. I'd just thrown up in front of Erik Troy. At least I hadn't done it on the floorboards, so we didn't have to smell it. Still. Could I be any more disgusting? No time to ponder that now. The car landed, and it landed hard.
Boing. Thud
. My throat constricted, cutting off my airway. A wave of dizziness swept through me.

Left, right, left, we turned. “You okay?” Erik asked.