Liar (7 page)

Gaia gently extricated herself from his grip. For the briefest instant he felt an electric tingle as her flesh touched his. But it faded the instant their gazes locked.

“Are you sure you're okay?” she demanded.

The two of them paused on the opposite corner. Sam couldn't keep his eyes from flitting back toward Broadway. He had a clean view of all of Waverly Place, and it was now completely empty. He breathed a secret sigh of relief. Maybe she'd given up and gone on to stalk some
other
college-age chump.

“There's something you aren't telling me,” Gaia stated.

Sam's gaze flashed back to her. Now his pulse was in overdrive. He took a deep breath, suddenly acutely aware of the ticking seconds, of the freezing cold, of every sensation … then he realized something. Something inane, actually. The right-front pocket of his jeans was empty. He slapped at it—but there was nothing there. His wallet.
Jesus.
In all his freaking out about Gaia, he'd left his wallet back in his dorm room.

“Actually, there is,” he blurted out. “I just realized I don't have my wallet. Wait here, okay? I'll be right back.”

Gaia's jaw dropped. She looked pissed. “Wait here? But …”

Before she could finish, he whirled and dashed up University Place toward Eleventh Street.
The rat was on the run again.
Procrastination, memory loss, and chickening out came in pretty handy sometimes.

WELL. THERE WAS NO LONGER ANY doubt at all in Gaia's mind. This was definitely
not
a date. A guy just didn't bolt from a girl and leave her standing in the freezing cold if he was taking her out. She scowled and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, trying to keep warm. Why didn't he just ask her to come with him? What was he so
scared
of, anyway? Gaia used to think that she'd never wish the fearlessness gene on anyone—even her worst enemy—but now she took it back. She would have happily loaned it to Sam for a few seconds at least, so he'd just spit out whatever he had to say and be done with it.

She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced into the park. A peculiar numbness tugged at her stomach. Asking her to meet him
here
was a pretty thoughtless decision, too. The memories associated with Washington Square Park didn't exactly fill Gaia with the warm fuzzies. Mary had been shot here less than two weeks ago. People got killed here all the time, in fact. Or so it seemed.

The danger was what she used to love about this place … the feeling that anything could happen at any time. Now the uncertainty just made her depressed.
The park was a monument to human filth, to people's worst impulses: to the desire to kill, to rape, to hustle, to poison one another's bodies with drugs.

Her gaze roved over the barren tree limbs, over the rusted iron fences and frozen lawns. What
was
it about this place that drew people here, anyway? It was a dump. But even now—even at night in the freezing cold—people were hanging out. Three burly guys in leather jackets were walking out of the shadows right now, in fact. Gaia sneered. Maybe they were some of Skizz's old clients, looking to score some coke. Maybe they hadn't heard the news yet. Well. Gaia could perform a public service and tell them that Skizz was out of commission. Permanently.

Wait a second.

The three guys were walking right toward her. They slowed as they drew closer.

Gaia's eyes narrowed.

They were staring at her.

No doubt about it. Three pairs of hard eyes were fixed on her own. A burst of warmth suddenly shot through her limbs, as if an electric light had been turned on inside her. She felt no fear, of course—but she did feel curiosity. And readiness. Who were these guys? They didn't look like druggies. No … their bodies were too thick, too healthy. They looked more like cops. Or security guards. And their faces
were oddly unremarkable. None of them had any striking or distinguishing features. They could have been brothers, triplets—born to an utterly nondescript family….

She drew in her breath.

They stopped right in front of her.

Now,
this
was strange.

None of them moved. Okay. It was more than strange—it was highly surreal. What the hell did they want? They didn't look menacing, or threatening … or anything. Their expressions were utterly dead. She felt like she was standing in front of a semicircle of three statues.

“Uh … can I help you with something?” she asked, very calmly.

The one in the middle nodded. “Yes,” he said in a toneless voice. “As a matter of fact, you can.”

IT'S A GODDAMNED FRIDAY NIGHT,
Ella thought, furiously slurping a double latte. She shifted on the hard Starbucks stool and glared through the huge window at the
Broadway street scene. So many hip young passersby. So many couples. All looking so smug and content. And why not? They were all on their way to someplace exciting, someplace to let loose. Yet here
she
was—bored beyond belief.

It's a goddamned Friday night, and I'm wasting it by following some psycho teenage girl around.

It had to be freezing cold, too. Her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Even the warmth of the coffee cup did little to soothe them. Her hands were red and chapped and … ugly.
Her
hands. She'd probably catch hypothermia. Her winter wear wasn't designed for long-term exposure to the elements. No, it was designed for style, to make her look good during those brief moments when she was caught outside. When she was hailing a cab, for instance. Or when she stepped from a cab into a party or club.

But then, when was the last time she had
been
to a party or club?

Not in years.
Years!
She took another sip of the coffee, burning her tongue. Her eyes smoldered. She was young; she was beautiful—and time was slipping away. She wouldn't be young and beautiful forever. Why couldn't Loki make whatever move he was planning to make and put an end to all this nonsense?

She deserved a
medal
for her patience. For putting
up with George … that sniveling, pathetic wimp. For following Loki's every command. Most of all, for living with Gaia Moore. For not
killing
Gaia Moore.

Her fingers tightened around the paper cup. As much as Loki enraged her, she couldn't control her feelings. Even now her body ached to be next to his. To feel his breath on her neck. To lose herself in that powerful embrace. To be … complete. But if Loki wouldn't accommodate her, then she'd just have to find somebody else to satisfy those needs. Just in the interim.

A secret smile crossed her lips.

You don't exactly hate it, do you, Ella?

No. She didn't. She loved it. And a woman needed her diversions. Abruptly she tossed the half-finished latte into the garbage and stood. She'd had just about enough of following Gaia around for the night. Besides, the freak was headed for the park—to play chess with those ridiculous characters, or to vandalize the place, or to do whatever the hell it was she did there. Frankly, Ella didn't care. Loki was wasting both her time
and
his by forcing her to keep an eye on Gaia.

But what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Because now Ella was going to have a little fun. Oh, yes. She smiled again as she fished her cell phone out of her pocket and left the coffee shop.

GAIA BURST OUT LAUGHING AS THE middle guy stepped forward and threw a punch straight at her face. She couldn't help it. It was just so
absurd.
Every single time she walked into this park, somebody tried to pick a fight with her. Every single time. What were the odds of that? Seven zillion to one? True, she sometimes went
looking
for fights. But why did fights naturally look for her?

The fist whizzed with an inch of Gaia's face as she stepped back.

Too slow, asshole.

She spun and crouched into a kung fu stance, sizing up each of them. If they wanted to get their asses kicked, fine. It would be her pleasure. A strange combination of weariness and adrenaline coursed through her veins. What a drag. She really didn't want to have to go through this tonight.
Really.

Luckily, the laughter seemed to catch the three morons off guard. That gave her an immediate advantage. No time to waste. Middle Guy was still leaning off balance from the missed connection. She lashed out and kicked him in the kneecap.

“Ahh!”
he screamed. He dropped from her field of vision.

Her gaze immediately shifted to Left Guy. He was crouched in a kung fu stance, just like hers. He might be a more capable opponent. Better save him for last. Middle Guy writhed on the pavement. Gaia's eyes flashed to Right Guy. He was coming straight at her, throwing a punch with his left arm.
Can't you do better than that?
she wondered, laughing again. It was another telegraphed strike, easy to deflect. She shifted to the right and grabbed the guy's arm, simultaneously kicking his shin with a swift toe strike. The force of his own momentum instantly flipped him in midair.

“No—”

His skull struck the pavement first—hitting with a sickening
thwok
—and he rolled over with a groan.

Two down.

All of Gaia's nerves were tingling as she turned her attention to Left Guy. Her entire body was burning, pulsing, on fire with the heat of combat. She forced herself to laugh once more, just to instill fear in him. Fear was the greatest weapon. But his face was a blank mask. Oh, well. He'd be scared of her soon enough.

And hopefully by the time she'd finished him off, Sam would have found his freaking wallet.

“COME ON, COME ON,” SAM GRUNTED under his breath.

He whirled around his closet-size dorm room, flinging papers and books and clothing everywhere—but he still couldn't find it. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily. This method of searching was no good. He was just making it harder on himself. His room looked like a blast zone. But he had left it here, hadn't he? He had been positive it would be sitting right on top of his desk….

Pockets. Right. He had to check all of his pockets.

With one eye still scanning the mess, he snatched a pair of jeans from the floor and tore through them. Nope. His breathing quickened. He tossed the pair aside.
This is bad; this is bad….
Gaia was probably getting more pissed by the second. He tossed the jeans aside and grabbed another pair. Not in there, either. Well, at the very least he could console himself with knowing that no matter how pissed she got now, it would be nothing compared to how pissed she'd be later-

The phone rang.

He swallowed. That was probably her, calling to tell him to forget about dinner and to go screw himself.
He dropped the second pair of jeans and lunged for the phone, nearly tripping over a mountain of laundry.

“Hello?” he gasped.

“Hey, there,” a sultry voice whispered.

Ella.
The blood drained from his face. His hands went clammy. “What the hell do you want?” he hissed.

“What's wrong, baby?” she murmured in a whiny, little-girl voice. It filled him with revulsion. “I was hoping I could drop by to talk to you—”

“Don't call me
‘baby,'”
he snapped. “I'm not your baby.”

There was a pause. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“You are!” he shouted. His face reddened. “Can't you just
leave me alone!”

She giggled. “I love it when young men get angry. It's such a turn-on.”

Sam blinked. He couldn't believe this. Talking to her was like talking to an alien. “What do you
want,
Ella?”

“I want
you”
she whispered.

“Well, that's not going to happen.” He forced himself to take a deep breath to try to maintain some semblance of control. “But you know … actually, it's a good thing you called. Because now I can tell you what I came by to tell you today. I never, ever want to see you again.”

Ella clucked her tongue. “I don't believe you,” she stated.

His eyes widened. Incredible. Maybe she
was
an alien. “Well,
start
believing,” he growled. “Because I'm sick of this. I don't want your calls. I don't want your e-mail. I don't want to hear your name or even
think
about you—”

“Why?” she interrupted. “Because of Gaia?”

Hot pain stabbed into his chest. “Leave her out of this,” he warned.

Ella chuckled. “You know, I don't think that's such a good idea anymore. I think she should be in on everything. It's only fair—”

“If you tell her anything, I'll kill you,” he whispered between tightly clenched teeth. A red haze filled his brain. His voice quavered. He gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned bone white. “I mean it.”

“No, you—”

He slammed the phone down on the hook. All at once he felt psychotic, out of control. His breath came fast. He was practically hyperventilating. Maybe he should just go find her. Maybe he should just get a knife, or a gun, or
something
—and shut her up for good. But even as these twisted thoughts swirled through his brain, he knew what he had to do. He had to get back to Gaia. Wallet or no wallet, he had to talk to her.

Before Ella did.

PUNCH. BLOCK. KICK.

“Hai!”

Gaia withdrew again. Puffs of frozen breath filled the air around her, but she was no longer cold. Her brain hummed, but her body was a cool stone. Once more she and the guy circled each other—hands up, eyes locked, legs bent. This was by far the strangest fight she'd ever been in. It should have been over by now. The other two guys had already dragged themselves away and disappeared into the night. And it wasn't even really like
fighting.
It was more like … well, like sparring. Like a practice duel. Like what she and her father used to do for hours on end in her old backyard …