Locket full of Secrets (8 page)

              The first sound I could register was a Back Street Boys song on the radio. It played on every station regularly, so I found my brain supplying the lyrics while my body tried to figure out what to do next. I could feel motion under me, hinting I was still in the car. As if to prove my theory, the car traveled over a bump, the jarring motion eliciting a moan from my throat.

              “Claire?” a deep voice asked beside me.

              Slowly opening my eyes I took in the sights around me. It was pitch black outside, with no other headlights on the road. Turning to my right I could just make out Steven next to me, a concerned look on his face.

              “How are you feeling?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

              “Where are we?” I managed, my throat dry and scratchy. I sat up slowly, my whole body protesting the simple movement.

              “We’re almost to your house,” Steven explained as he handed me a bottle of water.

              Taking the bottle from his hand I drank quickly, not stopping until the bottle was empty. I could feel each beat of my heart pulsing in my head, a pain just slightly greater than the throbbing in my right arm. Handing the empty bottle back to Steven I looked at my arm, now covered in white gauze spotted with blood that had soaked through.

              “Olena stopped?” I asked, trying to piece together the moments before I lost consciousness.

              “Yeah, we stopped once we got a ways down the road.” He paused. “That’s where we got the new car.”

              Looking around I suddenly noticed the leather seat I was on, the raised ceiling, and the fact that we were higher off the road. What was most shocking was knowing that I was transferred from one vehicle to another without waking up. It seemed odd, but I didn’t worry about it too much.

              “Did they ask a lot of questions?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

              “Who?” Steven asked. He was leaning down, digging in a bag on the floor.

              “The people we bought the car from,” I added, graciously taking the granola bars Steven held out for me.

              “Well,” he paused, not making eye contact with me. “She kind of stole it.”

              “What?” I asked, louder than I intended, before turning to Olena. “You stole a car?”

              “I had do,” she explained calmly. “The last car was damaged from the bullets, and if the police got word of the shootout they would be looking for us.”

              Knowing there was no use in fighting her at this point I leaned back in my seat and began snacking on my granola bar. I finished it in a few bites, clearly a lot more hungry than I realized.

              “I tried to stop her,” Steven whispered, leaning closer to me. “But stopping to switch cars meant getting a first aid kit to take care of you.”

              “How bad was it?” I asked, motioning to my arm.

              “There was some glass still in your arm,” he winced, clearly not a good memory. “But it was easy to stop the blood once we had something better than my sweater on it.”

              “It still hurts like hell,” I mumbled, moving it slightly to see how my range of motion was holding up. “But not like before. Thanks.”

              “Of course,” he smiled. “I told you I would take care of you.”

              “You did,” I said, turning in my seat to face him completely. “Thanks to you I wasn’t standing there when the bullet hit the clerk. I froze, but you did what you had to in order to keep me safe.”

              Reaching out to take his hand I watched as his face contorted in pain. Looking down I saw the cause. His left palm was wrapped in gauze, covering what was sure to be a nasty wound based on the blood staining the fabric.

              “What happened?” I asked, lifting his hand and cradling it in both of mine.

              “When I landed on you my hand found some glass,” he shrugged. “It’s not too bad, just in an inconvenient spot. It was worth it to protect you.”

              Placing my hand on his cheek I looked him in the eyes, for a moment forgetting Olena was in the car with us.

              “Thank you,” I whispered, my words meant only for him. Before he could reply I leaned in, our lips pressing together. Heat instantly flooded my body as our lips lingered on each other’s for a moment longer.

              A sudden stopping of the car pulled us apart and reminded me where we were. My cheeks flushed as I looked out the windshield to see a familiar view. We were down the block from my house.

              “We have to walk from here,” Olena commented, exiting the car and slamming the door.

              “Let’s go,” Steven laughed lightly, as he opened the door and slid out before offering me his hand. The lack of light made it hard to be sure, but it looked as though his cheeks were also flushed from our moment.

              “Alright,” Olena whispered, as we walked towards my house on the deserted road. “Go in and grab it, then get out of there as quickly as possible.”

              “That might be a problem,” I admitted, not sure why I did not tell Olena the location of the necklace sooner.

              “Why would it be a problem?” she asked, pausing our progress under a large maple tree.

              “After everything happened I kind of threw it,” I explained without making eye contact. “And I think it fell into the heating vent.”

“That’s why I didn’t find it,” Olena mumbled before adding a few words that I assumed were not Russian compliments.

“What?” I asked, confused by more than her choice of foreign words.

              “Never mind,” Olena breathed after a moment. “We will just get in there and take a look. If it’s in the heating vent we should be able to reach it.”

              With a nod we began our progress towards my house once again. It was just after one in the morning, and the full moon overhead was enough to light our path in the absence of streetlights. In just a few second we reached my back door, the hide-a-key still in place under the flower pot on the second step.

              “We need to be really quiet, but still move fast,” Olena whispered the reminder before I slowly opened the door.

              Sneaking into the kitchen, we closed the door softly before walking down the hallway and into the living room. I tried not to focus on how much I missed home as we headed down the hallway to my room. My parent’s room was thankfully at the end of the hall, the door currently closed. Slipping into my room, we eased the door shut before Olena pulled out a small flashlight and shone it around the room.

              Walking over to the vent, I held my breath as Olena kneeled down and used her flashlight to get a better view. I could just make out the necklace at the bottom of the vent. It was only a few inches below the grate. Trying each of the screws with my fingertips, I was met with resistance. They all were held tightly in place.

              “Here, let me try,” Olena whispered, holding up a Swiss army knife.

              Stepping back I silently watched Olena remove the screws. She worked quickly but quietly, setting each screw aside on the hardwood before moving on to the next. Finally, after they were all stacked together, she used the knife blade to pry the grate off before reaching down for the necklace.

              “Okay, can we go now?” I asked as Olena slipped the necklace over her head.

              “Wait,” Olena replied, before putting the grate and each screw back in place. “In case they look in your room we do not want to leave proof we were here.”

              Turning around I headed towards the door and back down the hallway. I moved much faster than on the way in, now more worried about getting caught so close to freedom. As we stepped onto the back porch I replaced the key before following after Olena, who had taken off at a jog. Clearly I was not the only one with frayed nerves after sneaking through my house. We moved in silence all the way back to our vehicle, climbing in before anyone had the nerve to speak.

              “You got it?” Steven asked when we reached the car. I nodded, too out of breath for a real answer. In response Steven wrapped his arms around me and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Good job.”

              “Alright,” Olena turned to us with a serious look on her face. “Time to head to the airport.”

              “What?” I asked, my mouth actually hanging open in shock.

              “You guys are not safe here. You have to come with me,” Olena explained, starting the car and driving slowly through my neighborhood.

              “But,” I paused, trying to figure out what was going on. “You have the necklace now, why can’t we go?”

              “That guy that shot at us back there has lots of friends that are going to be looking for all three of us now,” Olena quickly summarized our situation. “If I leave you here then they will find you and kill you too.”

              Not sure what else to do, I turned to face Steven for backup. His jaw was set firmly, both his teeth and fists clenched.

              “So that’s it?” he asked, finally breaking his silence. “We just keep going, and hope it’s safer than staying here?”

              “Yes,” she said simply. Thinking better of it, she pulled the car over and turned to face me. “Claire, I know you do not want to be involved in this, and I am sorry for dragging you into it all. But right now, the only way I can keep you safe is by keeping you with me.”

              Taking a moment to breathe, I considered her words. It was true, she had saved me twice now. First in Perkins by leading that Alexi guy to the bathroom, and then again at the gas station by shooting yet another would be killer. If the men after her knew we were at my house or even back at school they could come after us. Or worse, come after my parents. With a sigh, I knew what decision I needed to make.

              “Okay, but can I at least drive?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’m the only one who has gotten any sleep, so it might help us make better time to have a fresh driver.”

              When Olena nodded in agreement, I hopped out of the car and traded seats with her. Sliding behind the wheel, I adjusted the mirrors and moved the seat forward. Steven used the time to also exit the car and move to sit with me up front. Apparently sitting next to Olena was not in his plan for this road trip.

              “We have to go to New York,” Olena commented as I pulled back onto the road.