Chapter 2
Kitt
There’s nowhere to go. The ditch I’m in is shallow. Low grass surrounds me.
“All I can do is lie down.”
It goes against all my instincts, my gut screaming at me to run as fast as I can back to the dorm. Instead, I move lower, to the lowest part of the ditch, and lie down on my back, staring up at the starlit sky.
If this were any other moment, I’d smile, taking in the brilliance of the galaxy here at the end of the world, no city lights to dim their sparkle.
Instead, I feel the prickle of sweat over my skin, the coat too hot, my feet sweltering in my boots. My heart races, the sound of blood whooshing through my veins overriding the rumbling truck engine, purring louder as it barrels toward me.
“Please, God, pass me. For the love of all the cod in the world, drive right by.” My whispers are lost in the wind.
Every muscle in my body tightens as the truck grows nearer. I close my eyes tight. I listen as it slows. “No. No. Don’t slow down, speed up.”
The truck doesn’t stop, thank God, but it slows to a crawl. I’m holding my breath, my head light, my stomach burning like I could pass out or throw up.
I do neither.
And the truck passes me, driving on into the night.
“Oh, thank God! Thank God!” I inhale a long draw of breath. Bending at the waist, I sit up, my hand going to cover my racing heart, as I try to take normal-sized breaths.
That’s when I hear the truck stop. Click into reverse. And start to double back.
“Shit!” I lie back down, the back of my head hitting the ground too hard in my haste. “Ouch.”
The truck moves slowly, heading toward me. It stops. I lean up, elbows resting on the higher edge of the ditch I’m hiding in, so I can see better.
The door of the truck slowly opens. I watch, my tongue like lead in my dry mouth. No whispered words come now. I watch as the driver steps down from the truck. He says something to the others. I don’t catch the words, but I hear enough to guess it’s directions for the other man to stay put.
My heart, now a bass drum, deafens me as he closes the driver’s door. The steering wheel is on the wrong side for Scotland. An American truck. He wears something slightly different from the other man I saw earlier, jeans and a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up over the top of his head. Heavy work boots on his feet.
He shoves his hands deep into his jeans’ pockets and with a slow, deliberate walk, heads right toward me.
Each step is controlled, calculated as he nears.
Shit. Shit. Double shit. What do I do? Run? No way. Judging by his build, he’d quickly take me over. Tackle me to the ground. Squash me.
All I can do is flatten myself against the ground, lie here, try to remember to breathe, and not pee my pants.
Finally, the heavy footsteps stop. “I know you’re there.”
His accent is thick, deeper than the other interns. “Lying in the grass. I saw you from the building, crouched down.”
Do I speak? Answer him? Beg for mercy?
My tongue swollen, my mouth filled with sawdust, I do nothing.
He moves closer. “Judging by your frame, I’d say you’re a young woman. There’s nothing around here but hills and sheep. If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say you’re one of the wee lasses that works for the fisheries. Stay where you are. My friends don’t know you’re here. Only me. And I never want to hurt a woman.”
His words and tone don’t match, the sound of his gravelly voice so threatening, chills of ice trip all the way down my spine. He may not want to hurt me but he’s more than willing to hurt me if he must.
He’s so close now, he’s standing on the road only a few feet from me. I can see his face. All angles and shadows. A dark beard cut close to his face.
He moves closer.
Can’t breathe.
He’s right by my side now, just at the top of the ditch where the upper curve levels out. Bending at the knee, he crouches down, balancing on the heels of his boots. He pushes the hood back from his face.
His eyes, a piercing blue, lock onto mine. “Who are you?”
“You’re right. What you said…I’m just a girl from the research center?—”
“American?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just here for the summer. Then I’ll be gone. Only here for a few months. Weeks, really, if you?—”
“Shut up.”
“K.” My hand goes to cover my mouth. “Oops. I mean…”
For the love of God, Kitt. SHUT. UP.
He almost smiles, the corner of his perfectly formed lips tilting upward ever so slightly. The break in his hard face gives me tiny butterfly wings of hope, fluttering in my belly. He might let me go.
“Now tell me, lassie. You’re not looking for any trouble, are ye?”
“No—” His stern gaze hits me. I shut up, shake my head, vigorously, so he gets the point. No.
“Good. Seeing as you’re a girl, such a pretty one at that?—”
Me? Pretty?
“And seeing as you’re not from around here, I think I can make an exception. For you. American girl. This one time. As long as you can keep your mouth shut.”
“Oh, thank God! I—of course I can!”
I think of the flames licking at the side of the building and realize the longer we’re here, the longer it will take me to call the police, and the more damage will happen to the research center. I need to make him leave. “You go on and I’ll be on my way. Mouth shut.” I zip my lips.
“You talk a lot.” He cups his chin, running his hand over his beard as he stares out over the ocean for a moment. He turns his tractor-beam blue eyes back onto me. “How can I be sure you won’t talk about this?”
I lie there on my back, looking up at him from the ditch. My hands move as I speak. “Do I chatter a bit too much when I get nervous? Sure. Am I a snitch? Absolutely not. I mean, we’re only talking about a little property damage.” Property damage that seriously needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW. “Nothing that needs reporting.”
He stands, his head turning toward the truck. Seeing no movement, he takes a few steps, closing in on me. I feel like my heart bangs against my chest each time his boot sole lands on the ground.
When he’s only a foot from me, he crouches down again, bending his knees, resting on his haunches. He reaches out to touch my face.
It takes every ounce of bravery in my body to not flinch away as he cups my chin in his hand.
He shakes his head, the corner of those perfect lips tilting to one side. He just stares at me a moment, holding my trembling face, his skin warm and rough from working.
“No, sweetheart. What you witnessed.” His blue eyes pierce mine. “Was much worse.”