Chapter seven #4
“He told me…” I wait for another lie to form. God, I hate this. “She died in a car crash. Maybe that was a lie. Maybe she’s a past or future victim?”
“Let’s hope she’s a living, breathing chance at forensic evidence,” Oliver supplies.
“I’ll call it in to my team,” Ryker chimes in. “See what we can find out.”
I nod. “Yes. Okay.” I shut the file. “I’m afraid other than that, I just don’t remember anything. I’ll think about it, though, and I’ll review my old records.”
“Excellent,” Ryker says, glancing at his watch. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about flying out tonight, we need to get to the airport.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agrees, “we better head out.”
“You’re leaving tonight?” We’re all on our feet when I ask that question, and I barely remember getting up.
“I have to be back in court tomorrow,” Oliver explains. “I actually chartered a plane that’s waiting for our return. I can’t believe you drove this trip. It’s not short.”
“Not all of us have a father who’s a CEO of a charter service,” I remind him, which would normally be me teasing him, but it comes out flat.
And before he can object to my response, I add, “I know you would have gotten me a plane, and it’s appreciated, but I needed the time on the road to clear my head. ”
“I get it, but I hate you being on the road alone. I have to fly out tonight, but I can come back and drive home with you, if you want.”
This man, this crazy, wonderful, amazing man and friend, keeps me from feeling alone. “Yes. When I’m ready. I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a date,” he says with a wink. “Ah, not really. You hate dates.” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I’d say I’ll call you, but you don’t answer your phone.”
“I will,” I promise apologetically, and mean it, realizing now how much I’ve missed Oliver. I desperately want to tell him everything, but this visit solidifies the realness of what is happening to me. I don’t understand it. I don’t know what it means or how it affects those around me.
I offer Ryker the file, and he accepts it.
“Thank you, Ms. Thorne.” He extends his hand to shake mine.
My heart thunders in my ears so loudly, I might as well be standing in the center of a marching band. I stare at his outstretched palm.
Take it, I tell myself. Take it and get it over with.
“Happy to help,” I manage to say and slide my palm against his.
Instant ice races up my arm and seems to wrap around my heart.
I am frozen inside and out and staring into eyes that swirl with a yellowish glow.
Seconds tick by like hours. I am back in the courtroom, time standing still, staring into Jeremy’s eyes. Only this isn’t Jeremy.
Ryker releases my hand and steps backward, leaving me gaping at him. A sly smile slides onto his lips, a clue he knows exactly what just happened, and yet…his eyes are brown again. How can his eyes be brown again? I swallow hard. Were they ever yellow?
Oliver steps between us, saving him from my hunt for venom in Ryker’s stare. He hugs me. He is warm, and his body steals the chill from my bones. I cling to him, needing him close.
“I wish I could stay,” he whispers in my ear.
“I do, too,” I whisper, and it’s true. God. I do, too.
He leans back to study me, brushing my blonde hair from my eyes with a gentle hand. He’s such a good friend. I don’t want him to leave with Ryker, but how do I stop him? “I’ll call you when I get home,” he says, and firms his voice. “Answer the phone.”
Instinct kicks in, and I shackle his arm. “Stay.”
Emotion washes over his face, warm and sensitive, so unlike the evilness in Ryker’s yellow eyes. “You know I can’t do that.”
I do. I know. I understand the importance of a court date. I do. Still, though I’ve never begged for anything in my life, I can barely contain the urge to beg him now: Please, don’t leave with Ryker. Instead, I say, “Text me when you get on the plane,” praying a public place means safety.
His left dimple kicks upward. “And here I thought you didn’t care.” He touches my cheek and walks to the door, pulling it open for Ryker.
Ryker gives me a nod, the gleam of a secret understanding between us in his gaze. “I’ll be in contact soon, Ms. Thorne.” The words hold a promise, a threat. I know it as surely as I know my own name.
Ryker heads out the door, and I slump forward, literally feeling as if some ominous weight has just been lifted from my shoulders.
Oliver hesitates behind him, brows low. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, not at all certain if it’s the truth or a lie, but I must sound convincing, because with another muttered vow to call me, Oliver leaves.
I walk to the door, shut it firmly, and turn the locks, resting my back against the wooden surface.
The yellow eyes mean nothing. I’m probably seeing things.
Or…if I’m not, maybe yellow-eyed creatures walk amongst us all the time, and Jeremy has awakened my ability to see them.
That sounds as crazy as I feel. There are no yellow-eyed creatures.
I hit my head. That’s the logical explanation.
And logic wins every time, in court and in real life, in my life.