Chapter 2
Ryan
She is dressed in white tonight. Pure. My thoughts about her are anything but that.
She enters the room with her back toward me, extending her arm to switch on the light.
But as if sensing me, she jerks her head in my direction.
A gasp leaves her plump cherry-colored lips, her big brown eyes widen in disbelief as our gaze collide.
Before she can scream bloody murder, my hand clamps on her mouth while my body jams the door shut.
Okay so I didn’t think this through while I was having a bad Romeo moment back there. This girl is definitely not letting me escape without a fight.
Her muffled screams are loud enough to cause trouble. She fights me pouring every ounce of her strength and struggling in my grip.
I can’t let her distract me now. The weight of evidence against Bolton is sitting against my skin. I cannot risk getting caught before I know what’s on that USB stick.
Twisting her around so that her back is to my front, I pull her flush to my chest. Then I bring the blade of my knife to her throat.
“Shh!” I whisper, my lips touching the shell of her ear.
Her squirming body goes still when her eyes spot the blade pointed at her, so close to her face.
I didn’t want to do this. She is just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Shouldn’t you be home where it is nice and safe? Didn’t anyone tell you to not wander the corridors alone in the dark?”
I watch the beads of sweat form on the side of the slender neck and feel a shiver run down her body. She is still in my arms, and fuck, she is afraid of me.
Fuck! This good girl is terrified of me. And there is nothing I can do to rectify that.
I should just leave her alone and get out of here. I twirl her body around and push her back to the wall next to the door and face her; the blade to her throat. “Not a sound,” I warn.
She hisses like a cobra, her eyes wild. I let her fight for a minute because this stolen moment is mine. Her determination is that of a warrior.
When I remove my hand covering her mouth, she spits out, “You’ll go to jail. There are cameras everywhere. Put the stuff you took back and no one gets hurts.”
I bark out a laugh as I bring the flat end of my knife to her lips, pressing it down on her gorgeous mouth. “Shh! You’re no way in a place to threaten me, Princess.”
My hand holds the knife, pulling it down over her lips.
My eyes drink her in as her bottom lip gets tugged down, showing me her white teeth in the process as I drag the knife lower from her mouth to her chin, the pointed end pausing on the tip of her chin for a second.
Her plump lower lip bounces back as the blade releases her mouth, but her lips remain parted and quivering under my gaze.
When the blade glides over to her long delicate neck reaching the Plender gap, which is the dip in the neck, I still my blade.
She gulps in air audibly and the muscles in her throat move. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ll call the cops.”
“Is that so? What exactly do you plan to tell? That I know where you live. I know what scares you. You remember who I am, don’t you?
I’m the bad boy your mama warned you about.
What would happen if your daddy’s country club friends came to find out that a good girl like you was in a lonely dark room, caged in the arms of someone like me. ”
Her eyes drop to my mouth for a blink as she sucks in a breath. Then in a small whisper she utters the words that slice through me, shattering my shield, my pride.
“Is it money? I can help you. I’ll give it to you. No one has to know. You don’t have to do this.” There is pity in her tone.
The first time we had met, a picket fence separated her from me. My father was a cook at the country club and I used to help him out on weekends, and earn some pocket money in return. She belonged to her side of the celebrations while I snuck a glance, every once in a while, from my perimeter.
Today she put the fence up once again between us in a matter of seconds.
I take a deep breath to neutralize the effect that her words evoked inside of me. Why did I expect her to look at me differently?
But I am a bastard, and I am going to hell anyway. A little distraction doesn’t hurt. Removing the blade from her skin, I close the knife, shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Negotiating, are we? You won’t like my demands, Princess.”
“You don’t know that. I’m offering, take what you need. Whatever helps you move on from here. I’m ready to give it to you. Willingly—”
“True,” I say stepping closer, my gaze falls on her lips and very slowly, I lower my mouth to hers.
A simple brush of lips, mine on hers.
A heartbeat passes between us.
I am the first one to pull back. I am the one conflicted while she stands her ground. Staring back at me as if she wants to see how far I will go.
Fuck!
I have had many dreams about this very moment, where she was in my arms kissing me crazy because she wanted me. In my dreams, she is always full of mischief.
Some dreams are fractured pieces of a crazed heart. Absurd coping mechanisms for a stupid boy with an unrealistic crush on an unattainable girl.
She stays still like a statue for a full minute, perhaps in shock. Then her trembling fingers extend to caress her mouth where my lips touched.
One Mississippi
Two Mississippi
Three—
She slaps me hard across my face.
My cheek stings with pain but my stupid heart skips a beat.
The upward tilt of my mouth irritates her. “You made the offer. Willingly.”
“You’re nothing but a low-life thug!” she says, grinding her teeth, face flushed with anger, her index finger rubbing her lip one more time.
I chuckle, shaking my head seeing her so worked up over a chaste kiss. “There was no tongue. Is that why you’re mad?”
She brings her hand up again but this time I grab her wrist midair. “Don’t get so upset, Princess. Promise, next time we’ll definitely get to second base."
Smirking to rile her further, I release her arm.
“I will get you arrested. I will give them my statement,” she hisses.
“Make sure you also tell them how much you love gawking at my body during soccer matches and how much you enjoyed that kiss.” Puckering my mouth, I blow her a air kiss and wink, backing my steps.
Her jaw drops open but before she can deny my allegations, I step out of the room and turn the lock back, trapping her inside.
The minute I am outside in the corridors again, the gears in my brain switch to action sticking to my game plan.
My focus is sharp and my eyes watch my surroundings as I run. I am about to reach the sports center when the sirens from the police cars at a distance fill the air.
Change of plans.
There are rooms on either side of the corridors.
I start pushing against the doors of the rooms, but they are locked.
I need something obscure. I move faster and farther toward the hallways and finally the corner most room comes into view.
It’s the school’s music room. I use the metal wire again to open the lock and enter the music room.
My eyes land on the air-conditioning vent.
I climb the wall and slip the USB stick inside one of the vents.
I’ll have to come back for the USB later.
I am not handing it over to the police until I know what’s on it.
The envelope remains with me. The sirens howl louder but they are nowhere near my car.
I get out of the room, bend my body and run toward the bushes and then I begin crawling on the ground to stay camouflaged.
Reaching the barbed wire fence, I separate the barbed lines as I push my body out of the school grounds and run toward my car.
Suddenly, unmarked cars surround me from all directions. I don’t fight when they maul me to the ground or when my arms are tackled behind my back and the zip tie cuts into my wrists.
Minutes later, I am pushed inside the police car, where I sit back waiting restlessly, hoping that I get justice.
Dirt and sweat covers my body from head to toe. I badly need a drink. It’s then I feel a pair of eyes watching me through the glass barrier of the car window.
I look out to find the girl in white staring back at me. Her name is Ishika. The first time I heard it I had repeated her name a thousand times and more.
It’s an unusual name. So unique and beautiful, just like her.
I have had a crush on her since I was sixteen. Three years and still a sucker for her torture.
All I notice is that her hands grab on to the biceps of the man standing next to her.
Brent Davis is his name.
Brent is an asshole, but he treats her right. He pulls Ishika behind his back, shielding her from me. I shouldn’t care who she is with, and yet, a spark ignites, a fire starts to catch up and with jealousy I burn.
Will she kiss him tonight to wipe out the traces of my touch?
The fire inside me roars.
It blazes and flares bolder and louder, calling for her.
As if she hears me, she peeks at me secretly, giving me one last glimpse of her before the police car drives me away to the station.
My plan for tonight was supposed to be foolproof. I had anticipated every hurdle that could cross my path, except for Ishika and her sweet pouty lips. Her scent and proximity had muddled my concentration and distracted me from my objective.
Only later will I find out that in my rush to get away, I failed to notice that someone followed me through the shadows into the music room that night. Someone took the USB stick to make it disappear into thin air, therefore ending my only chance to find out the truth about my father’s death.