Rules of Survival(66)

“That’s him,” I whispered.

“Probably.” Shaun was beside me. He’d been beside me this entire time. I grew up watching Mom lie to everyone else and thought I was the one person exempt from that. It turned out I wasn’t and that hurt. But Shaun—Shaun had never been anything other than truthful. Even when it was ugly and harsh, he’d been straight with me.

“Thank you.” I turned to him. Hazel eyes met mine with a genuine spark. It was something I never expected to find. Friendship—and more. He’d said he wanted to keep me, and the truth was, I was starting to think I wanted to keep him, too, even though I knew it was likely impossible. “You said you’d help me and you did.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know. You can come back with me. Pat and I can keep you safe. We can deal with Bengali. You said you wanted out, but if you do this, you’ll still be running.”

“Yeah, but if what Patrick said about Mick was true, I can still start over somewhere—sort of. Besides, you’ve seen what Bengali is willing to do to get to me. If I stick around, eventually you would get caught in the cross fire, and I don’t think I could live with that.” I lifted my hand to his face. His skin was so warm. I let myself drown in the sensation for just a moment.

Leaning forward, I kissed him. When I pulled away, Shaun was watching me with wide eyes. “Kayla—”

“This is the best way to go.” If I let him continue, there was a very real chance he’d be able to talk me out of it. That I would allow him to lead me back down the driveway and to a phone to call Patrick.

We’d only spent a few days together, but they’d been a hell of a few days. In some ways Shaun knew more about me—the real me—than even Mom had. “Ready?” He took my hand and squeezed.

I squeezed back. “No—but let’s go anyway.”

Answers. This is what I’d been waiting for. A year’s worth of sleepless nights and insane theories, and the end could very well be standing a few yards away. Mom had been purposefully vague about her past. I understood why now. There was this thing… This horrible thing that had followed her. Followed us. I needed to know the truth. About what she’d done. About what she might have done.

I took a deep breath and started to move.

A thin layer of sweat broke out on the nape of my neck. The wind kicked up a strong breeze, and the moisture sent chills down my back. With each step, my heartbeat quickened and suddenly it seemed I’d forgotten how to breathe.

“You okay?” Shaun asked.

I nodded. Speech was impossible at that moment. I was terrified of what I might find out, yet I’d never been so excited. Right. Left. Right. Left. Each step brought me closer to what I hoped was the end.

“What can I do for you guys?” the man asked as he stepped to the edge of the gate at the top of the driveway. He ran his hands down the length of his jeans to brush away the dirt as his eyes fell to the shackles. The hoodie had been in tatters, so we’d left it behind. “And why exactly are you chained together?”

He had on an old Metallica T-shirt and worn jeans and greeted us with a friendly smile. I couldn’t remember Mom ever showing interest in a guy before—was this her type? The tall sort of rugged casual?

“If this is another fund-raiser for the varsity football team, do I need to remind you how badly the bring-a-pet-to-prom thing went last year? From what I understand, they’re still pulling feathers from the bleachers.” He rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you guys just do a bake sale like everyone else?”

Deep breath. “We’re not from the local school. My name is Kayla.” I hitched a thumb toward Shaun. “And this is Shaun. We think you knew my mom? Melissa Morgan?”

For a moment none of us moved. Not even a twitch. I stood there with my breath held as Hank Friedman—aka Mick Shultz—simply stared at me like I was an alien. I started thinking maybe we’d found the wrong guy. A part of me was both thrilled and crushed by the possibility.

“You’re Melissa’s daughter?” It wasn’t exactly skepticism in his voice, but there was definitely caution. I needed help, but that didn’t mean I trusted this guy. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

“You know who I am?” I asked, watching for signs of trouble. A flinch here, a twitch there. But Mick Shultz was as cool as a cucumber.

“Yep,” was all he said.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

His eyes narrowed. “Should I?” He turned away from me to scan the area. “Melissa with you?”

“She died last year.”

“Died or got herself killed?”

My jaw tightened, and I bit down on my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret. His callous attitude pissed me off, but I needed his help. “She was killed,” I managed evenly.

He picked up the garden hose at his feet and started rolling it up. “Doesn’t surprise me. That woman had more enemies than Hitler.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my lip. That one I couldn’t let slide. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled, but his expression softened just a smidge. “You didn’t really think she was a saint, did you? Melissa Morgan used anyone and everyone she could to get what she wanted. If you had what she needed, you were the most important person in the world. As soon as she got it? You were no one.”