01 Untouchable - Untouchable (12 page)

His eyes got bigger as he
realized that I was getting ready to take the lead from Ryan.
“Leeeese!” came the warning, but it was too late as we flew passed
the line of cars.

I just kept singing, eyes
on the road, hands on the wheel. I knew where we were headed and I
left the pack in the dust. I weaved through the tight streets and
headed for the dead end at the beach. The look on his face changed
as he listened and watched my facial expressions. The big finish
was coming and I was charged like a bolt of lightning to do
something I hadn’t done in almost two years. Daytona was back in my
mind like some happy drug. The final approach to the park ended in
a large round cul-de-sac turn around just before the big iron bar
that blocked the visitors from entering at night. I could see on
approach that the circle was empty. I dropped the shifter one more
time, looked at Evan and said, “Hold on.”

He didn’t have time to
rebut or tell me no, all he could do was grip the door with one
hand and brace against the dash with the other. It was brake,
shift, steer and we spun three-hundred and sixty degrees into the
circle.

“
Wow!” I practically
screamed out as the smoke and dust began to clear.

“
What is wrong with you?
You could have killed us both!” He had my right arm in a grip so
hard that it was painful, but I still managed to reach over with my
left and turn off the music.

“
Ow, ow, ow,” I was saying
about the power of his hold, but yet I was trying to laugh too,
“I’m sorry, but I’ve done it before—at Daytona.”

He let go, realizing he’d
put a nasty red mark on my skin. “Daytona?”

“
Yeah, you
know the race track.” I said rubbing my arm. “I told you my family
had money…” I let it drift off hoping he’d get an idea of what I
was talking about. “I was allowed to drive for the length of one
song.
Twilight Zone
is eight minutes long—it was what I
picked.”

“
This isn’t Daytona,” he
growled.

Just then the headlights of
the other cars came into view as they filed into the circle. I was
still trying to get the mark to disappear from my skin while
Skeeter was unlocking the gate.

He reached over, all the
anger had dissipated from his eyes as he gently stroked my upper
arm. “I’m really sorry about that.” His voice was so low and choked
that I could barely hear him.

I gave a braver-than-I-felt
smile and replied that it was okay, but I’d need my jacket to cover
it up.

He reached behind the seat
and handed it to me, apologizing once more.

“
I guess I deserved it,” I
muttered.

“
No,” he
said, his hand turning my face toward him. “You didn’t deserve to
get hurt.” He let a little grin come out from behind the pain
filled expression. “I—I just wish you’d have mentioned your
weakness for fast cars and bad music,
before
I convinced you to
drive.”

The gate was open and
everyone drove down the winding shell road, through the dark tangle
of pines that led to the beach area. We parked next to the pavilion
as Skeeter unlocked the rental shack and pulled out beach chairs
for everyone. Evan, Nate, and Ryan gathered pieces of wood and
tossed them into the big round fire pit and, after a short while,
we had a nice crackling blaze.

Some sat around the fire
while others wandered down to the water’s edge. It was just a
little bit nippy in the March air, so my jacket actually felt good
and the fire was a perfect complement to the night. Ryan and Jewels
were into a pretty deep conversation so I didn’t have any worries
about him and Evan causing friction. Kev and Carlie were beside us,
Kevin having vaulted into an explanation about the special effects
from the movie. Evan looked over and asked if I’d like to walk to
the water. There were other people there so I felt it was safe.
Once we were far enough away, he asked me what I’d driven on the
speedway. I grinned and looked down at my feet trudging through the
sand.

“
Your VW isn’t your first
car, is it?” He sounded fairly sure of my answer.

Now I had to decide how
much to say. I’d told him my family had money, but I never said how
much. I knew his family must also have money, simply because most
teenagers don’t have a brand new forty-five-thousand dollar car to
drive, so would it matter to him? “I’ll tell you, but on one
condition.” I stopped walking and looked up, my hair getting
tousled by the wind. He took both hands and tucked the fluttering
strands behind my ears.

“
What?”

“
You’re getting information
about me, but I know almost nothing about you.”

The smile slowly faded from
his face, “There isn’t much to tell.” He turned and continued
walking toward the water.

“
I still want to know more
about you.”

He rubbed the hidden scar
on his arm. “You may not like what you hear. Tell me about your
car—your real car.”

I was assuming that was as
close to a yes as I was going to get. We reached the place where
the loose sand became compacted and I lowered myself to sit with my
knees drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. He
followed suit, putting himself hip to hip with me.

“
Before I turned old enough
to get my restricted, my mom bought me a Jaguar—so I could learn
how to drive,” I added.

He let out something that sounded like
a half laugh, “Nice first car to learn in.”

“
Yeah, but it was an
automatic and the kind of driving school I attended…” I let my
words fall into nothingness.

“
Not your average driving
school, I take it?”

“
No, not at all. And, if I
was going to learn how to do some of the more—more challenging
moves, I needed a manual transmission and a faster car.”

“
Daddy to the rescue,
right? You talked your dad into something sportier than what your
mother bought?”

“
No—Dad thought I was too
young to have a car. So I bought myself a Porsche 911.”

He got a funny look on his
face as he stared at me. “That explains your driving.”

“
I wanted to at least see
what it could do.”

“
At least
,” he mused.

“
So my driving instructor
got special permission for me to try it out on the speedway. There
was nothing going on there so I had some privacy. Tony said I could
try my favorite moves and then I could run it flat-out on the
track, but only for the length of one…”

“
Song,” he finished for me.
“So how fast did it go?”

I was trying my best to be
humble at that moment, but I could remember the thrill of nearly
unchecked speed. “I ran mostly about one-fifty, one-sixty, but I
got it up to one-ninety before I lost my nerve.”

“
I don’t believe that,” he
said rather nonchalantly.

“
It’s the truth! I really
did run on Daytona,” I insisted

“
Oh, I believe that. I
can’t believe you lost your nerve.”

“
I’m not a big risk taker…”
I started to say, when he burst into laughter and rolled back on to
the sand.

“
What?” I stretched out on
the sand as well, rolling to my side to face him. It was cold and
slightly damp, but it was worth it to get a good view of the
genuine happy look on his face.

“
You are not a risk taker?
I saw the speedometer in town and I just went three-sixty with you
on a sand covered beach parking lot, and…” He went
quiet.

“
And, what?” I
prodded.

He reached up and touched
my arm where he’d tried to snap it off earlier. Even though the
touch was soft, my arm was still painful, and I had to bite my
tongue to keep from crying out. “You’re here with me,” he
answered.

“
So you’re saying you are a
big risk?” I pried. It was time to find out more about the guy who
was magnetizing my heart, drawing me to his steel
façade.

I reached over and touched
the scarred shoulder through his tee-shirt. I thought I felt him
shudder under my fingers. “I didn’t realize I’d guessed this right
that day at gym—I just hope I was wrong about it being a girl you
were stalking.”

“
No, it wasn’t a
girl.”

“
Do you mind?” I asked as I
started to lift his sleeve.

“
Would you be satisfied if
I said no?”

“
I already know what’s
there. I just don’t know the story behind it.”

He nodded slowly, giving me
permission to look at the disfigurement on an otherwise perfect
arm. I pushed the sleeve upward, exposing his shoulder in the
moonlight. I could see the pink tail of the scar where the bullet
must have grazed before piercing through the muscle. He had closed
his eyes as I inspected the place on his arm, his breathing deep
and quiet as my fingers traced from the tail to the rounded
indention. It dawned on me that it must have traveled completely
through and exited along the triceps, so I carefully felt the back
side of his arm with my free hand. Once again I found a scar, but
it wasn’t quite as rounded as the one on the front. He flinched as
my fingers brushed the marred skin. “Does it still hurt?” I asked,
surprised that what appeared to be an old wound might still be
sensitive.

His eyes opened. “No, I’m
just not used to having someone touch it.”

“
How did it
happen?”

Indecision was so clear on
his face I could almost watch the internal struggle as he weighed
what he wanted to tell me.

“
If it’s not the truth,” I
added quietly, “I don’t want to know.”

His eyes closed again.
“You’re a fine one to add that little disclosure—I don’t even know
your last name.”

That remark stung.
“But—but, I can’t…” Stupid emotions! I sat upright and wrapped my
arms around my legs once again. I couldn’t continue the
conversation if I couldn’t control my feelings. I wasn’t one of
those ‘I’ll cry to get what I want,’ kind of girls, and it
infuriated me when I could do little to stop the tears from
appearing every time my feelings bruised.

He sat up, brushing the
sand from my back. “My car seats are never going to forgive me for
this,” he said as he continued wiping me off.

My chin was resting on my knees at this
point and I was starting to gain a little composure.

“
I was in a fight with
someone,” he said hoarsely. “I had him down on the floor when he
pulled a gun and shot me through the arm.”

“
You could have been
killed,” I said, clearly shaken at the truth of what he was
revealing, and I was certain this was the truthful
version.

“
I thought I was dead when
that gun when off,” he admitted. “It didn’t hurt as much as it
burned like he’d slammed a piece of red-hot steel through me. My
ear was in so much pain, I thought the bullet had gone through my
head.” He looked at me and could tell I didn’t understand. “The
sound of the gun going off that close ruptured my
eardrum.”

“
What happened after he
shot you? Did he leave you there or was he sorry…”

He gave a gruff sound like
a strangled laugh. “Yeah, he was sorry he did it,” he said tersely,
“when I got finished with him.”

“
What did you do?” I was
asking, but I wasn’t really certain I wanted to know the outcome.
he turned to me with those eyes. Those eyes that I knew were dark
green, but out here away from any lights they just looked like deep
black pools.

“
I killed him,
Leese.”

My heart seemed to stutter
to a hard stop and then took off a million-miles-an-hour. He just
told me he actually killed someone. My mouth had become so dry that
it was as if I had grabbed a cup of beach sand and filled it. I was
struggling for anything to say, but I could only think of one
thing. “Did you have to go to jail?”

“
No,” was his abrupt
answer.

All I could think was that
it must have been self-defense. That would have been the only
logical solution to have kept him out of jail.

“
Now you understand why I
said you were taking a risk being with me.” The way he said it was
utterly somber.

“
Evan, you aren’t going to
shoot me,” I said as if he had slipped a mental cog.

He was expressionless.

“
Unless I wreck your car
tonight,” I added, trying hard to get away from the subject that
I’d brought up.

That broke the void stare
and he laughed, “Actually, I think I’d just make you pay for it.
You could do that, right?”

I grimaced, “Yeeeah, I
could—unless you would take my Porsche in trade?”

“
That would be quite a
deal,” he seemed to be considering it. “Mine was forty-three
thousand. How much was yours?”

I winced a little, “A hundred and
thirty-eight.”

“
Barring you killing us
both, have fun driving my car tonight,” he said with an enormous
grin.