By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) (18 page)

He laughed and brushed it away. "I guess
that's our cue."

"I guess so," I struggled to get my ragged
breathing under control. Ty seemed to be having the same problem. A
flush went through me at the thought I had that kind of power over
him.

"Thank you for this," I whispered.

"You're welcome." He kissed me one last time
and pulled us both to our feet. "Time to get you back before your
dad sends out a search party."

We linked hands and headed back toward the
car. I listened to our soft footfalls on the cement, content for
the first time since this whole mess began.

"Can I confess something?" I asked,
immediately frustrated that my mouth interrupted the moment.

He nodded.

I paused, unsure of how to phrase my thoughts
without sounding like a complete idiot.

"With everything going on—or rather, despite
everything going on—I've never been happier than when I'm with
you." A thousand wings beat a tattoo against my stomach.

"Same here," he said, his hand tightening
around mine.

I let out a relieved breath, and buoyed by
his response, I continued. "I-I've also never felt more guilty. I
mean, you're going through so much right now. And with Kim's
death—and someone out there, plotting Lord knows what—is it wrong?
Us, I mean?"

His jaw clenched. "You're the only thing
that's right in my life right now. We're not doing anything
wrong."

So many other things went unspoken between
us, but they didn't need to be voiced. If something were to happen
to either of us, this might be all the time we would have together.
We had to take advantage of every minute—just in case. The thought
of any harm coming to him coiled my stomach into a tight ball.

"You're right," I said.

We continued down the street, fading in and
out of the shadows created by the evenly spaced street lamps. A
comfortable silence descended upon us, and I relished the moment,
knowing all too soon it would end. I smiled up at him, wondering if
he would kiss me again before the evening ended.

When he abruptly whipped me against his body,
I laughed, believing he had been musing about the same thing and
had decided to take the matter in hand.

Then I saw his wide eyes and felt his body go
taut as an electrical wire.

"Run," he said. "Run!"

Before I could react, Ty yanked me back in
the opposite direction. I stumbled behind him, my arm straining
painfully at the socket as I struggled to keep up with his fast
pace. Everything whipped by, the buildings blurring together and
keeping me from getting a firm bearing on our location. When he
stopped abruptly, I collided into his back. It felt like I hit a
brick wall, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. I took in a
ragged breath that seared through my lungs.

Eyes alert, Ty scanned the area, tuning into
things far beyond my senses.

"What—" was all I managed before he led us
down another darkened street.

"Will you tell me what's happening?" I choked
out. But he didn't need to answer. My ears had picked up the sound
of approaching vehicles. "Who is it?"

His eyes swept back to me. I knew without him
having to say. David. Vince. Who knew how many others may be with
them? From the look on Ty's face, we were in deep trouble.

The first headlights hit us while we were
crossing a street just a few blocks from where we had left Ty's
car.

We ducked inside the alcove of a shoe store.
Ty hovered over me, his face a mask of frustration. "If I tell you
to—run. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not leaving you behind," I argued, my
voice rising in pitch.

"Do it." He grasped the back of my neck and
pulled me into a rough kiss. "Later you can kick my ass for this. I
promise. But you
will
go when I say to."

Squealing wheels skidded to a stop in front
of us. They covered our escape routes well; cars came from all
directions, blocking us in and forming a misshapen semi-circle
around us. Bright headlights framed us against the storefront.

I recognized all of them. David stepped out
of his Camaro—the others following suit. Vince, Mike Lomond with
Jenna in tow, and a few other players from the basketball team. The
"Vote 4 Pedro" guy from the ice cream parlor hovered nearby, eyes
averted.

"Shit," I whispered. From their exaggerated
movements, it was pretty obvious they were all drunk. Most likely
they had been drinking out at the drive-in—where else would they
be?—when Pedro-boy clued them in to our whereabouts. Belligerent
when sober, the chances of talking any of them down were obsolete
while they were under the influence.

"Evening gentlemen," Ty said, his voice
steady. "Lovely evening for a drive."

He stepped away from the building. I followed
behind him, a death grip on his hand.

Perhaps that was a mistake. David honed in on
our linked hands, the sight curling his lips into a sneer.

"I never knew you were such a slut, Mac." He
practically spat out my name. "Not even a week later and you're
giving it up to this loser?"

Ty chuckled. "You can't really blame her for
preferring a guy whose methods involve more than brute force."

I sucked in a breath. What the hell was he
doing? It was almost as if he was purposefully trying to egg David
on. I counted at least eight guys in the circle, and it seemed a
suicidal move.

"They say that kind of aggression is the
result of being unable to get it up when push comes to shove," Ty
added. "I always said you were an asshole, but man, that's just
pathetic."

My fingernails dug into his hand, but he
ignored me.

David's face turned red, his fists clenching
and unclenching at his sides. The others in the group were watching
him out of the corner of their eyes. I guess even a mob mentality
had its limit. It was one thing to support a friend who had lost
his girlfriend to another guy, and quite another to support a
would-be rapist.

"Don't listen to him." David said. "He's just
jealous I got there first." With this simple declaration,
confidence seemed to return to the group. Drunken fools. They
stepped closer, ready to pounce.

Though he appeared outwardly relaxed, I felt
Ty's body go tense beside me.

"You have this coming to you," Vince growled,
standing at David's right hand.

"That's right, I heard you were pissed off
about last week's game," Ty said. "Too bad you didn't make the team
after—what was it—four try-outs?"

"You son of a..."

He rushed us.

Ty stepped away and stiff-armed me in place.
"Run," he yelled.

Like an athlete who jumps at the sound of the
starting gun, I hesitated, unable to budge for a split second. But
then my feet started moving, my body propelled forward by the
urgency in Ty's voice. I darted along the storefronts, running like
an animal desperate to survive.

I didn't get far. Todd York stepped out of
the shadows a couple of shops down, a predator in wait. He lunged
at me, nails digging into my forearms. I bit back the pain and
managed to twist out of his grasp to run the other way. Head over
my shoulder to see whether he followed, I faltered when I turned to
find Mike Lomond looming ahead of me.

"Ty..."

Just a few feet away, he had somehow managed
to ward off Vince. The jerk stood a few feet away, rubbing his
reddened chin. The others seemed unsure of what they should do
next, and stood at the edge of the light, arms limp at their sides.
David was nowhere in sight.

Despite the fact Vince and Ty had begun to
circle each other, round and round in the middle of the bright
lights, Ty turned to quickly assess the situation. He backed toward
me and held out a hand to draw me into his protection. He pulled me
tight to his back, slowly revolving us both around. I grasped his
flannel shirt, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest
when the group started to close in around us.

"You don't want to do this," Ty said, his
voice calm. "Just leave us alone."

Vince laughed. "Too late, O'Neill."

"If you want me, fine. Let's go. But leave
Mac out of it."

"As you wish." David's voice was so close I
jumped and loosened my grip on Ty. I caught movement out of the
corner of my eye.

Ty tried to dodge, but failed to move fast
enough. The bat grazed his shoulder. It was enough to put distance
between us. David wrapped an arm around my waist and wrenched me
backwards.

"Ty!"

He jerked his head in my direction, but I
lost sight of him as the group converged. He disappeared behind a
solid line of bodies.

"Stop it!" I screamed when the first punch
made contact with a meaty slap. The sounds continued, punctuated by
an occasional grunt of pain and scuffle of shoes along the
pavement. I couldn't see anything, and my worst fears took root in
my mind.

"Please stop!" I choked on my words and
strained against David's hold, trying to jockey for a clear line of
sight into the middle of the pack.

David pressed his lips close to my ear, his
breath hot and wet. "Sssh. You behave, and I'll make sure nothing
happens to you."

My body stiffened at the intimacy of his
voice. I struggled uselessly, first going limp in hopes I would
throw him off, and then clawing at his arms when that failed to
weaken his hold. Each second that ticked by served to ignite and
then stoke the anger and frustration building inside of me. I
needed to get away, get help.

Desperate, I thrust my head back; it made
contact with a sharp crunch. David's hold on me loosened, giving me
just enough room to get my feet planted on the car parked in front
of me. I kicked off, my weight causing us both to fall on the
ground, me on top of him. His breath expelled in a loud gush. I was
on my feet and stumbling away before he could regain his
bearings.

Wide-eyed and frantic, I found the fight
still underway. I searched the mass of bodies undulating before my
eyes for any sign of Ty. I couldn't see him.

Then I was screaming, my voice hoarse and
useless. The clang of a bottle scuttling across the concrete behind
me spurred me into motion, afraid David would catch me. I ran,
scanning the deserted streets for life—anyone who could help. Just
as panic inched up my throat, I saw a flicker of movement inside a
small gas station. I tripped past the pump islands and pounded on
the door, the small window rattling under my hands.

"Help! We need help!"

Each strike of my fist released a sob from
within my chest, my helplessness sinking into my knees, weighing
them down until I feared they might buckle. But still I
pounded.

At last someone's figure came into view. My
eyes struggled to focus on him through the dirt smudged glass.

"Please help me!" I continued to beat the
door, even after I heard the tumbling lock being disengaged. When
the door swung inward, I fell across the threshold. A warm body
caught me, and I looked up into the face of Caleb Martin.

"What the hell are you do..." He paused and
took hold of my hands, flipping them over to stare at my knuckles.
"Are you crazy?"

I could barely breathe, and my words stumbled
over each other. "Please—they're going to kill him! I need you to
come!" I dragged him outside with me. "Hurry!"

A look of hesitation flashed across his
features, then melted into one of annoyance. "Shit," he muttered
before heading inside. He emerged with a tire iron in hand.
"Where?"

"Down the street. Hurry!"

"How many are there?" He took off at a quick
jog. I struggled to keep up.

"Eight." I barely expelled the word.
"No—nine!"

I ended up falling far behind. His white
T-shirt disappeared, and I prayed he wouldn't be too late.

When at last I caught sight of him again, his
lone figure standing out of the path of the headlights, my heart
jumped into my throat.

"Ty!" I screamed, rushing forward.

Caleb's arm shot out, catching me around the
waist. My legs fell away beneath me, swinging like a doll's.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Caleb
released me and cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter to
spark a cigarette. "Don't worry. I don't think he's the one in
trouble."

He took a drag and leaned against a street
lamp.

Momentarily stunned, it took a moment for my
eyes to focus on the scene before me. Only then did I understand
his words. My jaw dropped open, relief and horror—both in equal
measure—causing my heart to freeze up. I took a few halting steps,
unable to go any farther.

A blur of white rushed at me. Jenna. Tears
trailed down her cheeks and her eyes were wide with fright. She
grabbed hold, shaking me until my teeth clacked together.

"Stop him!" she screamed, her fingers digging
into my arms. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I stumbled forward,
unsure of what to do.

The sickening thud of fists against skin met
my ears. Ty stood in the middle of the heaving group of bodies, an
epicenter of destruction. Slick with sweat, his body remained
remarkably unscathed. His shirt hung in tatters, but that seemed to
be the only ill effect he suffered. I couldn't say the same for his
opponents. Most were staggering, their half-assed efforts failing
to tire the machine they faced. As each lunged forward, Ty batted
them away like a giant would a fly.

Just then, Ty landed a solid kick to Mike's
chest, and the tall basketball player flew backward and landed on
the hood of David's car with a hollow thud of flesh against metal.
Jenna pushed me aside and rushed over to cradle his head in her
lap. He let out a choking cough, trying to catch his breath.

"Do something!" she screamed at me.

I jerked my attention back to Ty. Having
fully expected to find him in trouble, I didn't have the first clue
how to stop his rampage now that his rage had been unleashed. The
muscles in his back worked smoothly as he threw off his attackers
one by one. They stumbled and fell, disbelief etched across their
faces as they pushed to their feet to try again—albeit slower each
time. Grunts of pain accompanied each hit Ty delivered. I thought I
heard a low growl underlying it all. It was coming from Ty.