Chasing Thunder (28 page)

“Just barely,” he agreed. “Twenty-one.” He looked her over. “Sixteen?”

She shook her head. “Eighteen,” she lied easily.

He spotted her tattoo. “Oh, I guess so, huh. Nice ink.”

A blush crept up her cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, go get Snake.”

He nodded and she brushed past him to head to the garage. She returned with Snake a few minutes later, and Xavier sent her a heart-stopping smile as he walked away with his new boss.

“Who was that?” Kid asked as he joined her. His voice was small and tight.

She waved it away. “Just the new bartender. No biggie.”

“You should be careful,” he warned. “This world isn’t like your old world. You can’t trust just anyone here.”

“I trusted you,” she pointed out.

“Just . . . be careful,” he repeated.

She grabbed his hand in hers. “I will,” she said, sealing her promise with a peck on his cheek before she climbed back up the ladder. Xavier stopped by her section before he left to thank her for being so helpful. She laughed as she reached the floor. “That’s my job,” she chirped happily.

He spotted Kid watching them from his spot at the cash register. “I’d ask you for your number, but I’m afraid your boyfriend wouldn’t approve.”

Again she laughed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Xavier said with an arched eyebrow.

“I don’t really do . . . boyfriends,” she said.

“Oh,” he said softly. His dark eyes were hopeful. “Friends, then,” he said, offering his hand.

She considered it for a moment before she took it. He grinned as he pulled a felt pen from his shirt pocket and wrote his phone number on the inside of her palm. He gave her a friendly salute before he headed out the door.

She could barely look in Kid’s direction as she resumed her task. He was quiet as they left for lunch, heading down to the pier to meet Maddox “Mad Dog” Guerra at the burger joint. Maddy, as Kid called him, was tall and skinny, with jet black hair that fell halfway down his back. He had the same high cheekbones as his grandfather, with velvety brown eyes and a ready smirk. He wore a thrash metal T-shirt and a black hoodie, silver rings on every finger, a jade bracelet on one wrist and a studded leather cuff on the other.

Baby understood in an instant why everyone had decided against calling him “Mad Dog.” Despite his style of dress, he didn’t look all that threatening. She quickly learned that he was an Internet ninja who could crack any code and dissect any program. His mind raced at a hundred miles per hour while everyone else’s sat idle. He spoke so fast that she had to ask him to repeat himself a dozen times, but from what she could understand he was funny, he was smart, and he was a sardonic complement to Kid.

Even though they hadn’t seen each other in years, they quickly fell into a friendly, familiar banter. They gave each other shit, and Maddy gleefully embarrassed his old friend in front of the new girl. Baby laughed it all off, having the time of her life.

When Kid stood up to leave, she was disappointed. Impulsively, she gave Maddy a hug. “It was nice to meet you, Mad Dog,” she said close to his ear. His eyes twinkled as she pulled away and he saluted both of them before he headed to his bike.

“I hope you weren’t too bored,” Kid said as they walked back to the shop.

“Not at all. We should definitely hang out more.”

He smiled at her shyly. “Snake’s birthday is coming up. Fourth of July. Used to be a big deal a gazillion years ago. Maybe we could do something to celebrate it, like have a party or something,” he suggested. “Just like the old times.”

She linked her arm with his. “Consider it done.”

It was the happiest Kid felt all day.

Sweat poured down M.J.’s face as she worked out on the elliptical trainer. The TVs positioned above the bank of exercise equipment displayed the news with the volume muted. More alerts about the Hard Candy Killer scrolled across the bottom of the screen, but she could barely stand to look at it. It was old news now. And it was useless to her.

After five minutes she finally gave up. She stepped off the machine and reached for her towel. She wiped the perspiration from her black tank top as she headed for the punching bags, pausing to work with a jump rope. She skipped it easily, crisscrossing it in between steps and skipping double-time. By the time she finished she was hopping from foot to foot, eager to beat the hell out of that bag.

She jabbed, she punched, and she kicked full force, holding nothing back. That bag bore the brunt of her impotent rage as her mind raced with a dozen strategies to take down Dominic Isbecky. She only had one shot and she knew it. So she had to make it count. Unfortunately, none of her plans were as sadistic as she would have liked. The punching bag bore the brunt of that as well. It violently swung back to her, and she was ready with yet another blow.

“What’d that bag ever do to you?” she heard someone ask over her shoulder. She glanced back to find Kelly, in his workout shorts and tank top, standing behind her.

“God, don’t you have a hobby?”

“Nope,” he said as he picked up the jump rope. “I have a job. And you’re it.”

She punched the bag in response. “Don’t you have a killer to find?”

“You tell me. Do we still have to find him? Or do you know right where he is?”

She unleashed a flurry of kicks on the bag. Her shorts fit high and tight, revealing her strong and powerful thighs as she repeated the action. “You know who I think it is, Harris. So go do something about it.”

“Before you do?” he asked, finishing his work with the speed rope.

She said nothing as she practiced her uppercut. He headed for the other bag. “Gotta admit. You look like a woman about to go into battle.”

She chuckled humorlessly as she delivered another punch. “I’ve never been out.”

He faced her for a long moment. She threw another punch, and he grabbed her wrist almost effortlessly. Without another word, he led her toward the mat.

“What are you doing?”

He glanced down at her with those piercing blue eyes. “Giving you practice with something that fights back.”

He walked to the middle of the mat and turned to her. She hesitated briefly before she joined him. He’d be a lot more fun to beat up than some old punching bag.

They squared off against each other, and she took the lead by throwing the first punch. She went for the nose again, but this time he was prepared. With catlike reflexes, he caught her wrist in his palm, intercepting her jab. She had stepped forward with her attack, so he stepped in with his left leg and let her momentum carry her over his knee and right to the floor.

She glared at him as she sprang up. He smirked and motioned for her to come at him, like they were in some ’70s kung fu movie. It pissed her off even more. She responded with a flurry of punches and kicks. He bobbed and wove around her flying fists and groin-seeking knee. She got angrier with every blocked jab or kick. Finally she aimed her elbow toward his face. He advanced, locking her neck in an arm hold. He kicked her feet out from under her and easily tossed her onto her back. He followed her down before she could hop back up again. His eyes were intense as he glared down at her. “Get rid of your anger, M.J.,” he commanded in a low voice. “Focus.”

He hopped up. She glowered at him, and he offered her a hand. She used this trusting move against him, pulling him back down, locking his arm between her legs as she pulled him into an arm bar, twisting her body until he was forced to tap out and avoid injury. She unraveled her body and they both stood. She faked a right jab toward his nose, like before, but as he prepared for that move, she used her foot to deliver a blow to his stomach, which doubled him over. She grabbed him as she rolled backward onto the floor, kicking his body weight over her. He recovered and tackled her before she could stand upright, knocking her to the mat.

He pinned her with both palms against her shoulders. Their eyes met and locked, feeling each other out, constantly assessing and reevaluating. His eyes glittered as they swept across her face, taking in the full lips that parted softly with each pant of exertion.

Her eyes widened as she realized how every inch of his strong body covered hers. He smirked again and dragged himself into a standing position. She watched him warily from where she lay. Eventually he offered a hand to help her up. She considered it for a long moment before she put her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand.

They stood face-to-face for a long, quiet moment. Finally she slipped past him without saying a word, stalking toward the showers.

He stared after her for a long while with an absent smile on his face.

21. PATIENCE

A
s expected, M.J. disappeared in those dark days following Tammy’s murder. She was a woman on a mission, and Kid told Baby that they wouldn’t be seeing her anytime too soon.

But Baby had other things to worry about. She was using her nifty new smartphone to check the Internet daily to see if her mother and her stepfather had managed to locate her. Within days of the discovery of Tammy’s body, her worst nightmare was finally realized. As expected, Stuart and Katherine Rothchild held a press conference to announce that the search for their beloved missing daughter had expanded all the way to California, where a photo of Haley Roberts was linked in connection with the Hard Candy Killer.

Equally as expected, Katherine caterwauled as she lamented on what a difficult time it had been for her, and how she hadn’t been able to eat or sleep in the weeks since her precious baby had disappeared. Baby’s lip curled as she listened.
Yes, Mother. It was always all about you
.

Amazingly, though, Katherine looked perfectly coiffed for her national debut, as if she hadn’t missed one appointment at the salon or at the gym. Not a hair or hem was out of place, and no tears were shed as she portrayed a virtuous mother for the masses.

The only thing worse was seeing Stuart Rothchild play the part of concerned father. Like Katherine, he was perfectly styled for the cameras. His expensive suit stretched over his fit physique. His smile was straight and bright and his eyes were narrowed and steely blue, despite the concerned mask that he wore. He completed his ensemble with a bright red power tie and American flag lapel pin.

All they needed was an apple pie and a bald eagle to complete the image.

Just seeing Stuart’s face again was enough to make Baby’s stomach lurch. Her hands trembled as she exited out of the browser and threw her new phone across the bed. She drew herself up into a tiny ball and tried to quell the shaking.

The girl they are looking for is dead
, she reminded herself yet again. She was a new person altogether. She had to be, because there was no way in hell she’d go back to being Haley Roberts ever again.

To prove it, she threw herself into her new life in L.A. with gusto. She began planning for Snake’s thirtieth birthday party, which coincided nicely with the Fourth of July holiday. She was at Wyndryder every day, just like Snake and Kid, and worked closely with her new best pal Jimmy to throw together an epic biker soiree.

With her new look and her new hideaway, located far away from Hollywood and the life that had put her right in the killer’s line of fire, she felt confident that she could stay safely hidden in a city of millions. But that didn’t stop her from jumping every time someone walked through the front door of Wyndryder. She kept expecting to see Stuart’s hateful face every time the bell jangled.

Both Snake and Kid noticed her skittish behavior, but assumed it had more to do with the Hard Candy Killer. Tammy’s story was splashed all over the news, everywhere they looked. And media talking heads ruminated endlessly on the identity of the second girl in the one photo they had of Tammy while she was alive, pointing out—as if they needed to—that she was just the kind of victim the Hard Candy Killer targeted. Everyone drove the same message home: they had to find this girl before the killer did, if he hadn’t already.

“
The main question now, Nancy, is whether we find this girl alive
 . . . 
or in pieces
.”

It was enough to make anyone a nervous wreck, not to mention a girl
who had clearly run from a terrifying experience she had thus far been unwilling to share. She purchased a pair of nonprescription glasses from a costume shop to conceal her face, and contemplated buying colored contacts for her eyes. So near to Tinseltown, she could become anyone, and she took full advantage of that.