Entanglements (5 page)

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Rom started then turned to me with his signature smirk.

“Exploring.” His soft laugh enveloped me like a cashmere afghan. “Exploring is the point is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Kizzy!” The call from Petra came from the other room. “They’re gonna kill each other.”

Dashing away from Rom and toward the group, I continued running until I was back in the main room. Senji and Chase wrestled at the center of the wavering beam of the flashlights. A fairly girly wrestling match. From time to time during the struggle, Petra pounded a small fist on Senji’s back.

“Stop it you two,” I shouted, taking another step toward them. Suddenly, my right foot broke through a plank in the wood flooring. As my leg sank, the broken edges of the wood scraped and bit into the skin, tearing a cut from ankle to shin.

The pain of the tearing flesh shot through me and I screamed. The girly guy fight stopped and the group rushed toward me. However, Rom reached me from behind first. I felt his hands under my armpits and then he lifted me until I sat on my bum at the edge of the newly made hole.

Rom carefully pushed up the leg of my jeans. With his flashlight beam, Senji revealed a bleeding gash on my leg about four inches long.

“That looks bad,” Petra said.

“It’s just a scrape,” I replied. Yeah. A scrape that hurt like hell. Reflexively, I covered it with my gloved hand, which didn’t stop the bleeding. I’d probably never get the blood out of the fabric.

“You’ll infect it,” Senji warned, pushing my hand away. After rummaging in his backpack he came out with an alcohol swab and a large square Band-Aid. As he ministered to my leg a sound from beneath us startled me.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Rom shook his head.

“No,” Petra said. “I can’t think of anything but your poor leg.”

There it was again, like hearing a pounding against the metal door of a submarine, twenty thousand leagues under the sea.

“Now?”

More shrugging and shaking of heads from my friends.

“I hear nothing,” Rom insisted. But his sideways glance and something in his expression contradicted his words.

“You’re lying,” I said. “Why?”

Rom ignored my words and examined my leg again.

“An end to our exploration it seems,” he said.

“Not on my account.” I tried to stand.

Rom placed one arm under my knees and the other around my back before lifting me easily.

“Put me down.” Ridiculous shame flashed in me. I wanted to relax against his broad chest instead.

“Service offered.” He gazed down at me. And as I gazed up at him, his warm breath grazed my cheek. “I offer to carry you home.”

His words made me want to snuggle my face into his neck and cry, an urge swiftly to be quashed.”

No,” I insisted. “It’s just a scrape and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t let you carry me home.”

Rom nodded and lowered me to my feet.

“Hey,” a male voice boomed from the window. “Who gave you permission to be here?”

Crap. We’d been caught. A myriad of punishments, including loss of my new phone, flashed before my eyes.

The flashlight belonging to the voice wavered as someone entered through the window. My hand went up to block the blinding light. One figure then three more came over the sill and into the room. Their shadows lurched closer.

“Trespassing is a crime,” the voice said. “You are in big trouble.”

We all seemed frozen, awaiting judgment. But then the unknown entrants snickered. The police wouldn’t laugh like that. As they moved closer our flashlight beams illuminated Billy Broadrick, Quinn Newton and their crew of spelunkers, the BQs. And it seemed they had a new member: my stepsister Juliette.

“Oh ho. If it isn’t the reeks.” Billy crossed his arms over his chest.

“Reeks?” Senji asked.

“Reeks. Retard geeks. And of course you smell. Get it?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Haha. Good one.” He held up his hand and Billy smacked it in a high five.

“Or should I call you squares.” Billy chuckled. “Isn’t that what you call yourselves? The squares?”

“Yeah. Squares. That’s fitting,” Quinn said. His laugh had a staccato bark quality. “Boo-fricken-yah.”

Great. Hadn’t I told Senji that the name mc²
 
was a problem? Why did we need a name anyway?

“Well, if it isn’t the BQs,” I drawled. “Doesn’t that stand for Beauty Queens—emphasis on queens?”

“It stands for Billy and Quinn.” Billy spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t recall giving you squares permission to be here.”

“We don’t need your stinking permission,” Senji said.

Billy strode forward to within inches of Senji, towering over him. “Is that right?”

“Ummm.” Senji stared into the wall of muscle in front of him. “That’s right.”

“We were just on our way to the morgue,” I announced.

“Ha. We were just there,” Quinn claimed from over Billy’s shoulder.

“You were not,” Franky scoffed. “Y’all just came through the window. The morgue’s somewhere in the basement.”

“Well, that’s where we’re going now and we aren’t having any reeks polluting our atmosphere,” Quinn said. “If you go now there won’t be any reek bloodshed.”

“You.” Billy pointed to Rom and walked over to him. “You can stay, man. You’re new and probably didn’t know we have the cool crew.” Billy offered a handshake.

Rom ignored his outstretched hand. “I have preference for mc².”

I could have kissed him for that—or just because he was ultra hot—but especially for the look on Billy’s face. Like he’d swallowed rotten fish.

“Okay, man. It’s your funeral.” Billy’s hand fell. “And if you squares don’t leave right now the funeral will be tonight.”

“Whatever,” Franky commented.

When Billy made a forward move, Juliette approached from behind and put a hand on his back. “Let’s go, sugar. I don’t want a fight with my sister. We can come back another time.” She cast a smile in my direction.

Hating her would have been so much easier if she wasn’t so blasted sweet.

“Don’t do me any favors. Your boyfriend doesn’t scare me.”

“How about a challenge,” Senji said. “A race. First member to tag the morgue wins for his or her crew. Winner takes all.”

“What does that mean?” Quinn asked.

“Winning crew gets dominance and chooses sites without future interference from the other crew.”

“You’re on,” Billy said with a sly smile. Clearly, he thought his band of jocks would win a race against a bunch of losers.

Rom grabbed me by the arm. “I like not this challenge.”

“Like I care what you think,” I said.

“Your injury could be worsened and there is possibility of damage to others.”

“Damage? What damage?” Something told me he meant something more than the usual risk.

“Are you done flirting? Can we go to it?” Billy interrupted us.

“Yes.” I turned my gaze back to Billy and pulled myself to full height hoping I looked tough. Probably not. “Juliette can call the start.”

“Go?” she said hesitantly.

Ignoring the pain in my leg, I ran, taking the corner before dashing toward the staircase I’d seen in the hall. Rom followed closely, his breath practically on the back of my neck. But okay, he was on my side after all.

At the head of the flight, Rom snaked around in front of me and blocked the “down”.

“Go on. They could be right behind us,” I yelled. When he didn’t budge, I tried to scoot by him and he blocked me again.

“Infirmity in the stairs, I believe,” he said.

“Probably. But we’ll be careful.” My actions contradicted my words as I hopped down the flight two stairs at a time, my hand skimming the wood banister. It wiggled beneath my lightest touch. The treads, though springy and creaking, held my weight.

“Kizzy. Halt.” Rom’s footfalls were heavy behind me. “Kiz—“

A crack and the snap of breaking wood startled me. I stopped.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Rom disappearing downward through a shattered tread, a look of absolute amazement on his face. As his body hit more treads they splintered and disintegrated.

“Rom!” I clutched at him and the tips of our fingers made brief contact before he continued through and vanished. A crash thundered from beneath me.

Peering through the broken planks I directed the flashlight into the gap. Rom’s body lay splayed out on the concrete floor, ten feet down.

“Rom,” I cried. Please don't let him be dead.

My breath caught in my throat and my legs wobbled. For a few seconds I couldn’t move. Finally, I stumbled down the remaining stairs and rounded the corner to kneel beside his prone body.

Still. He lay so still. I could think of nothing more useful to do than shake him by the shoulders. Lame but it worked and his eyes fluttered and opened.

“Agh,” he moaned lifting a hand to his head. “Damn Jupiter’s eyes.”

“Are you all right?” I asked. “Do you think anything is broken?”

“Pride only has suffered.” He slowly sat up. “Naught else.” Getting to his feet, Rom shook off the dust and broken wood fragments.

“Good.” I rose also. “Let’s go to the morgue.”

“A moment.” He halted me with his hand.

“What? You said you were all right.”

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched almost into fists. Clearly, he wanted to throttle me.

“We have no idea where the others are,” I explained with lots of irritation in my voice. “The BQs can’t win.”

He shook his head as if he still didn’t understand.

“If the BQs win, they’ll make our lives hell. Even more hell than they do already,” I said. “They’ll show up at every location we go to just to mess with us. I’m not having that.”

“Down that way.” A voice I didn’t recognize shouted from the floor above. Must be a BQ.

“Stay here if you want to, but I’m going.” I said, already on the move.

The bottom of the stairs dumped into a room. Scanning with the flashlight I saw three separate corridors branching out. The one to the right must lead to the area I’d seen from the main hall. Instinctively, I knew that wasn’t the right direction. If a tunnel to the park existed, and the morgue was in it, the tunnel would be in the direction of the park.

When I started toward that corridor, Rom grabbed my arm again.

“That is not the way,” he said.

Seriously, this guy was an obstruction I didn’t need. Even though he was so freakin' hot.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s go that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction from the one I wanted to pursue. “You lead the way.”