Fate Book (4 page)

“Finally,” I hissed. The cars moved, and I slipped into the first available spot toward the back of the lot. I turned off the engine and grabbed my bag, not bothering to check my hair or makeup. What was the point?

I locked the car and started the death march through the lot toward my fate. With each step, that witness protection program sounded better and better. Couldn’t be
that
hard to get in on a federal crime and turn informant, could it? Perhaps I would Google “snitch” on my lunch break if I wasn’t too busy dodging apple cores from the masses.

“Dakota! Watch out!” I heard Mandy yell, but by the time my brain caught up with my eyes, it was too late.

I screamed, but it wasn’t because a large blue pickup barreled down on me; it was because of whom I saw standing next to my best friend.

Smack!

“Dakota? Dakota? Ohmygod. Are you okay?” Mandy’s face was a pale blur against the backdrop of the gray rain clouds overhead. I felt the wind dust my face, chilling the drizzle collecting on my cheeks. “Don’t move. Okay? The ambulance will be here in a minute.”

Luckily, the hospital was exactly one block from school; however, a paramedic wasn’t what I needed. A psychiatrist was more like it.

Although I couldn’t make out the face clearly, the image hovering directly to my right looked eerily familiar.

“Santiago?” I mumbled.

I will never, ever forget the sound of his voice. Deep, strong, one hundred percent male.

Mesmerizing.

Something embedded in its timbre called out to millions of years of female evolution. It penetrated so deeply that even in my state of utter delirium, I could’ve sworn he’d latched onto my soul and wrapped it around his pinky.

“Dakota,” he responded, with a thick Spanish accent, “don’t move. Everything will be all right.”

That was the last thing I remember before I blacked out.

CHAPTER SIX

“Honey, can you hear me? Dakota? Open your eyes, baby.” A warm hand ran down the length of my arm.

My vision focused slowly, but my mother’s calm face punched through the haze. Was this what people witnessed when they came into the ER, or even died? My mother’s loving expression, reassuring them that they would be all right?

“What happened?” I whispered.

“You were in an accident, but everything’s fine—just a concussion. How do you feel?”

I made a pathetic little nod and tried to focus my eyes on the objects around the room: a small television mounted to the wall behind my mother and a peach-colored table and chair in the corner next to the empty bed at my side. “My head hurts, but fine.”

“Good!” She pinched my arm so hard that I yelped. Bolts of fury exploded from her eyes. “What the
hell
were you
thinking
?” She pinched me again.

“Ow!” I sincerely hoped this wasn’t her usual bedside manner. Not only did it totally suck, but in no way did it inspire me to stay alive. Although, maybe I did want to get away, so that was something.

I slowly sat up and then rubbed my head.
Owww…
“It was an accident. You just said so.”

My mother covered her face. “I knew this would happen. Damn it. He promised.”

“What? Who promised what?” I groaned, massaging my temples.

She shook her head from side to side and whisked away the tears from under her eyes. “Nothing. I just wish your father were here. I’m mad. That’s all. Never mind.” She pasted on a plastic smile.

Okay. That response seemed slightly…
off
. “Mom. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

Once again, her eyes filled with an undercurrent of anger. “Well I do. And it won’t ever happen again.”

“I’m not planning on letting it.” My brain completely hurt, and my body was in no better shape.

Just then, Mandy burst into the room. “Jesus Christ Superstar, Dakota. Are you okay?”

I tried not to laugh because (a) it was inappropriate and (b) it would hurt. But it was near impossible to ignore one of Mandy’s trademark expressions. She had serious flair for all things Broadway. New York really did seem like the best place for her to go to school.

My mother stood and smoothed down the front of her blue scrubs, too distracted to notice that Mandy had entered the room. “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.”

“Okay.” As soon as she left, I stopped hiding my panic. I looked at Mandy. “What the hell happened? And why is my mom acting so weird?”

Mandy rolled her eyes and plunked down on the edge of the bed. “You were hit by a car. What did you expect? A polka dance?”

I survived, didn’t I?
“No, but—”

And then that’s when I remembered.

Santiago.

Lord.
How had I forgotten?

“Mandy?” I gripped her hand for dear mental life. “Who was standing next to you when I got hit?”

Mandy made a little laugh. “Wow. Janice really
did
hit you hard.”

“Janice? Janice hit me?” I asked.

“Um, yeah. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Obviously not,” I replied.

Mandy’s dark brown eyes lit with joy. “Janice is in juvie.”

“What?”

“She ran you over, Dakota. Everyone saw it. And the only reason she’s not in jail is because she’s not eighteen yet. Lucky bitch. But according to the rumor mill, she’s supposed to be on meds and stopped taking them. Bipolar or something like that.”

“So she tried to kill me?” I knew she hated me, but murder? Really?

Mandy nodded. “Supposedly, she’d told all her friends she wanted to ‘kill you’ for making her look stupid in front of Dax.”

Okay. I knew it sounded strange for me to defend Janice, but I couldn’t believe she wanted to kill me. Meds or no meds. Not for something like that. “I’m sure she meant it figuratively.” Pause. Think. Rethink. “Are you sure?”

Mandy nodded.

Christ. I can’t believe it!

“Santiago and I saw the whole thing,” she added. “By the way, why did you lie to me?”

Santiago?
“Wha…what…what?”

“Yeah. He went to the station to make a statement, but I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

“Whoa! Back up. Who’s at the station?”

Her brows lifted. “Saantiaagooo,” she said with exaggerated slowness, as if speaking to a brand-new foreign exchange student. “You
really
must’ve hit your head hard if you can’t remember your secret, hot boyfriend. Personally, I can’t stop thinking about him. I sooo want one! I mean, seriously, does he have a brother? Even a younger one? ’Cause I can wait! If Jacob can do it for Renesmee, so can I!”

What the…
“Huh?”

“Hey! Don’t judge me. I never knew that actual human beings could be that good-looking.” Mandy huffed. “So. Not. Fair. By the way, exactly why were you hiding him from me?”

I plopped back against the headboard—
ow!
—in complete shock.

“You okay, Dakota? Should I call your mom?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m…I’m just tired.”

Mandy covered my hand and smiled. “You should rest before Santiago gets here. Wouldn’t want him seeing you looking all squiggly faced like that.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’ll stop by before school tomorrow.”

Before I could say another word, she was gone, leaving me with the insane thoughts plowing through my mind.

Boyfriend? Janice is in jail for attempted murder?

The only explanation was that I was in a coma and this was all a dream.
But you saw Santiago before the car hit you. Was that a dream, too?

My phone vibrated on the beige Formica nightstand. I picked it up and stared at the caller ID.

Santiago.

My hand trembled so fiercely that I could barely hold the darn thing to my ear. “Y…y…yes?”

“Hey, baby. Miss me?”

“Who is this?” I whispered.

Long pause. “
Tsk. Tsk.
Have you forgotten me so soon? Check your Facebook page,” he said, his voice deep, menacing.

My heart slammed into overdrive, but I couldn’t seem to make my mouth move.

“No worries,” he said. “I’ll be there in five to refresh your memory.”

The call ended, but all I could do was stare at the phone.

This can’t be happening.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lord. Whoever had been on the other end of that phone was coming to my room. I had to get out of there. Because as much as I loved believing in miracles, those didn’t exist, which meant this guy was some psychopathic stalker, some frigging lunatic who’d convinced everyone he was my boyfriend.

I slipped from the covers and immediately had to brace myself on the edge of the hospital bed. My head pulsed with painful, dizzying jabs. I slowly stood upright and willed myself steady. My ribs and hip were sore, but I’d survive. That was, if I got the heck out there.

I blew out a breath and wobbled to the clear plastic bag with my belongings, hanging on the wall. I had to find my mother. I had to warn her. What if this guy showed up and tried something?

I slipped on my jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, not bothering with the other stuff. I grabbed my phone and purse and tiptoed to the door.

I poked my head out, hoping to spot my mother doing rounds, but instead I saw—

The breath whooshed from my lungs.
Santiago?

Cue slow motion and avalanche of conflicting, irrational thoughts accompanied by an imminent panic attack.

My stomach and heart squeezed into a brick and then dropped through the center of my body.

Lord, help me.

Because the man I’d invented—correction—the
gorgeous
man I’d stolen a picture of, stood twenty feet away, speaking to my mother, wearing low-slung faded jeans and a fitted white, button-down shirt.

I stared in wonderment while my eyes infused with his image and branded itself on my brain. He was lust, rock star, tough guy, jock, Prince Charming, and misfit rolled into one dangerous, rugged, well-groomed package. He sent my female brain into a tailspin.

I’ve lost my mind. That gorgeous man is not standing there. That’s not possible!

I willed my heavy feet to move, but my eyes remained glued to him. He was tall—around six three or six four—and, just like in his photo, built like a lean, mean predatory animal with broad shoulders and powerful-looking…everything. Especially those arms. And those legs. And those…
yep. Everything.
To boot, he stood with the sort of confidence that gave me the distinct impression he really might be deadly. And ate his meat raw. Possibly still squealing.

Santiago, who towered over my mother, leaned down and hugged her. Then my mother said something, and they laughed like old friends.

What? He hugged my mother?
What was happening? Did she know him? Was the universe punishing me for lying? If it was, it was totally working. I’d never, ever lie again.
This time, I mean it, Santa.

Okay. This was all just too weird. I needed to get the heck out of there to rearrange my head. I slipped into the hallway, walking briskly in the opposite direction of Santiago.

Exit!
I flew into the stairwell and made my way outside. The afternoon air felt warm and soothing on my skin. I took in a slow breath to calm my pounding head, but it had the opposite effect. What a wallop I must’ve had.

Okay. Try to think.
Where would I go, and how would I get there? I didn’t have my sanity. I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t have much money.

I looked inside my purse.
But I still have my keys and a full tank of gas.
The school was one block away, as was my car.

Head throbbing and body aching, I half jogged, half hobbled the short distance to my salvation. Everyone was in class, so despite the parking lot being full of vehicles, it had an eerie feel, amplifying my state of panic.

No. Keep calm. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t—

My phone buzzed in my pocket, causing me to jump. I looked at the screen.
Shit. Santiago.

No. No. I wasn’t going to answer. My brain knew none of this was real. I only needed to go somewhere and think, calm myself so I’d wake up.

I got to my car and slipped inside. I fumbled with the keys as my hand trembled uncontrollably.

“Where the
hell
do you think you’re going? Have you lost your fucking mind?” he said, jumping into the passenger seat.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. And I’m pretty sure my mouth hung open.

Santiago stared with those dark eyes surrounded by thick black lashes—the exact ones I remember picking out from some random Internet page and saving to my hard drive. I didn’t know the man, but I knew he was unhappy by the way his broad chest heaved and his nostrils flared like a bull about to gore a matador.

“I…I…” The words weren’t forming. I wanted them to, but my throbbing brain and sweating, trembling body simply couldn’t reconcile the torrential rain of emotions pouring into me.

He reached over and plucked the keys from the ignition. “You’ve been in an accident. Why did you leave the hospital? And what makes you think you should be getting behind the wheel of a fucking car?”

“I…I…” I still couldn’t speak.

He shook his head and mumbled under his breath. He got out of the car, walked over to my side, and opened the door. “Out.”

But I couldn’t let go of the steering wheel. It felt real and familiar. If I let go, I might start screaming. For Christ’s sake, the man even smelled like the delicious concoction of leather and citrus I’d imagined when I’d made him up.

He leaned down and put his hand on my forehead. “Hell, you feel hot, Dakota. Move the fuck over.”

He pushed me to the passenger side. Meanwhile, my mind went around and around and around until the space between my ears felt like pea soup. He turned on the ignition, backed out of the spot, and headed to the hospital. His phone immediately buzzed, and he dug it out of his front pocket. “Yes, Mrs. Dane. I found her. We’ll be right there.”