Forbidden Fire (Forbidden #2) (5 page)

"Maybe we should join the Freakshow. We might finally find a place to fit in. You could be the World's Strongest Man, and I could be the Mind Reader!"

Drake smiled.
'You know, I actually thought about it when I was younger. Nearly approached them too, but didn't really want to be the center of attention like that. I just had this nagging fear someone would find me if I did.'

"Obviously not an unjustified fear."
I thought of how they did eventually find him, capture him, and keep him locked up and powerless like a dog.

'Don't be so sad. I'd go through it all again if that's the only way I could've found you.'

We had a total tourist moment, taking pictures with the World's Tallest Man and the World's Shortest Woman before joining the stream of pedestrians again.

My worry about the world eased away, and I found myself feeling normal, just enjoying a sunny afternoon at the beach with my boyfriend.

"Dude, is that really you?" A tall, lanky guy with sun-bleached hair jogged towards Drake with a surfboard in hand. "Man, where the hell have you been? You disappeared after the competition, and no one's seen or heard from you since. Dude, you were primed to win that day. What gives?"

Drake plastered a smile on his face and bumped fists with the guy.

Brad's smile, at least, seemed genuine. "Rick, how the hell are you?"

"Hey, Brad, haven't seen you out on the waves lately. Busy with the writing? Making national headlines?"

"Something like that."

Rick looked at me. "And who's this?"

Drake stood protectively by me. "This is my girlfriend, Sam. Sam, this is one of my old surfing buddies, Rick."

I shook Rick's hand. "Nice to meet you."

His eyes drifted to my belly then back up. "You too. How long have you and Drake been together?"

Before I could answer, Drake interrupted. "A while. And yes, the baby's mine. I'm going to be a dad."

Rick's eyes grew big, but he composed himself quickly and slapped Drake on the back. "Congrats, dude. That's awesome. You'll make an epic father. You can teach your little dude how to catch the perfect wave."

A glow lit in me as I imagined Drake holding our child on a surfboard, teaching him or her the secrets of the ocean.

"So what happened to you guys?" Rick asked.

"I ran into some trouble that day at the competition. It's a long story."

"Well, you're back now. We should hang, catch some waves. You game?"

"Would love to, but my surfboard is trashed, and I don't have the cash to replace it right now. Besides, I've got some pretty big things on my plate. I'm just giving Sam the tour before we head home."

"Too bad, man. You were the best of us. Oh, funny I should run into you. A few days ago, two big guys in black came by looking for you at the surf shop. Got a bad feeling about them. None of us had seen you, so we couldn't tell them anything. Not that we would have. What's going on, man? You got yourself some trouble of the bad kind?"

I slipped into Rick's mind. "Do you remember what they looked like?"

I didn't listen to his answer. Instead, I memorized the images he pulled forward so I could draw them later.

Chills ran down my arms.
"People have found us? Already?"

'Guess so. Shit. I'm sorry, Sam. We never should have come back to my old stomping grounds.'

"It's not your fault. Where else would we have gone?"

"Hey, thanks for telling me, Bro. Appreciate it. But we've got to get going. Can you do me a favor and pretend you never saw me today? I don't know what these guys want from me, but I have a feeling it's nothing good."

Rick slapped Drake on the back and fist-bumped Brad. "Take care, man. I never saw you. Peace, Bro. Nice meeting you, Sam. Take care of my boy."

Rick walked away and soon became engrossed in conversation with two girls in bikinis who seemed very interested in his surfboard.

Once Rick was out of earshot, Drake said, "I think it's time we head to the police. We need to at least try."

I nodded. "Okay, let's go."

I ignored the smells tempting me from the shops. My stomach rumbled.
Now
would
be the time I got my appetite back.

As we rounded a building with a large mural, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A man dressed all in black stared at me from the corner. He didn't avert his gaze when we locked eyes. A chill traveled down my spine, and the baby kicked hard into my ribs. I grabbed Drake's and Brad's hands and pulled them around the corner and out of sight.

"Someone is watching us."

We hustled back to the car. I scanned minds to see if we stuck out to anyone, but didn't find anything. The man was gone. Had Rick made me paranoid or was someone really following us?

"Sam, who did you see?" Drake asked once we were safely in Brad's car and headed towards the police station.

"Male. Black pants and shirt. Bald, but not old—his head looked shaved to the skin. Brown eyes, I think."

Brad glanced at me. "Could you draw him?"

"Yes." I grabbed my purse, pulled out a sketchpad and pencils, closed my eyes and pictured the man in my mind. After a few minutes, a sketch of him covered the paper, detailed enough so any of us could recognize him.

"I can't believe how fast you did that. You
are
good!" Brad said.

"I told you, Dude, she's incredible. You should see some of the sketches she did of me before we'd even met in person. They're amazing!"

My face flushed at the compliments. My friends at Rent-A-Kid were used to my art. So were my teachers, for that matter. Being around new friends who found my talent impressive made me long for the life I had planned before I discovered the truth about Rent-A-Kid. Had the Sarah Lawrence College art program really accepted me? What would they say if I called to check on my application? Any chance my tuition was actually paid?

I mentally kicked myself in the head.
Of course not, dummy.
They never intended for me to leave the medical clinic. Why would they shell out money for an education I'd never use?

My old dreams were gone, and I needed a new plan, one that included Drake and our baby and, apparently, Brad. They loved it here, but did I? Would I want to stay in this area? The constant sun and Barbie Doll girls walking around didn't bother me... much. Maybe that would change. My pale skin and brown hair didn't exactly scream local, either, but whatever. If I couldn't handle being different from everyone else, I had bigger problems than hair color and lack of pigmentation.

I could get used to it here. The perfect weather, scent of salt-water and ever-present sound of crashing waves soothed me, even if I didn't love everything about Southern California. Like the sagging palm trees with their bloated hula skirts that lined the streets.
Why did people like them so much?
Palms had to be the ugliest trees ever.

Drake nudged me from the backseat. "What are you thinking about?"

"Can't you just slip in and find out for yourself?" I countered, more harshly than I'd intended.

He softened his voice. "Sometimes I like to have actual conversations."

"Thank you," said Brad. "Someone is finally considering
my
feelings in all this."

"Yeah, dude, because it's all about you," said Drake.

"Palm trees," I blurted out.

"Palm trees?" They both spoke in unison.

"Yes. Horrible, ugly, abomination of nature palm trees! That's what I was thinking about."

Drake laughed. "Here I thought it was something serious."

"This is very serious. Have you seen those things?" I gestured to the outside, where they all lived, hundreds of eyesores littering California's coastline.

At Rent-A-Kid, we had
real
trees: pines and aspens and Douglas firs, trees that stood tall and proud and filled the air with the heady scent of woods.

I missed my life there at times, as strange as that may have seemed. Life had been good, at least the parts that passed as normal for my friends and me.

I glanced down at the sketch in my hands. The scary man's eyes stared at me as if trying to read
my
mind.

Nothing felt normal anymore.

"Drake, I think it's time we tried to link to Luke and Lucy. We need to tell them what's going on."

"Are you sure you're strong enough? Last time it took you days to recover, and you've been sick for weeks."

The large man in the dark suit glared at Lucy. "Tell me about her friends. Who did she hang out with? Who would she contact on the outside for help?"

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her worst evil eye. Such a stereotype, as if he'd just walked off the set of
Men in Black
. He just needed the sunglasses to complete the look. "I've told you everything. Sam didn't know anyone on the outside. None of us do. How would we? As for her friends—we were it, and really only out of pity. She was a total loner. We felt sorry for her."

Mr. Black—
Could that seriously be his real name?—
was the new "Head Grunt" at Rent-A-Kid. His brown, high-and-tight crew cut screamed ex-military, as did the way he stood at attention and wore his suit as if it were a uniform. He towered over her, probably going for the intimidating look, his beady brown eyes staring at her over his crooked nose.

He slammed his meaty fist on the table. "Look, smartass, I've got a guy questioning your brother. I may not have super powers like you freaks, but I
will
find out if you're lying."

Lucy didn't flinch. "Luke will tell you the same thing. We hung out with her once in a while, to make her feel better. Yeah, she was our friend, but we didn't know she was planning to escape. I thought she was in New York. Why isn't she in New York, by the way? Why did she need to escape at all?"

The man reached for the gun in his holster, then moved his hand away when he saw Lucy watching him. Lucy waited for him to answer, to say anything.

His voice hovered on the brink of a scream. "I'm asking the questions here, not you. Who is her outside contact? She must have one. Tell me now!"

Lucy grumbled in frustration. He had to actually answer a question for her lie-detecting para-power to work. Either he knew that and avoided giving her what she needed, or he was just a pain in the ass naturally. She suspected both. "You can yell at me all you want, Mr. Black. I can't tell you what I don't know. Would you rather I make something up just to get you off my back?"

Behind her, a door opened and closed. Lucy turned.

The man who'd been sent to interrogate Luke stood with a creased brow, sweaty pits, and a frown that made Lucy fight back a laugh. It looked as though he'd had as much luck with her twin as Mr. Black had with her.
Bummer.

The two men stormed out of the room, taking copious amounts of testosterone with them.

Lucy leaned back with a tight smile and twirled her long dark ponytail around her fingers. She stared at the blank wall in front of her, unsurprised when Luke walked through it.

"That was fun!" His grin, so boyish and sweet, reminded her of their childhood, when they still had hope for a better future. Luke switched to their made-up secret language. "Oh cheer up, Sis. I'm sure Sam is fine. She'll contact us when she can. She just needs to rest a bit."

"I know. I just miss her like crazy. I miss her pale little face haunting the halls!"

Luke's head perked up like a puppy. "They're coming. Catch you on the flip side, Sis." He faded back into the wall, leaving Lucy alone in the stale room.

Mr. Black and his sidekick came back in, looking even meaner than they had before.

He growled at her with the face of a bulldog. "You and your brother have been less than helpful, but we have to let you go. However, know this: if you are hiding anything, it won't end well for either of you. Got it?"

Lucy stood and gave a mock salute. "Yes, Sir. Permission to return to my dorm, Sir."

Mr. Black balled his fists and looked about ready to swing.

Lucy knew she should feel fear, but couldn't muster it. Her world seemed more like a dream than reality. How could she be scared of a dream?

Before it could get ugly, Sidekick not-too-roughly ushered her out of the room.

Luke waited in the hall. The tasteful Tudor-style furniture of the office building had been cleared out shortly after Sam and Drake had escaped a month ago, replaced by a tacky military-like set-up to house the new grunts: metal desks and filing cabinets that lacked any class, footlockers for supplies, and wire cages that held weapons under lock and key. It looked like an old G.I. Joe board game had thrown up on their campus—grown men turned into war-playing boys.

There had been guards at the entrance before, but nothing so overt as now. They'd infiltrated her school like swarms of annoying ants, crawling all over the once pristine grounds.