Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (4 page)

He looked so ridiculous that I had to smile.
The sensation felt utterly foreign after faking it far too long.
Something inside me uncoiled, and I felt an odd surge of gratitude
for the unexpected release.

"I can't believe I'm actually considering
this," I said.

He grinned. "Just be careful of the phone,
alright? I just replaced it last week." He smile faded, and he
looked around. "Some psycho smashed the piss out of my last one.
Can you believe it?"

Oddly enough, I could.

A second later, he leapt behind me and called
out, "Ready?"

I didn't move. Sure, I owed Josie and all,
but how would this work? I looked down at my skirt. It was way too
short for what the guy was suggesting.

But then, almost before I knew what was
happening, I felt Shaggy's head plow between my knees and his hands
on my waist. "Hey!" I yelled, clutching his head for balance as he
lifted me skyward. "What are you doing?"

"The favor. Just like we talked about."

"Yeah, but—"

"Now c'mon. Get me some good stuff, will ya?
Remember," he said, "the car. Anyone pops out of it, get a shot of
'em, alright?"

Already, this had been one of the strangest
nights of my life. I glanced down, relieved to see my skirt – and
not my panties – pressed tight against the back of his neck.

If nothing else, at least I wasn't giving the
guy's neck a hoo-ha massage.

I shifted my gaze to the commotion, eager for
a laugh, or at least a distraction. There was only one problem.
What I saw there wasn't exactly the chucklefest I'd been hoping
for.

Wobbling on Shaggy's shoulders, I caught my
breath. Memories flashed in my brain. Two guys in ski masks. A dark
sedan. A knife at my throat. Concrete at my back. A gloved hand
mashed across my mouth.

Had it really been only just a few hours ago?
Unsteadily, I reached a hand to my throat. That knife, it hadn't
even been real. But it sure had felt real. My fear, that was more
real than anything – until a rescuer had shot out of the darkness
to change everything.

Lawton.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see his
face, a shadowed profile of unrestrained fury as he beat the living
crap out of the guy who'd been on top of me. If Lawton's brother
hadn't pulled him off, well, let's just say the guy's odds of
survival weren't looking too good.

Now, staring at that all-too-familiar
vehicle, my legs felt rubbery. It couldn't be the same car. It just
couldn't. And yet, something in my gut told me it was, in spite of
the car's new and oddly profane paint job.

Below me, Shaggy called out. "The hood – what
does it say?"

I looked around. It wasn't exactly a
crowd-friendly phrase. I glanced at the guy closest to us. It was
that older guy who'd been standing at the bar. My mouth opened, but
no words came out.

"Oh for Pete's sake," the older guy said,
"just spit it out, will ya?"

"Fine." I shot him a look. "Asshole
patrol."

His bushy eyebrows lowered. "Well, you don't
have to get all personal about it."

I rolled my eyes. "Not you. The car."

Below me, Shaggy called out, "Oh man, sweet!
That's what I thought. You got the video, right?"

Dutifully, I turned back to the car. I held
up the phone and pressed play.

"Make sure you catch everything!" Shaggy
called out. "The hood, the doors, whatever you can get!"

But I couldn't. Because I wasn't even looking
at the car. Not anymore. I was looking at a face in the crowd. I
knew that face. I knew it so well that my heart ached.

My mouth went dry, and I forgot to breathe.
The face looked haunted, with hollow eyes and a grim mouth.

Like some kind of pathetic sponge, I soaked
up the sight of him. He wore a dark hoodie with the hood thrown
back, revealing that tousled hair, those chiseled features, and the
barest hint of the tattoos that decorated his amazing body.

It was Lawton, the guy I loved. And the guy I
hated.

He wasn't looking at the car either.

He was looking at me.

A metallic, clattering sound jolted me back
to reality.

"Hey!" Shaggy hollered. "My phone! What'd you
do
that
for?"

I looked down, and there it was, the phone,
lying on the pavement a couple paces in front of Shaggy's feet.

Suddenly, I was practically body surfing as
Shaggy dove toward his phone. When he bent nearly double, I flew
off his shoulders, and my feet hit the pavement too hard to keep my
balance. I stumbled into the people ahead of me, who turned to give
me dirty looks.

Shaggy swooped up his phone and gave it a
good, long look.

"Damn it," he said. "This thing's brand
new."

My eyes were on the phone, but my thoughts
were on Lawton. What was he doing here? Had he come to see
me
?

"If it's broke," Shaggy said, "you'll get me
a new one, right?"

My jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding
me."

"Sorry, but it's only fair," he said. "You
were the one who dropped it, not me."

"Hey," I said, "
you're
the one who
told me to get up there. Remember?"

"Yeah. And I also told you to be careful."
His tone grew snotty. "Remember?"

"Oh shut up," I said. "It's fine." I looked
down. At least, it looked fine.

"Yeah?" he said. "Well, I'll need your name
in case it's not."

He wanted a name? Fine. I'd give him a name.
"Betty," I said.

It was the same name I'd given him earlier,
when I'd introduced myself as his waitress. Of course, back then
I'd been joking. Now, this was no joke.

Sure, he could get my real name if he really
wanted it. But until then, I was Betty. And I was gonna stay
Betty.

His gaze narrowed. "You don't look like a
Betty."

"Neither do you," I said.

His forehead wrinkled. "What the hell's that
supposed to mean?"

Honestly, I had no idea. I didn't care what
the guy's name was. I could barely remember my own. Lawton was
here. I wanted to run. To him? Or from him? My head felt on the
verge of exploding.

Across from me, Shaggy was typing something
into his cell phone, probably on some digital notepad. "And your
last name?" he said.

I crossed my arms. "Boop."

"No shit?" He shook his head. "Man, it
must've been hell for you growing up, huh?"

If he only knew the half of it. Of course, my
rocky childhood had nothing to do with what my parents had named
me, which definitely wasn't Betty. And besides, my last name was
Malinski.

Sure, the name wasn't the most glamorous in
the world, but it was better than being named after a cartoon
character.

"Poor kid," Shaggy said, looking down at his
phone. The digital notepad was gone, and I saw stills of the video
footage. His fingers flew across the tiny screen. Suddenly, he did
a double-take. "Holy shit," he said. "Is that who I think it
is?"

Oh crap. This wasn't good. I clamped my lips
together to keep from groaning.

"Check it out." Shaggy thrust the phone in my
face. "Lawton Rastor. Am I right?"

Reluctantly, I studied the video still. And
there he was, the man of my nightmares, the man of my dreams. He
stood a few paces behind the car, his hands thrust into the front
pockets of his dark hoodie. His gaze bored straight into the
camera.

At me.

How on Earth had I missed that? But I knew
exactly how. When I'd hit the play button, I'd been focused on that
car.

Oh shit. The car.

That thing was definitely the same car my
attackers had been driving. It had to be.

Had Lawton dropped it off? And if so, why
here? Why now?

In front of me, Shaggy was licking his lips.
"Oh yeah. It's totally him."

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Goes to show what you know." He
straightened. "I'm a professional. And I'm tellin' ya, it's him."
He grinned. "And you know what I say to that?"

Hell, I didn't even know what
I'd
say
to that. I shook my head.

"Cha-ching!" Shaggy slapped me on the back,
buddy style. "You know what, Betty? Tonight's your lucky night.
Because this little video's gonna make my rent."

My stomach was churning. "Yeah. That's me.
Lucky."

He grinned. "So, are you ready to take some
more?"

"Hell no," I said. "I'm not gonna make
that
mistake twice."

"Oh c'mon, Betty," he said. "Don't be that
way." He pulled out his puppy dog face and turned it on
full-force.

Some puppy. I felt like swatting him with a
rolled up newspaper. "No way," I said.

Not eager to be hoisted again, I turned and
plunged into the crowd, no longer caring whether there was room or
not.

Whatever was going on, it involved Lawton,
and it involved me. And, if my hunch was correct, it involved two
guys in ski masks who'd attacked me not that awful long ago.

Squeezing between the closely packed bodies,
I jostled my way forward, ignoring muttered curses and grunts of
disapproval. At least no one threatened to kick my ass. Well, not
that I noticed anyway.

Finally, I stood near the front of the crowd.
I looked to the spot where Lawton had been standing.

He was gone.

I scanned the scene in front of me, trying to
make sense of it. The police cruiser was parked on the opposite
side of the dark sedan. The lights were still flashing, giving the
faces in the crowd an odd, disjointed appearance as people craned
their necks for a closer look.

Two uniformed police officers stood behind
the defaced car. They studied the trunk with expressions that I
could only describe as perplexed.

I turned to the guy next to me, a lanky guy
in a black wool coat. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Not sure," he said. "Every time I try to get
close, the cops tell me to back off."

I glanced at the car. Something near the rear
was thumping. The thumping sounded familiar.

"Sweet!" said a voice behind me. "Something's
in the trunk. I'm betting it's mobsters. It's always mobsters."

Damn it. I recognized that voice. I turned
around, and there he was. Shaggy. He was holding out his phone
again, capturing whatever was in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I
said.

"Hey, you paved the way," he said. "I just
followed in your wake." He grinned. "Nice job with the elbows, by
the way. I could learn a thing or two from you."

Suddenly, my fondest wish was for the guy to
be gone. "What about your girlfriend?" I said, thinking of the
redhead. "Are you
ever
going back inside? That's a hint, by
the way."

"Yeah? Well what about my waitress?" he said.
"Is
she
ever going back inside?"

"Oh shut up," I said. "I'm not your waitress
anymore. They sent me home."

He shrugged. "That's the breaks, Betty."

With a sigh of irritation, I turned around to
face the commotion. The trunk was still thumping. Mobsters, my
ass.

A second later, Shaggy jostled his way
between me and Wool Coat. "I'm telling ya," he said, "ten bucks
says it's mobsters."

"You're on," I said. My gaze narrowed. "But I
wanna see the cash up front."

Shaggy made a show of patting his pockets.
"I'm a little short," he said. "Take an I.O.U.?"

"Hell no," I said.

Wool Coat spoke up. "No sense in betting," he
said. "It's not mobsters. It's just a couple of frat boys."

"Really?" I leaned around Shaggy. "How do you
know?"

"The police have been talking to 'em ."

"How?" I said.

"Through the trunk."

"If it's a frat thing," Shaggy said, "it's
gotta be Sig-Eps. Those dudes are totally whacked." He elbowed me
in the side. "Heh, whacked. Get it?" He chuckled at his own joke.
"See, maybe they
are
mobsters."

"If anyone's whacked," I said, "it's
you."

He beamed. "Thanks, Betty."

"It wasn't a compliment." I leaned toward
Wool Coat. "Why don’t they just open the trunk and get it over
with?" I asked. "What are they waiting for?"

Just then, a big tow-truck rumbled up behind
the police car, moving slowly to allow the crowd time to shift out
of the way.

Wool Coat pointed to the truck. "They're
waiting for that, I guess."

"Alright, people!" the shorter of the two
police officers yelled. "Everybody back!"

Soon, a burly guy with a beard emerged from
the tow truck. He grabbed a tool box from the back and approached
the officers. And then, flanked by them, he approached the back of
the car and went to work.

A few minutes later, the sedan's trunk flew
open. The crowd grew absolutely silent, waiting and watching. The
officers leaned in for a closer look.

Between them, the tow truck driver scratched
his chin. His eyebrows furrowed. "Now, that's a first," he
said.

Slowly, a couple of figures emerged from the
trunk – two half-naked men in ski masks.

At first, no one made a sound. And then, a
woman behind me snickered. That's all it took. A second later, the
crowd burst into laughter as the two guys stumbled out onto the
pavement.

Next to me, Shaggy was practically salivating
onto his phone. "Oh man," he said. "This is gonna be the best
payday ever."

Aside from the masks, the guys wore only two
things – bling and their underwear.

"Huh," Shaggy said. "You know what? I've got
underwear
exactly
like that."

I glanced at the guys. One wore striped boxer
shorts. The other wore tiny black briefs that left very little to
the imagination. I gave Shaggy a sideways glance. "Uh, the
boxers?"

Please be the boxers. Please be the
boxers.

"Wouldn't
you
like to know?" he
said.