Unleashed (24 page)

“Whoa,” he said, giving her a once-over.

Suddenly a bit shy, she twirled in a circle to show off her new dress. “You like?”

“I’m going to have to fight ’em off.”

She beamed at him as he took her hand and they walked toward the house. When they reached it, Trick stopped and turned to her. His sea-green eyes seemed to darken, lending them mysterious depths. Or maybe it was just the angle of the light or the way he was holding her hand that made her stop and really look at him. She was aware that something was shifting between them again.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, and she jerked, startled. It was as if he had read her mind. “We’re here, at a party, and we’re young, and it’s all good.” He tilted his head, his gaze never wavering, and then he took a step closer to her. She could feel the heat of his body, smell something good on his skin, like cinnamon. And all the need inside her rushed toward him. Sure and steady, but thrilling and death-defying, too.

Justin had crashed in on her, but Trick was different.

Then why am I thinking about that jerk right now?

Trick took a step back. Gave her a nod.

Then he opened the door and they walked into a much larger room than she would have expected, lit only by candles, and filled with a dozen people their age. A very tall, thin guy in a black duster and Doc Martens played an electric violin in time to the music.

Katelyn’s gaze went immediately to a girl in a shapeless black dress. She had tattoos on her bare legs and was wearing ballerina flats. She also had multiple piercings and her hair was a shade of blue-black that came only out of a bottle. She would have stood out from the others even if her face wasn’t blotched with tears.

“Trick,” she said in a strangled voice. She pushed past two guys and put her arms around him. She started to cry harder. He held her quietly and Katelyn hung back awkwardly, aware that the party guests were looking from her to Trick.

“Tina, I’m so sorry,” he said. The girl—Tina—kept crying and holding on to him, letting her head drop back almost as if she were inviting Trick to kiss her.

Sam walked over to Katelyn. She had short henna-tinted hair and was wearing a black velvet corset and leggings—not at all what anyone wore to school.

“Hi, Kat. How about something to drink?”

“Um, sure,” she replied, grateful for the distraction.

“Okay. Come to the kitchen and we’ll fix you up.”

Katelyn followed Sam into a cramped kitchen laden with bottles of wine, a scattering of hard liquor, and a cooler of canned sodas. She looked at Katelyn carefully. “We have every kind of liquor known to man. Lots of country kids start young.”

“Oh,” Katelyn said, feeling uncomfortable. She was an athlete and had never been able to drink.

“And … I figure you for something diet,” Sam went on tactfully.

At Katelyn’s nod, she dug around in the cooler and handed her a red can. Katelyn popped it open.

“Tina is Becky’s cousin,” Sam explained. “Tina’s family moved to Oklahoma during the summer. They came back to town for the service.”

Katelyn tried not to let the room tilt. Of course there would be a funeral. Ms. Brandao had handled the details of her mother’s funeral. For the “burial,” a small urn had been placed in a wall at the cemetery. After the formal memorial service, held in the Unitarian church on Eighteenth Street, Kimi, Kimi’s mom, and Katelyn had driven to Santa Monica Pier and thrown leis into the water, a custom many Southern Californians had adopted from Hawaii. She hadn’t wanted to throw hers in, hadn’t wanted to let go.

Sam grabbed a soda, too, opened it, and kept talking. “Are you going to the funeral? I know you just moved here.”

Katelyn’s arm froze midway to her mouth. “I—I don’t know.”

“Becky had this total thing for Trick. She used to tell people they were dating. Made up these stories about what he said, what they did. It was all one-sided. Trick had no idea what was going on. She finally came on to him and he tried to let her down easy. But she went ballistic and told all her friends that he’d used her and then dumped her.”

Katelyn was stunned. Trick hadn’t told her any of that. And he had been so shaken by her death. Cordelia’s dislike of Trick suddenly made sense.

“Why was she in the forest?” she asked Sam.

“She wasn’t in the forest,” Sam said. Then she looked hard at Katelyn. “There’s a lot more going on in Wolf Springs than most people want to admit.”

“What do you mean? Like what?” she asked, practically holding her breath. Katelyn set the can on the counter, eager for Sam to say more.

“Hey,” said a voice behind her. It was Trick. “Sorry about that.”

Katelyn swallowed, disappointed. She was positive that Sam wouldn’t finish what she was saying. The moment was gone.

“I filled her in on Tina,” Sam told him, picking up both their soda cans. “We should introduce her around.”

With Trick back at her side, she returned to the living room. Trance music was playing and Trick pulled her into the middle of the space where others were dancing. She went with the flow, moving her shoulders and hips, losing herself, until all she focused on was his face. Green eyes, bronze skin, angular features. She was holding her breath but couldn’t let it out. What would it be like to kiss Trick the same way Justin had kissed her?

I think I’m going to find out
, she realized. Every part of her felt tingly with anticipation.

He was looking at her looking at him. His face became serious, and he knit his brows. She blazed inside, excited and embarrassed at the same time, as if he could read her mind. She wished she could read
his
.

Suddenly he stumbled, losing the beat, then caught himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

His answer was a weak half smile—not the response she was looking for. He looked as if he was in pain.

“I’m okay,” he said, but if he meant to reassure her, his strained tone of voice did anything but. After a couple more beats, he abruptly turned away and left her.

She faltered, watching him head for the kitchen. She danced a few more steps, then stopped, looked around, and scooted to the side of the room. She could almost, but not quite, see into the kitchen.

She waited a little bit, and when he didn’t come back, she finally went to look for him. No one remembered seeing him in the kitchen. She checked other rooms. No one knew where he was, and she started to get anxious. Had he seriously ditched her in the middle of the party? Uncertainty turned to anger. Finally she found Sam coming out of a room in the hallway.

“Have you seen Trick?”

Sam raised her brows. “No, I thought he was with you.”

Katelyn shrugged but hesitated before moving on. “What was it you were about to tell me in the kitchen? About a lot more going on than people want to admit?”

A flush of red washed up Sam’s neck. She slid a glance down the hall as though to see if anyone had heard.

Katelyn persisted. “And if she wasn’t in the forest … when it happened, where—”

Sam hunched her shoulders. “Not now, okay?”

“But—”

“Tina’s freaking out. I have to take care of her,” Sam said.

Sam moved down the hall. Frustrated, Katelyn watched her go, then resumed her search for Trick. After another ten minutes, she decided to check outside and see if his car was still there. An autumn wind cut through her thin dress, lifting the hem, and she crossed her arms, shivering. The moon poured light down onto the top of his Mustang.

She blinked in surprise. He was sitting inside it.

As she walked toward it, she glanced at the passenger side. He was alone.

Gripping her arms to hold in a little warmth, she marched up to the driver’s side and knocked. He jerked, then peered through the window at her. He looked a little glassy-eyed, and she tensed. Was something wrong with him?

She could hear Cordelia’s voice:
Trick’s kind of unpredictable
.

The lock clicked; he opened the door and climbed out. It was as if he was a different person from the one who had greeted her earlier. He didn’t look glad to see her. If anything, he seemed angry. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, as if she was the last person he wanted to see. And that just enraged her more.

“Kat,” he said tersely.

“What happened? Are you trying to bail on me?” she demanded.

There was silence. He blinked, long black lashes brushing downward. Then he opened his eyes wide and looked at her square in the eye.

“You need to go,” he said flatly.

She felt as if he had slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“I-I’m sorry.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m not feeling well.”

Humiliation swept through her. Utter mortification. And shock.

“Look, if this hasn’t worked out for you …”

“
No
,” he said, exhaling, then running his hands through his hair. A vein in his neck was pulsing. A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Damn it, Kat, just go, okay?”

She wanted to die. She couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t his party; he had no say.

Without another word, she turned. Tears welled as she clenched her jaw and stomped back toward the house.

To her back, he yelled, “You don’t even know what you’re getting into!”

“Just shut up,” she muttered, too low for him to hear. She heard the car door slam.

Furious, she realized she had just walked past the front door.
Fine
. She half ran around the corner to the truck, yanked open the door, and hoisted herself inside. Hands shaking, she finally got it going, shifted into drive, and pulled forward.

She blasted down the street, still clenching her jaw.
Jerk, jerk, jerk
, she thought.

Then she saw headlights approaching the rear of the truck. So he was coming after her. Fine. But no way was she stopping or going back. Because no way did she want him to see that tears were spilling down her cheeks.

The headlights followed her onto the narrow, steep road leading out of town. Next stop would be the inky tunnel of trees, then deeper into the forest, where the wolf had attacked the Mustang with her in it. She cranked up the music on her iPhone and forced herself to sing along in an effort to calm herself down.

She drove for quite a while, making the turns she needed. Then the headlights behind her were gone.

She blinked. Had she taken a wrong turn? Frowning, she stared into the rearview mirror, willing Trick to reappear.

Or … maybe that wasn’t Trick. It was someone else, going some
where
else.…

Suddenly the truck lurched. She pulled her foot off the gas and could feel the sickening limping that signaled a flat tire. Heart in her throat, she pulled as far to the side of the road as she could without hitting any trees.

She glanced around uneasily. The woods were dark and foreboding, as they always were. She might still have cell coverage, but her grandfather couldn’t come get her. She had the only vehicle. She tried Ed’s number, but the call failed. Tried Cordelia. Same thing—maybe because of her low battery.

As she turned off the engine, she realized she was going to have to get out of the truck to replace the tire. She stared into the darkness, hating the way the headlights seemed to penetrate only a small portion of it. She cursed herself for leaving the party, and for not making sure that Trick had been the driver behind her.

She checked the glove compartment and was relieved to find a flashlight, which worked, but still didn’t want to get out. The thought of just sitting tight until the sun came up occurred to her, but she knew it was silly. There was no way she could sit there for hours. She needed to be home, safe. She took a deep breath and eased her door open. She sat for a moment, waiting, half sure that something would lunge at her from the shadows.

The night was full of the sounds of life, but none seemed threatening. In fact, most sounded welcoming, if not comforting—noises of crickets, frogs. She got out, leaving the truck door open so that she’d have more light and could climb in the cab quickly if she had to. She shined the flashlight around but didn’t see anything out of place. No glowing eyes stared at her from the trees.

She moved around to the back, where it felt like the flat was. Running her flashlight over the tire, she found a gash—like she’d run over a nail or a sharp rock. From the bed she retrieved the spare tire and a jack. She set about jacking up the left rear side. She’d learned to take care of her mom’s old Volvo from Mr. Brandao. He was keeping it for her until she came back to California.

As soon as she had the tire up in the air, she set about loosening the lug nuts. The first one wouldn’t yield and she finally stood on the bar, jumping up and down until it gave. She shook her head, wondering if her grandfather had been the last one to change the tire. Whoever it had been was incredibly strong. The next two loosened more easily, but the fourth required more hopping up and down until it finally gave with a groan.

And somewhere behind her, something
else
groaned.

She whirled, flashlight piercing the darkness. “Who’s there?” she called.

She couldn’t see anything, no matter how hard she strained. But she suddenly realized that around her everything else had gone quiet. Frogs, crickets, all silenced.

“This isn’t funny!” she shouted, hoping against hope that whatever had groaned was human. She struggled to steady the flashlight in her shaking hand as the beam jittered over the trees.

Only that same empty silence greeted her and it terrified her more than any sound she’d ever heard. She twisted back, yanking the dead tire free and tossing it into the bed.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she wrestled the new tire into its place. She moved to put on the first nut. A branch cracked right behind her and she jerked up, the nuts slipping from her hand into the piles of leaves that littered the road.

Her heart raced and she began to sweat even harder. Her heartbeat sounded thunderously loud in her ears and she panted out of fear and exertion.

“Who is it?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.