Wrath - 4 (20 page)

It was pitch black inside the mine. But Reed didn’t need to explore. When he was a kid, he’d spent hours blundering around in the dark, holding a flashlight up to his head like an old-time miner. He could’ve gotten himself kil ed.

This time, he just stepped far enough inside the darkness to make everything disappear, then sat down, his back pressed against the cool, dank wal .

What did she want from him?

Why did he even care?

His father wanted him to confess, and had already made it clear that he’d throw Reed out of the house if he got expel ed.

Then what?

Reed wished he could light up a joint, since that was the best way to drive the questions away. A few puffs and he could sink into the worry free zone and forget it al . But you didn’t sneak into an old mine and light a match—not if you cared about staying alive.

There were other ways to forget. Reed closed his eyes—though there was no light to shut out—and leaned his head back against the wal . He could almost hear the sounds of an earlier time: pumping, clanging, chugging, grunting, rhythmic grinding of steel on steel. That was why he liked it here: The place was ful of ghosts, and it was easy to imagine you were one of them, fading into the past, al your problems long solved, your decisions made, your life lived.

Reed knew he’d eventual y have to get up, walk out, and
do
something. He couldn’t just hide there in the dark, waiting for his problems to pass. But it was tempting to imagine the possibility, just for a while.

He’d never been afraid of the dark, just like he’d never been afraid of dying. As far as he was concerned, darkness was easy. Leaving it al behind was a piece of cake. The hard part came when you turned on the lights and had to face the day.

Kaia wasn’t sure she owed Powel an apology, and she hadn’t decided whether she wanted to give him another chance or whether the time had come to make a clean break from both of the men in her life. Al she knew was that she needed to see him, and didn’t know why.

The uncertainty had driven her straight to his doorstep.

“Kaia,
ma chérie.”
He swung the door open before she had a chance to knock. “I’ve been expecting you.” The last time Kaia had been in the cramped bachelor pad—
every
time, in fact—she’d headed straight for the bedroom, which was large enough to fit Powel ’s sagging mattress and not much else. This time, she sat on the futon. It was burnt orange, inherited from the previous tenant. Powel squeezed in next to her, and Kaia wil ed herself not to inch away.

There was one question answered: She didn’t want him back. His pathetic threats had twisted Kaia’s attraction into an instinctive repulsion.

“I knew you’d be back,” he leered, fondling a strand of her hair.

She slapped his hand away. “I didn’t come here for that,” she informed him.

“What, then?”

“It’s over,” she told him. She was certain now of what she wanted, but uncertain about too many other things—like why she’d felt so safe with Reed, even knowing what she knew, and why, sitting here on this familiar futon with her horny but harmless ex, she felt a shiver of danger.

Powel sighed. “Haven’t we danced to this song before?”

“Don’t be—”

“Cute. I know.” He tried to put an arm around her, and she jumped up off the futon, unsure why she felt so jittery, but wil ing to trust her instincts. “What? Are you stil going on about that stalking thing? I told you, not my style.”

“No, I know it wasn’t you …”

“And you can’t seriously stil think the Sawyer boy is a reasonable option—not after what happened yesterday.”

“How do you know about—”

Powel shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “I was there when they tossed him out of school. Very sad case, that. So tragic to see a young man just throw his life away, and al on a nasty little prank.”

Now Kaia sat back down again, taking Powel ’s hands in her own and trying to smile. This had al worked out a little too wel , especial y for him. “Jack, tel me something.” She raised a hand to his temple and wound a finger around one of his chestnut hairs, curling it idly as she spoke. “How did you know about me and Reed, real y?”

“I told you,
ma chérie,
I just knew. I could tel .”

She leaned toward him, brushing her lips lightly against his cheek, trying not to gag on the overpowering scent of his cologne. “You were watching, weren’t you? It’s okay, you can tel me. It’s kind of a turn-on.”

“Wel , since you put it that way …” Powel traced his fingers down the side of her face and began lightly massaging her neck. Kaia tried not to jerk away. Then his fingers closed down on her skin, pinching her shoulder. He pushed her away from him, holding her in place like a vise. “What kind of an idiot do you take me for? ‘Oh, Jack,’” he simpered in imitation,

“‘tel me al about how you love to watch me when I’m alone, how you’ve been fol owing me, how you love to see me weak and scared. Tel me everything, Jack, it’s
such
a turn-on.’ If you want to know something, Kaia, just ask.”

“You took the photos,” Kaia said. It wasn’t a question.

“No point in lying now, is there?”

“And the car.”

“Mea culpa.”

“You planted the spray paint in Reed’s locker,” she realized, the pieces al fal ing into place.

“A master stroke,” Powel preened. “And yet you waltz in here ready to toss me away anyway, stil loyal to that piece of scum no matter what he does. ‘Stand by my man’ real y doesn’t become you, dear.”

“You’re going to fix it—you know that, right?” She couldn’t let them throw Reed out of school, especial y now. The memory of pushing him away the day before rose in her like bile. “You’re going to get him out of trouble.”

“Or what?”

It was funny. Yesterday, when she’d thought she’d learned the truth about Reed, she’d felt empowered. But now, confronting the real threat, it was al she could do to force herself not to flee. “Or I sic my father on you. At school, it may be your word against mine, but if Daddy Dearest finds out that some perv has laid a finger on his darling daughter, what do you think he’l do?”

“Come at me with a basebal bat?” Powel sneered. “I’m trembling.”

“Come at you with a team of lawyers,” Kaia corrected haughtily. “Get you fired, deported, jailed—he’l get whatever he wants. He’s just like me that way.”

“Is he real y ready to drag his baby girl’s name through the mud?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Though I doubt he’l have to, once his team figures out how you ended up in Nowheresvil e, USA, in the first place. We al know it wasn’t by choice.

What are you wil ing to do to keep that skeleton safely hidden in the back of your closet?”

Powel flinched, and Kaia suppressed a smile. Her hunches were never wrong. Jack Powel had obviously stuck his hands somewhere they didn’t belong—and gotten burned.

“You real y care about this loser so much?” he asked.

“I think the real question is, do you?” Kaia stood up. “Are you wil ing to risk it al , just to screw with him?”

“I’d rather screw with you,” Powel said. “It would be a much more pleasant way to handle this.You stay here with me now, and in the morning, I’l smooth things over for your little playmate.”

Kaia darted her eyes toward the bedroom. “You’re suggesting … ?”

“Don’t play coy,
mon amour
. You know exactly what I’m suggesting. Just think of it as—what’s that they say here? ‘One more for the road.’” It would be nothing she hadn’t done before … and it
would
be a much easier way of getting Reed out of trouble than involving her father, who was sure to make a huge deal out of everything, but—

Even the thought of touching Powel again fil ed her with revulsion. She couldn’t whore herself out like that, even for Reed.

“Thanks, anyway, but I’l pass.” She grabbed her purse from the couch, but he curled his fingers around it as wel , suddenly yanking it toward him and pul ing her off balance. His other hand clamped down on her wrist and pul ed her back down to the futon, onto his lap.

He leaned over and kissed her, mashing their lips together and thrusting his tongue against her teeth, which were gritted together so hard, she thought they might snap.

“I
told
you to be nice to me,” he growled, his breath sour and hot on her cheek. “I gave you every opportunity.” They wrestled for a moment, Kaia squirming and pul ing, Powel ’s hands locked tight on their prey, his muscles—the ones she’d so admired, compact, but like steel—forcing her down on her back, knocking the back of her head against the metal bar of the futon, pinning her arms behind her head.

“One more for the road,” he repeated as an unfamiliar sensation swept through her. Panic. “I think I deserve that much.” Adam did his best to behave himself at basketbal practice—but once practice ended, he was ready to step out of bounds. Forget trying to earn back a certain someone’s trust

—he was done with women.

Correction: done with relationships. They’d done nothing but cause him pain, and al because he’d been thinking of other people when he should have been thinking about himself. He’d been slow to learn his lesson, but he’d learned it wel .

Look out for number one—and right now, number one wanted some fun. Lucky for him, practice had been pushed back two hours since half the team was stuck in detention al afternoon. That meant missing dinner—but it also meant sharing the court with the cheerleaders. And now that he was back on the market, he was already their top priority.

Time to make someone’s day,
Adam thought. The inner voice, cocky and cruel, didn’t sound like him. It sounded like … Kane. So much the better, Adam resolved. Kane was happy. Kane didn’t lie awake nights cursing the way his life had turned out. And Kane, his only previous competition, was mysteriously absent from practice.

More for me.

As the coach blew the final whistle, Adam scooped up the bal and dribbled it down toward the bouncy bimbos, who had just finished their last tumbling routine. He heard a few hoots of encouragement from the guys before they headed into the locker room.

“Adam, you were playing so great out there today!” one of the new cheerleaders gushed. She was cute, with an almost frighteningly wide grin, and seemed vaguely familiar.

“Total y awesome!” another chimed in. She, too, seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her. “We almost screwed up our cheers because we were so busy watching you. Oh—” Her face turned red, and she burst into giggles. “I mean … we were watching the team.”

It was the “we” that gave it away. Individual y, they had cute but total y forgettable faces. Together, Adam would know them anywhere as the joined-at-the-hip sophomores who’d been fol owing Harper around al year, worshipping at the feet of their goddess of cool. Harper claimed to detest them, and refused to learn their names, instead, dubbing them Mini-Me and Mini-She. Adam had always suspected that she loved the attention they lavished on her, vapid and giggly as it might be. They were her clones, her property—

They were perfect.

“Glad you liked the show,” Adam said. Smile, he instructed himself, struggling to dig up the flirting skil s he’d once had, before Beth. His mother had always told him he was a charmer—though she’d never made it sound like a good thing. He’d put that part of him up on a shelf somewhere for two years, but now it was time to dust it off, get back in on the action. “But you know, it’s a team effort.”

“Oh, the team would be nothing without you!” Mini-Me gushed. (Or was it Mini-She?)

“You’re the star.”

Adam sighed. Something about this felt wrong. You’re just out of practice, he assured himself. After al , he’d thrived on this kind of attention for years before meeting Beth; there was no reason he couldn’t turn back the clock and enjoy some meaningless fun. Or, at the very least, there was no reason he couldn’t go through the motions and pretend he was enjoying himself—sooner or later, it would have to turn into the real thing, right?

“So … I guess since you girls go to al the games, you must see al our mistakes,” he said, flashing a modest smile.