Shadow of the Storm Read online

  “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that.”

  I drive my elbow back as hard as I can. Air whooshes against my cheek and his arms relax enough for me to jerk away.

  I take a few big steps and whirl to face him. “Leave me alone.”

  A grimace spreads across his face as he slowly straightens, his arm pressed against the spot where my elbow connected. “Playin’ hard to get, huh? I like that.”

  Who’s playing? “You should go. Now.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it.” A series of moves, all of which could be classified as assault, flash through my mind. A foot to the groin, a jab at the throat, a karate chop to the head.

  More than that, I can see myself doing each move. I can almost feel it.

  How in the heck do I know all this stuff?

  “The only thing I’ll regret is leavin’ alone.” He edges closer.

  Okay. Full attack mode coming his way.

  “Hey, hon. You ready to head home?”

  I jerk at the sound of Zak’s voice. He’s approaching from the right, hands stuffed into his pockets, an innocent expression on his face.

  But I’m not fooled. Not once has he given me any impression that he’s interested in me.

  Heck, he sees his sister when he looks at me, not a potential girlfriend.

  No, he’s trying to bring a peaceful resolution by pretending we’re involved.

  Not that he couldn’t take this guy down. Zak’s a lot bigger and broader than this clown. He’s obviously not one to fight a battle if he doesn’t have to.

  I narrow my eyes at the stranger. “Fine. He was just leaving.”

  “We gonna have a problem here?” Zak steps between me and the other man and crosses his arms.

  Dang. Those biceps are about the size of my head.

  With his shoulders squared and his feet planted, Zak looks even larger than usual, his dark head looming over the other man.

  The man holds up his hands slowly. “No problem, man. Didn’t know it was like that.”

  The man slowly backs away, muttering something I have no inclination to hear, then yanks open the door and slides behind the wheel of the BMW.

  Zak doesn’t move until the car skids out of the lot.

  Once the vehicle is out of sight, I turn to Zak. “Pretty effective ruse.”

  Zak flexes his biceps. “Mo and Larry work every time.”

  He’s named his biceps? And I thought I was weird.

  His expression turns serious. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” No point in telling him that I could’ve handled things fine on my own.

  I think.

  “Glad to help. So, don’t think I’m a weirdo or anything, but how about I give you a ride home? A lot safer than walking by yourself at midnight.”

  He has a point. But why is he offering?

  Is he just being nice? Or maybe he plans to kill me and dump my body off a bridge.

  That’s stupid. Why would he do that?

  Still, I don’t really know him. Even that story about his sister could be a ruse.

  Shivers shake down my body and I don’t think they’re entirely from the cold. Accept the ride or walk? Which is riskier?

  Right now, it feels like walking. At the very least, it’s colder, and I’m feeling a little desperate for some warmth. “I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Sorry I didn’t offer earlier.” He gestures to a big black truck in the next row. The lights blink and the horn blips as he we approach. “So where do you live?”

  “The Grand Royal.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “You live at a casino?”

  “Short term. They cut me a good deal for the week and I haven’t found a more permanent place yet.” No point in mentioning that I haven’t exactly been looking, either.

  “Seems like a ritzy place.”

  “It is.”

  We reach the truck and climb in. The engine roars to life, settling immediately into a low rumble that vibrates through my body.

  “Pretty quick thinking back there, by the way.”

  Zak cranks the heat and shoots me a grin. “Right back at ya. In our line of work, we gotta be able to think on our feet, right?”

  “Definitely.” Think on my feet, huh? It’s kind of what I’ve been doing since I woke up in the back of that SUV.

  And it’s kept me alive. So far.

  ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ

  The window beckons me forward. I step up to the glass and stare.

  At myself. In what looks like a living room.

  How I can be both inside and outside the room, I have no idea, but that’s me. Sitting with my dad and Uncle Saul.

  Suddenly I’m not outside the room, but I’ve merged with the version of me sitting in the chair. A glass of Pinot Grigio is in my hand, inches from my lips.

  “I found a discrepancy.” Dad’s voice contains a severity that is uncharacteristic, even for him.

  What kind of discrepancy?

  It has to be business. Dad rarely talks about anything else, especially with Uncle Saul. And if they start talking business, I can already predict the direction this conversation will go.

  “What do you mean?” Saul’s bushy eyebrows drop over his eyes like fuzzy white caterpillars.

  “The numbers from September weren’t adding up so I dug a little deeper. It looks like we’re missing about fifty thousand dollars.”

  Saul stares at Dad. “You sure? I can’t believe I’d miss something like that.”

  Frankly, neither can I.

  Saul’s the CFO for Dad’s company, for crying out loud. More meticulous than anyone I know. There’s no way he could overlook a fifty thousand dollar variance.

  “I’m sure. It appears to have started in the spring. Small amounts each month. Let’s look at the figures tomorrow and see if we can find the leak.”

  Saul rakes his fingers through his silver-streaked hair. “I hope it’s just an accounting error. I’d hate to think one of our people could rip us off like that.”

  “Happens all the time to companies smaller than ours.”

  Dad’s voice is tight, his blue eyes squinty.

  This is bad. Both Dad and Saul are so careful. How could something like this happen?

  “Maybe we need to employ more family.” Saul shifts his eyes to look at me. “How ‘bout it, luv? Got an executive position with your name on it.”

  “Don’t waste your breath.” Dad’s steely voice contains a note of bitterness. “It just goes in one ear and out the other.”

  And here we go.

  I work to keep all defensiveness out of my voice. “I like my job.”

  What I really want to say is that he needs to leave me alone. I’m good at my job. It’s way past time for Dad to respect my decisions and let me live my own life.

  In spite of the words running through my mind, I keep my mouth shut.

  Besides, it doesn’t matter what I say. This argument has come up more times than I care to remember.

  “You’d make a whole lot more money with us.” Saul sounds like a car salesman trying to sell me on the upgraded model.

  “Money isn’t everything.” Too bad I know that argument will fall on deaf ears.

  “Evidently, neither is family.”

  Ouch. Dad really knows how to strike a blow.

  Before I can respond, he continues, “I’d planned to give the business to you one day, but you can’t be bothered with it.”

  An apology lingers in Saul’s eyes, but he does nothing to change the subject.

  Honestly, I know whose side he’s on anyway. He wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.

  I close my eyes, wishing I could shut out Dad’s disapproval as easily. Why can’t he be proud of who I am? Is not wanting his business really such a bad thing?

  A drop of water hits my face. My eyes fly open.

  I’m back outside the window. Inside, nothing has changed. I still sit
in the chair, dad and Saul across from me.

  Yet I’m not in there, I’m out here.

  How’d I get out here?

  I blink.

  The living room is gone.

  A brick wall, covered with graffiti, rises in front of me.

  Rain pours down. A gust of wind whips it against my face, carrying the odor of old smoke and some ashes from a charred car resting only a few feet away.

  A gunshot shatters the silence. The bullet embeds into the side of the abandoned car with a dull clunk.

  At the end of the alley looms a large shadow.

  I don’t need to see him to know who he is. Nor do I need to see the gun in his hands.

  I run. Around a corner, down another alley, around another corner.

  The maze seems unending.

  I make a sharp left and crash into a blonde woman. We tumble to the asphalt. Surprisingly, there’s no pain. She must’ve cushioned my fall.

  “You have to run!” I push away from her. “He’ll kill you! He’ll kill us both!”

  Ratty clothes cover her body and tears streak the dirt on her cheeks.

  She grabs my arm. Black cakes the fingernails on her hand. “I did everything you asked me. Why can’t I go to the ball?”

  The ball? What is she talking about? I don’t even know her! “I think you’re confusing me–”

  “I just want to meet the prince!” The words come out on a wail.

  She’s crazy. And she’s going to get us both killed.

  I pry her fingers from my arm and shove myself to my feet. “Run! Before it’s too late.”

  She shows no sign of moving. Instead, she sits in a puddle, buries her face in her hands, and sobs.

  Maybe he won’t kill her. Either way, I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

  Her wailing fades into the blackness behind me as I round another corner. A door opens on the building to my right. A man wearing a purple robe steps out. In his hands is a woman’s shoe, translucent… glass?

  “Is this your shoe?” He holds the shoe toward me hopefully.

  “No.” I edge past and keep running.

  “Please! I must find the maiden who can wear this shoe!”

  His voice grows faint as I continue down the alley, which seems darker now than it had a minute ago.

  My chest aches. My legs burn. How much longer can I keep this up?

  I have to find someplace safe.

  Three figures rise out of the darkness in front of me.

  A scream rips my throat and I skid to a stop.

  The figures approach. It’s an older woman and two younger ones who closely resemble her.

  The older woman puts her hands on her ample hips. “I thought I told you to stay home.”

  I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. One of the girls is already speaking. “Puh-lease. You aren’t even dressed for a ball.”

  “Hey! That’s my scarf!” The other girl reaches for me.

  I push past the three of them. The women shriek, but don’t try to stop me.

  The darkness seems deeper than ever. The rain flows in waves, so heavy that if the darkness wasn’t obscuring my vision, it would.

  My foot catches on something and I fall.

  And fall.

  And fall.

  Never hitting the ground or anything solid, just freefalling into nothingness.

  My eyes flip open and I jerk upright.

  No rain. No alley. No crazy people trying to stop me. Just me, alone in my hotel room.

  Sheets tangle around my body, the fabric sticking to me.

  My heart pounds so loudly that I’m sure the people in the next room can hear it. Short breaths gasp from my mouth as if I’d just run the marathon I had in the dream.

  No, not a dream. Nightmare.

  But it was more than a nightmare. Memories.

  I’m not sure what was up with the people I ran into in the alley, but there’s something familiar about them. I think they’re part of a movie or story or something.

  They may be fictitious, but the other part of the dream is very real.

  I remember Uncle Saul. He’s not British, but he always calls me luv. He has for as long as I can remember.

  Which, admittedly, is not long.

  Moreover, he’s not really my uncle. Not by blood. He and dad have been friends since the first grade and formed some kind of informal brotherhood. Maybe because dad doesn’t have any brothers and Uncle Saul’s brothers all picked on him, I don’t know for sure.

  But what I do know is that Uncle Saul is real. My dad owns a large company. Uncle Saul works for him.

  And my life doesn’t live up to dad’s standards.

  Why?

  The answer is as elusive as everything else about my life. All I know is that I’m closer to Uncle Saul than I am to my own father because his love doesn’t hinge on whether or not I follow his plans for my life.

  I don’t work for my father, but what do I do? What could possibly be so bad that dad would hate me for it?

  ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ

  “Stormy.” I look up from the table I’m wiping down as Charlie heads my direction.

  Walking half a step behind him, moving with the natural grace of a dancer, is a guy who looks to be about my age. Shiny auburn curls brush the tops of his ears and he bears an easy smile that I can’t help returning.

  But it’s his intense green and hazel eyes that arrest my attention. In them, I see both an innocence and a knowledge that is far greater than someone our age should have.

  Or maybe I’ve officially lost my mind.

  I mean, really. That’s crazy, right?

  “This is Malachi. Normally I wouldn’t put a new server with someone who just started, but you did so well last night that I think you can handle it.”

  Seriously? He’s going to stick one newbie with another?

  I have enough to worry about without having to babysit, too.

  I want to argue, but can’t find the words. Charlie is the boss, after all. Arguing with the boss is rarely a wise plan.

  Besides, there’s safety in numbers, right?

  “Hey, Malachi.”

  Great. My tone is anything but welcoming. It’s not his fault that Charlie decided to have me do the training tonight.

  I wonder why he’s not having Sam do it.

  “Hi Stormy. What a rockin’ name.” Malachi’s handshake is firm, his smile containing enough warmth to put me at ease, but not so much that it’s creepy.

  “Thanks.”

  Charlie limps away, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual, and leaves the two of us to finish getting my section ready for customers.

  “This is a great place. I’m stoked to get started.”

  His enthusiasm is electric. Raw energy bleeds from him.

  I can’t help smiling at his almost childlike anticipation. There’s something about this guy, something magnetic.

  Crazy as it sounds, I kind of want to hang around him.

  Could he have some kind of connection to my past? Maybe he knows me. Although, if he did, wouldn’t he say something?

  More likely, I’m simply lonely enough that I don’t want to actually be alone.

  I walk him through everything that Sam showed me last night and let him assist me with a few tables before turning him loose.

  Sink or swim, buddy.

  Even so, I stay close, helping him place, fill, and deliver orders, keep up on refills, and process the checks.

  As we clear a table during a lull, I glance over at him. “You’re handling things like a pro. Have you done this kind of work before?”

  Malachi shakes his head. “Nah. But I’ve done a lot of odd jobs so I’ve learned to adapt.”

  Adapt, huh? If I were half as… adaptable… I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in. “Well, you sure do it well.”

  “Thanks.” He places plates and silverware in the bin. “How about you? You seem pretty comfortable for only one day on the job.”
r />   “I’ve worked other food service jobs in the past. Once you get the basics down, it’s just a matter of learning the specifics of each company.”

  “Well, this seems like a pretty good company.”

  “Better than some of the ones I’ve worked for in the past.” I’m guessing. I don’t really remember any of them. Or if they even exist.

  Maybe I’m the adaptable one after all.

  The bar begins to pick up and Charlie moves me there.

  I’m just starting to find my groove when two police officers walk in.

  They’re here for me!

  The thought flashes into my mind with no logical reason why it should be true. A fist squeezes my lungs and weight settles in my stomach.

  Images flicker through my mind.

  A cop, in full uniform. Pointing a gun at me.

  Not just images. Memories. Tumbling over each other as they invade my mind.

  I remember putting my palms against the wall. The feeling of hands running down my sides and legs. The way they paused when he found the gun strapped to my ankle and the knife at my hip.

  The cold steel of handcuffs cinching around my wrists.

  I blink the memories away. The room comes back into focus and I find one of the cops looking at me.

  I can’t let them take me!

  Maybe there’s still time to get away.

  The other man scans the room and the one who was watching me looks away, but I feel no relief. Once they’ve assessed any possible threats, they’ll be back. They’ll arrest me and hand me over to the two men who tried to kill me so they can finish the job.

  That’s stupid. Why would they do that?

  Protect and serve right? Turning me over to those men achieves neither goal.

  After a minute of scanning, the cops approach the bar.

  And me.

  Play it cool.

  There’s no reason they should be here to find me.

  I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t think. In spite of the piles of cash securely locked in my hotel room.

  I mix table five’s drinks and set it aside for Sam to take back to the restaurant.

  The cops’ stares are heavy. I feel the weight of them, the weight of speculation, as they draw closer.

  Will it look suspicious if I make a run for it?

  Glancing up, I paste on a smile. “Evening, officers. Can I get you something?”