Kiss Me If You Dare

18

I paced my room the next morning. Denton had asked me to help with Ms. Rigg’s duties. But that meant I’d have to face him again. My feet tapped a rhythm across the wood floor, onto the plush rug, then again on the wood floor as I mulled the matter.

Something had changed between Denton and me. Lately, he’d seemed somewhat possessive. I felt the bite of an invisible chain around my ankle. He wanted me to stay. He insisted I stay. And somehow that made me want to go. Made me want to find the truth behind the questions he refused to answer.

Only two more weeks left in the semester. Then a few weeks off before the next semester began. What could it hurt to take a quick trip back to Michigan and just see for myself what was going on? Then I’d zip back in time to start the next round of classes.

I met up with Denton in the kitchen as he fumbled to make a pot of coffee.

“Let me help,” I offered and poured water into the brewer. With a glance in his direction, I seized the opportunity to chat openly. “I’ve been thinking about going home. For a short visit.” I set the carafe on the burner and pressed the power button. “Just a week or so to see how everyone is doing.” I swallowed hard at the thought of Brad.

Denton pounded a fist on the counter. “Are you out of your mind?”

Water dribbled into the decanter, its gurgling filling the momentary silence between us.

“Why do you think I paid Jane to keep quiet? One word of your whereabouts and you might have been the one at the bottom of the cliff.”

“But Frank Majestic must be behind bars by now.” Majestic was the drug pin I’d accidentally crossed when I helped my friend Candice LeJeune try to make a clean break from her past. Unfortunately, I’d been somewhat responsible for the death of one of Majestic’s leading distributors, who also happened to be his son-in-law, and ended up hiding his daughter and grandkids at my log home in the woods. Needless to say, the man didn’t like me much.

“Even if they’d caught him, metal bars don’t stop men like him.” Denton’s eyes blazed red.

“So how long does a contract last? It’s been almost six months. They must have forgotten about me by now.”

“Until you’re dead, Patricia.”

My skin crawled. I glanced around the kitchen for eavesdroppers. “No offense, but when you call me Patricia, I feel uncomfortable. Could you just stick to calling me Alisha, even in private?”

“Perhaps now you’re beginning to understand the threat to your life.”

“Define life. If it means hiding out ’til I’m ninety years old and pretending to be someone I’m not, then I’m not impressed. Life and freedom should go hand in hand. This is America.”

“Perhaps you’d think otherwise if life meant a bullet lodged in your spine and paralysis from the neck down.”

I weighed the option. “I suppose there are worse things than death.”

“If you take my advice, you’ll never have to find that out for yourself.”

I put my fingers to my temples and took a deep breath. “You’re right.” Another breath. “It’s not so bad here. I’ve actually got it pretty good.” I looked at Denton’s strong chin and determined brown eyes.

He smiled, victorious, eyes crinkling in the corners, kind of like Brad’s.

“Good girl,” he said. “You’ll make it just fine.”

I stared at him, the steam from my coffee swirled in the shape of a question mark.

“Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.” I took my coffee with me and walked out.

Maybe it was just my gypsy blood churning, but I was suddenly sick of Cliffhouse. I was sick of Del Gloria. While my surroundings might imply I was a princess in a castle, the truth was, I’d failed here just like everywhere else. I was done letting Denton or anyone else have power over my emotions and my life. I’d make my own choices from here on out. I didn’t owe him any explanation. I could do what I wanted. What I felt was best for me.

And that meant going home. But Denton didn’t have to know that. I’d finish out the semester, then hop on a bus and be home in time for Christmas. Six months’ exile was long enough. I’d take two weeks’ vacation in Michigan, then head back to California in time to start classes and keep working on our renovation project. It would be like I never left.

The next week passed uneventfully. Denton’s eyes followed me more than usual, as if trying to read my mind. But I kept a relaxed look on my face, enjoying the peaceful days before my road trip, comforted in knowing that he couldn’t possibly guess my plans.

Two days remained in the countdown. I waited for the opportune moment to share my plans with Portia and Celia.

“Hey, guys,” I said, scraping stain remover goo from the floor planks, “Just wanted to let you know I’m taking a short trip. I’ll be back right after break.”

“Where are you going?” Celia’s clear voice asked from over by the front windows. She held her scraping tool, filled with slimy gook from the sills, suspended for a moment.

I looked away. “Back to Galveston for Christmas.”

“Got your phone call, huh?” Portia asked without pausing her work.

“Kind of. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going.”

“Does the doc know?” This time Portia stared me down.

“No. And you’re not going to tell him.”

“Hmmm.” Portia’s body took on a “we’ll see about that” attitude.

“I mean it, Portia. Please don’t say anything. He’d be really upset.”

“Why? ’Cause you lied to him?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You just didn’t tell him the truth.”

“He can’t handle it.”

“Because he knows it’s not safe. If you didn’t get the phone call, then it’s not safe.”

“What’s going on here?” Celia tried to keep up with us.

I shook my head. “Nothing a few days in Mi-” I stopped before I said the word, “-Texas won’t solve.”

Portia stood, hands on hips. “Come here. We have to talk.” She grabbed me by the arm and hauled me to the tiny back bedroom. The door crashed closed behind us. She practically pinned my arms to the wall. “I know who you are.”