Hush Money (20 page)

“Where is Joss, Kat? What happened?” I
demanded.

“She—Marco—help her!”

“Where?”

Eric had loosened his hold, and Kat panted,
“At the construction site. I think he’s gonna kill her.” She
pointed back the way she had come, turning, but as soon as she took
a step her ankle folded and she started to go down. Eric caught
her.

“I got this. Go on,” I heard him say, but I
was already racing through the trees.

They seemed so far off when I saw them, and
even though I was running all out, it wasn’t fast enough. They were
two dark-haired figures trading savage blows, and I couldn’t
believe one of them was Joss, taking him on like that.

She dodged and blocked like a professional
fighter. Looking at Marco, I could see he wasn’t holding back, and
that he was driving her backward across the site. He was landing
blows that should have knocked her on her ass, worse, but she just
kept going. Still I was terrified, thinking that he must be holding
something back, he must be, and soon he’d get tired of playing with
her…

She dodged, moving out of the fight and
turning, leaving herself open. Nearby, a huge dumpster shot up and
flipped over as it whizzed toward them. Then it suddenly fell,
bouncing once in the dirt and my eyes shot back to the fight.

Joss’s body was just coming to a skidding
halt several feet from where they’d been fighting. Her body went
limp. It was a moment where the whole world seemed to stop, as if
it just couldn’t keep going, and yet it was. Even my legs were
still moving as if everything but my mind knew that the world was
still turning.

Marco fell on her, straddling her body with
his knees on either side of her chest. He slapped her hard across
the face. I felt a fresh burst of rage as he struck her, and on its
heels a nearly overwhelming relief to see her move beneath him.
Then his hands wrapped around her throat and relief and hope were
obliterated by the return of panic.

I didn’t stop to yell at him, I just poured
what little speed I had left into my sprint, pushed off from the
ground, and launched myself at him.

* * *

Joss

It was a streak of moving air and dark colors
that knocked Marco aside and brought oxygen back to my world again.
For the barest instant I thought maybe I had done it, that in my
last moments my mind had gathered the last of its power to reach
out a find a weapon to save me. But as my head fell limply to the
side I saw two bodies rolling in dirt. And when they separated, as
they gained their feet, I saw that it was Dylan, covered in dust,
and taking a quick step back from Marco, planting his feet and
raising his fists.

Dylan. Bent on suicide.

“You sure you wanna do this, buddy?” Marco
asked derisively.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“How’re you gonna do that? Come on, Dylan.
Give it up. We’ve been friends a long time, and I can use a guy
like you. You know that. Let’s not do this. Not over a girl.
Especially not over that girl.”

Dylan’s fist flew. It connected with Marco’s
face hard enough to send Marco stumbling back. They both stood
there for an instant, stunned. Then Marco retaliated, a blow we all
knew should have knocked Dylan out into the middle of next week.
Without thinking I threw up a block, as though I’d been trained for
it the way I’d been trained to protect myself. Marco’s swing
hesitated as it hit my block, and by the time it actually pushed
through, Dylan had dodged the worst of it. It hardly phased
him.

“Fucking bitch,” I heard Marco say as Dylan’s
gaze flicked my way, questioning.

And then they were in it.

They circled each other, trading a series of
quick blows. Dad had made me watch a lot of fights on TV, teaching
me about telegraphing and what to look for, and it was just like
that. From back here I could see nearly everything Marco was going
to do before he did it, and throw up a wall to protect Dylan from
the worst of it. I didn’t have it in me to pelt him with rocks or
fly in even so much as a stout stick to help out. But by absorbing
the force of Marco’s supernatural blows with my own Talent, I could
make it more of an even fight between two boys who were really
pissed.

I couldn’t lend any more force to Dylan’s
punches, but I didn’t have to. He was just whaling on the guy he
was still calling his best friend a few days ago. He was taking
some hard hits; I could tell he felt them from the way his body
reacted, but he shrugged off the blows and kept coming back,
harder.

They didn’t speak to each other. There were
no sounds but the scrape of dirt under boots, the thuds of flesh
hitting flesh, and the grunts that accompanied. The sound of the
blood pounding in my head as I fought through the pain to stay in
it too, knowing that if I couldn’t help Dylan, it would be over for
both of us.

On and on they fought, with time stretching
out, every punch I tried to block feeling like a giant screw
turning in my skull, and every hit Dylan took feeling like a knock
to my own heart until I almost couldn’t breathe. I promised myself
I’d let myself cry about it later, when I was alone, if I could
just stay with it a little bit longer…

They were both wearing down, hurting. Marco
was starting to weave, and I could actually see the moment when
Dylan realized it, a new determination washing his features, and a
new energy in his next attack. A few quick jabs and then he landed
a vicious blow to the side of Marco’s head, one that whipped it
sideways. Marco staggered away, righted himself. Spat blood. Dylan
stepped in with a savage gut punch that drove Marco to one knee,
gasping for air.

Marco clutched his middle, breathing in
ragged, shallow pants. Dylan could end it now. Another head shot
from that angle would put Marco out. But he stood there, fists
still raised, waiting.

“You broke my goddamned ribs, Marco wheezed.
“I can’t believe what a fucking traitor you turned out to be. I’ve
called you my best friend my whole life and you turn on me for a
chick. A freak chick. God
damn
you!”

“I didn’t turn on you, Marco. You turned on
me when you decided you owned me. When you decided that what you
couldn’t get by playing on our friendship, you should try to get
with threats and intimidation. You’re out of control, and it’s not
just about Joss or me, it’s Rob, Krista, Kat—everyone and anyone
else you’ve tried to destroy. You’ve got to be stopped.”

“And you think you’re the one to do it? You
think you can stand in my way?”

“I should have tried, a long time ago. Maybe
if I had stood up to you years ago you wouldn’t be who you are
now.”

“Puh-leez. Don’t overestimate yourself.”

“What I’m finally finished doing is
overestimating you. You’re not even capable of being a human being
anymore and I’m done.”

Marco pushed back to his feet, pale and
holding onto his ribs. He swayed and then steadied.

“No you’re not. I’m just getting started, and
you’re going to find that you can either do things my way, or this
is just going be round one, and next time—”

“You wanna go for round two right now?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Don’t think a
few broken ribs or that stupid video changes anything,” he said,
turning slightly to include me in the conversation for the first
time. “I’m gonna own this town and everyone in it. And it’s gonna
happen sooner than you think.”

“How did you get so completely deluded?” I
asked, trying to get enough venom into it that I wouldn’t sound so
weak.

He actually grinned, showing a mouthful of
bloody teeth. “Time will tell, won’t it?” He wheezed. He started
backing away, then just turned and started to limp off.

I watched Dylan gather his reserves of
strength and take the first few steps to follow. Hadn’t he had
enough? He had to be punch drunk crazy. “Dylan,” I called, even
though it hurt to take in enough air to make myself heard. I was so
scared he wasn’t going to hear me or wasn’t going to listen to
reason.

The next moment he was kneeling beside me,
yanking me into his arms so fast the world grayed again.

“Ow!”

I’ll admit I had fantasized about Dylan’s
fingers in my hair but…

“No blood,” he said, looking at his hand.
“Your pupils look about the same size, that’s a thing, right?”

That would be the
him staring into my
eyes
part.

“How many fingers?”

“Would you leave me alone? I’m fine.” At his
doubtful look I added, “Mostly. What about you?” I wanted to reach
out to touch him, but, yeah, head injury or no, I just didn’t have
the guts for that. Something inside my head was wanting to replay
the whole scene and point out how Dylan had charged to my rescue.
Which I think explained why I kept wanting to faint. And since that
was too girly to contemplate, I knocked that something around until
it shut up.

“I’m ok. A couple bruises. Nothing cracked,
nothing broken. I can’t believe how—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted. “I can’t believe he
held back like that. In the end I guess your friendship meant more
to him than we thought.”

Dylan gave me a searching look. I wondered if
he could guess that I’d been protecting him, or if there was any
hope he’d buy the Marco’s Mercy angle. You’d think by that time I
would have totally trusted him. Maybe I did. Maybe it was just that
I didn’t want him to know I was a freak. Not for sure. Or maybe it
was just habit.

“You scared the crap out of me,” he told me.
His demeanor had changed. His voice was lower, slower. He was
stroking his thumb against my cheek for no reason I could figure
out, and even looking at me differently, like softly, but still
intense. His eyes dropped to my mouth. “I can’t believe you took
him on like that. What were you thinking?”

I was thinking about you.

I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t breathe.

Then my eyes fell closed when his mouth
touched mine. Brushed, then lightly pressed. I had no idea a kiss
would feel like this. The world seemed to tilt and everything slid
away. There was nothing but Dylan, his arm around me, the hand that
cupped my face, the hardness of his chest, and the crazy beat of
his heart under my hand. The incredible softness of his lips as
they moved against mine.

A car horn made us both jump, and we saw
Eric’s car bouncing across the dirt. That explained how Dylan had
found us. And if they’d started looking where Eric had dropped us
before, he would have had to drive all the way around the trees
that bordered the southern side of the site. The car braked and Kat
jumped out, stumbled, and caught herself on the door. Then she
hurried, a bit more carefully, toward us.

“Oh my God, is she ok?”

At that point I think I was more likely to
die from embarrassment and confusion than from any injury.

“I’m fine. Worry about Rambo here. He’s the
one who came racing to my rescue and beat on Marco until he went
home in tears.”

Dylan snorted. “That’s not exactly how it
happened. And we theorize he was going easy on me.”

Kat looked from me to Dylan and back, her
eyes narrowed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “we were trying to
decide if Joss has a concussion and should go to the hospital. I
vote hospital.”

“Seconded!” by Kat.

“Vetoed,” by me. “Look, guys. You know I
can’t do that. My dad…”

“Hey, here’s your shoe,” Eric said, joining
us. “Joss, how many shoes am I holding up?”

“One sorry excuse for footwear that almost
got this girl killed. I knew those things were dangerous. Let me
up.”

“This is probably the point where we berate
you for your idiot plan that you didn’t us tell about,” Dylan said,
more or less lifting me to my feet. The world grayed a little, but
then things brightened up again.

“Save it for later. Please.”

“I still think you should go to the
hospital.”

“Here Joss, take this.” Eric grabbed my hand
and slapped a cell phone into it. “We’ll take her home, she’ll go
to bed, and you can call her every hour to make sure she knows her
name and who’s President or whatever. That’s what they do in the
hospital anyway, right?”

“I guess the opportunity to berate you hourly
will give me some satisfaction.”

I have to admit that I was pretty overwhelmed
at this point. Kat had the video that was going to protect us from
any more of Marco’s threats. My sister’s secret was safe, and with
it, my dad’s sanity. I’d gone up against my own kind, Talent y
Talent, so to speak. I’d picked one who was meaner and stronger
than I was and had managed to come out the other side.

Ok, so I’d gotten involved with people and it
almost ended in disaster. I’d used my Talent in front of others
twice now and it almost ended in disaster. But it didn’t. I’d made
things better. Using my ability had helped save Phil, Kat, my
sister…

And Dylan had kissed me, which I wasn’t even
going to let myself contemplate for a while.

All that would have been enough, but there
was something in particular that was really blowing my mind when
Kat hugged me as we made our way through the construction dust to
Eric’s car.

I was among friends.

I felt like they were, and more, that I
wanted them to be. I was still nervous, unsure and unused to it.
But that day I knew that I wanted people in my life, and it didn’t
matter if that would obligate me to help them because maybe I
wanted that too. Maybe I wanted to save the world, I don’t know.
Maybe I was high on victory. Maybe it was just the endorphins doing
my thinking.

I slid into the car and Dylan slid in next to
me. Closer than he needed to so that it would be so easy to lean my
aching head against his shoulder. I let it fall back instead,
unsure of how to act. We were all tired. I had serious mixed
feelings at the thought of a phone vibrating under my pillow every
hour all night, even if he would be on the other end of it.