My Number One: Kasha & Knox (2 page)

I wanted to live. I needed to do so intact. Looking up to the gray sky for a brief second, I tried not to breathe, since any type of movement was liable to give me away.

“I think you need to put down the gun,” the officer pleaded. The words were rushed. “Let’s talk.”

“Do I look stupid—” Van spat out.

“We need to go, Boss.”

“You better listen—”

“Shut the—”

“What are you gonna do, Van? You’re into killing now?”

“I don’t think you realized who you were messing with, Officer. You brought trouble to me, and then tried to see how much further you could go.”

None of this made sense. Trouble? What the hell did I get into? I sank onto the concrete, determined that their conversation must’ve taken precedence over me. Hell, they’d probably forgotten I was with them. In the midst of the tears, I gazed up to see a figure in a nearby window. It was a child. I waved my hand, just slightly.

“Get the hell off me!” the guy screamed. I yanked down my arm that had barely been stuck out. The child immediately ran from the window.

I pressed my cheek to the side of the cold metal, then slowly crept to where I’d originally stooped. The guy fell to the road, next to the tire. His head got knocked sideways. Our eyes connected at the same time. Sunlight had barely started to saturate South Florida. I still felt safe enough, with the stranger being absorbed in the attack. His eyes never tore away from mine.

Blood spewed from his mouth. Van was so engulfed in pulverizing the guy that he didn’t notice me only feet away. Then he placed the gun to the guy’s head, pulled away, and pistol-whipped the unlucky bastard. My fingers instinctively went to my mouth. I forced down the cries.

The guy’s eyes were swollen. A darkness known as death loomed close, too close. Truth was, I knew well the aura it brought on. Even considering the fear emanating from his soon-to-be victim. But he had come this far, and didn’t believe there was an alternative. Van pulled him up only to toss the body back down. I drew away from sight when I saw Van’s booth lift up in the air and fly down toward the guy’s head.

“Leave him there,” Van ordered. “Where’s Kasha?”

“Oh shit!”

“Find her!”

They raced toward the back seat. Keeping my knees bent, I made quick flight up the street and around the corner. The Escalade flew past the street less than a minute later. I was on foot, they were not. Hiding made sense. I waited about ten minutes. Might as well have been ten hours. My mind raced over the short life I’d lived. Then I stepped out into the open.

“Kasha!”

“Nooooo . . . please . . .” I moved away, rushing to survive. The hoodie fell back to my shoulders. My bare feet pounded hard on the sidewalk. I gripped my bags and fought to get away. The cool mist of the morning air rushed at my face. Tears rolled and clung to my face.

I couldn’t give up. One word flashed before me: survive.

Why I needed to, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I had to live. If they were to catch me, I could almost envision my own demise, much like the stranger’s lifeless body. I counted their footsteps, from the distant thudding to the loud booms right behind me . . . next to me.

“Where are you going, huh?” Van’s arm swooped around my waist. As he pulled me in the opposite direction, I caught a glimpse of my wild hair in a nearby car mirror. My eyes were wide and lashes clumped together from the tears.

“C’mon, Van, let me go.” A bitter, dry breeze flowed out of my mouth. My voice was growing hoarse.

“Shut up,” he whispered.

We spun around to an odd sound, like the swoosh and crackle of a baseball bat. Our attention immediately went from high to low. Axel’s large body and face was pressed onto the sidewalk a few feet away. Van’s fingers squeezed my wrists, and his arm secured me against his chest. He reeked of funk and liquor; a perfect combination they could label killer’s essence. I wiggled around, but then heard a click at my head.

“Let her go,” an even-toned female voice demanded as a slender girl walked from behind a concrete structure. Honey-blonde hair was pulled up in a knot; flyaway strands gave her an ironic, angelic glow. She wore a thigh-high, teal tank dress with walnut-shaded kickers. Her fingers gripped on a red bat with the words
Little Slugger
scribbled down the side.

The corners of my lips curved up. Sure, I had a gun at my temple. Honestly, this chick had no fear. I only hoped some of that bad-ass persona would rub off on me. Van was unhinged, and a complete stranger—kick-ass stranger at that—was willing to defend me with a damn bat. While I motioned with my eyes, the sun began its peekaboo debut. The chick’s eyes glimmered, they were a crystal shade of gray. She moved progressively closer; not enough to set him off, but just enough to have him believing he had the upper hand.

“Keep going and mind your own damn business, you—” Van was cut off by the sound of sirens. The cold object he had pressed to my head eased just enough as he made a simple move by turning toward the noise.

I elbowed him in the groin, ducked and the chick allowed the bat to fulfill its purpose. Van crashed to the ground. She hit him again, then did the same to Axel. I cringed each time there was a connection.

“Don’t punk up on me, chick.” She turned to walk away.

“I-I-I’m just saying . . .” I stuttered.

“Take deep breaths. You live near?”

My head pumped up and down.

“You got major ties to this area?”

I shrugged.

“Unless you want this shit to blow up in your face, I suggest you get the hell away from—”

“I gotta get my clothes and-and—”

“And nothing.” She paused to look down at me. Her chin directed me to a sky blue, vintage looking Chevy. “Your clothes aren’t worth your life, are they?”

I swallowed the warning, clutching the only remaining articles I might ever have to remind me of this life. Once inside the car, my savior sped me away from South Florida.

That life, that was way back then . . .

~

~

I rarely drank during the week. Hell, I tried not to drink at all, period. But with all that had taken place with the houses we’d recently bought, a celebration was in order. I raised a glass of a dark brown brew of rum high into the air.

“This year can kiss my ass.” The guys—my business associates and boys—raised their glasses in agreement.

Bash Richards was a fast-talking bastard that would always pull through at the last minute; though his behavior made you question his ulterior motives and loyalty. He was scrawny and spoke with a southern drawl, even though he’d been born and raised in Delaware.

Rory Ackerman was the seemingly pompous asshole with a lingering Midwestern tone, even though he’d been living on the East Coast for the past fifteen of his twenty-six years. He was a tall redhead with bold freckles. Most people avoided him, though he was the opposite of what they perceived. Rory reeked of arrogance. Make no mistake, he was anything but. I could vouch for that.

Our ten-year friendship had served us well. It was hard to believe all that time had passed. Bash had a substance abuse problem at an early age. Rory was abandoned or some shit like that, though his story never seemed to pan out. But I never pressed him. He’d always proven himself to be trustworthy. We met on the streets. And after being down and out for what seemed like ages, shit turned positive. For boys that didn’t initially have but one stolen pair of sneakers, we now owned homes. We bought and fixed up foreclosed properties for a living. Most people didn’t believe we’d ever been down and out, but we had been at one point.

“You need to get out of Delaware, Knox.” Rory emptied a fresh bottle of Corona before slamming it down on the table. “Wait, let’s ride up to New York for the weekend.”

“Dude, are you serious? Weren’t we just talking about finishing up those other houses?” Bash was the color-inside-the-line type of guy. Strange thing was, although he happened to be the youngest of our crew, he came across as more level-headed than Rory more often than not. As for me, that’s debatable.

“Shit, you two pulled me away from that last house.” I pushed back slightly from the chair. I wasn’t big on hanging out or partying because my interests mainly lay with anything that would afford a comfortable future. For me, trips to New York, or anywhere else for that matter, would only benefit me if they revolved around business.

“You need to get a life, bro,” Rory reinforced. This phrase was, is and would always be his ammo. “The shit in the past . . . Leave it there.” With that, he slammed his second bottle down, got up and stormed away.

That behavior annoyed me, especially since it hit home. I knew he was right, but the shit from the past had made us who we were today. “Yeah, man.” I couldn’t debate further, but instead left it there. Deep within my mind, buried in the regions that held each of us captive for all eternity, I knew our truths would find a way to sneak back into their lives.

“Rory’s restless,” Bash offered in a low monotone way. I’d almost forgotten he’d been a part of the scene. I could tell Bash’s mind was distant, as if he carried the world on his shoulders too. But truth be told, we all did in our own way.

“I’m heading back over to that house,” I started. No longer feeling for drinks and chill time, I pushed back the chair, knocking up against something. Bash waved but it was too late. Before I knew it, my polo was smothered in liquid.

“I’m so sorry . . .” a thin female cried out from behind me. Looking back now, in spite of the present circumstances, that timid voice and meek composure were far removed from the Erika I would come to know. In fact, I felt sorry for the girl I wasn’t looking for at the time.

~

~

Compared to South Florida, Delaware was a drag for Teagan Boone and me. We’d sped away from our past lives so quick that at several months in, my head was still spinning. I was an only child. Didn’t have any cousins either because my parents didn’t have siblings. All my life, I’d been a loner. And now, being thrust into a friendship with a female, I felt relieved.

I sat at a shiny wooden table, my back pressed to the wall of a Creole gem of a restaurant in Old New Castle. Nora Lee’s was hot, much more than the spicy Cajun dishes they served up. Deeper into the spot, a bluegrass band provided entertainment for Thursday night happy hour. My new bestie had just gotten up from the table to walk over to some “spicy ginger”. Yes, her exact words.

She flagged me over. Me being me, I shook my head no. The music wasn’t exactly my speed, but an older couple at the table beside me kept bragging about their drive up from two and a half hours south in Maryland.

“Your boring behind attitude is gonna rub off on me,” Tea stated between giggles as she hopped lightly on her toes. She grabbed my fingers that were leisurely placed on the table and squeezed. “I found the perfect guy for you.”

“I didn’t know I was looking.”

“No sweetie, you aren’t, I am.” She spun around in the middle of the restaurant. Customers from other tables laughed out loud, and the “spicy ginger” from the bar walked over to whisper in her ear. Even with the lights drawn low, Teagan turned beet red. She shoved him to the side. Not one of those weak types of shoves, but a man-sized push that nearly knocked him off balance. “Let’s go,” she ordered me, then threw down a fistful of bills on the table. Tea let the waitress know it should be enough, and we left out.

Instead of heading for the car, we walked down the cobblestone sidewalk to the water. The wind sent a slight chill our way, as we gazed into the dreadful September moon. It reflected Teagan’s sudden change of mood.

“What did he say?” I finally built up the courage to ask.

Before she could brush things off, which was typically the case with her, a tall, slender guy stepped quickly up to us. “My friend,” he began, but he stopped right there. The doom and gloom feel of the evening suddenly left. This guy killed the dark mood and just that quickly brought light.

“He’s an asshole,” Teagan fed the guy I couldn’t seem to disconnect from.

“I’m Knox. The sane one.” His intro was meant for Tea, but our eyes never left each other.

“Look, guy, I don’t give a shit what you wanna call yourself. We’re not interested in what you or that bastard dish out.” Teagan reached for my wrist, but I surprised myself by pulling away.

“I’m coming.”

“What the hell! Arghhh.” She moved quickly up to the marina-like block.

“I was just trying to explain to your friend that Rory didn’t mean to insult her.”

“How did he insult her?” Proper reasoning returned. I felt like a louse of a friend for not catering to her needs, but instead ogling a perfect, and I mean perfectly good, stranger.

“Not going there, but I wanted to say sorry, on his behalf.”

“Kasha!” Teagan’s voice traveled up and down the darn street. She hadn’t returned, but was about a block away. “Forget about him, it’s girl’s night.”

“I gotta go.” I grinned. Kinda felt nice to flirt, even though I had no intention of acting on it. Deep down, I hoped to see Knox again.

Then the dreaded question came up, “Can I get your number?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t give my number out.”

“So how will I get in touch with you?”

“This is Delaware, Knox. In case you forgot which state you’re in, we’re bound to run into each other again.” I placed one foot in front of the other and twirled away from him. I don’t know why, but I felt like a fairy princess. I prayed to the heavens that I didn’t get tripped up by the uneven sideway. Someone listened. When I turned back around, he was still staring at me. I did something completely out of character, and it felt frickin’ awesome—I blew him a kiss. This gorgeous stranger, with glistening eyes and perfectly straight teeth was the only guy I’d seen in forever that I’d actually consider getting to know.

~

I never expected to see him, at least not right away. I wasn’t much for hanging out, going out or being out. That night, three weeks back, was a fluke because Delaware was not the place to be for fun. Teagan and I needed anything but fun. We had just moved out of a trashy motel about ten minutes from the restaurant. I’d somehow managed to get enrolled for a counseling degree, which I doubted most of the time. Luckily, I’d saved enough money from my time with Van to not have to work. And my bestie, she chose not to room with me.

Late one Saturday night, Teagan rushed me out of my scarcely furnished apartment. I’d barely pulled on a fluorescent blue, long-sleeved mini with flats and a leather underarm purse.

“For someone hoping to stay under the radar, you sure love going out,” I observed. She only thumbed on the steering wheel and hummed to Delilah’s heartwarming dedication to a caller’s long lost love,
You Found Me
by The Fray.

The lyrics fed my secret desire for a happily ever after love affair. I couldn’t help but wonder if some guy would find me. But then again, those songs were for the innocent, weren’t they? Not too many men wanted to settle down with a chick with more baggage than a little. Right?

Chesapeake Inn was the perfect location to be hidden away. In such a small state, it was good to know that there were pockets of areas where one could escape from reality. Anyone that went there had to want to enjoy themselves, and forget they were actually in Delaware. That I did. Teagan and I claimed the dance floor. The only time we left was to go to the ladies room. She’d named me the designated driver, so I sipped on a cooler while she downed a tub mixture with ten different types of alcohol called Voodoo Spell.

As the night progressed, I walked out from the area with the music to find a marina with about a dozen yachts docked. It was breathtaking, the vessels swayed beneath the decorative lights. Even the moon reflected into the water. I fell in love with the idea of love. A teardrop rolled down one side of my face.

“I told you we’d see each other again.” The voice was familiar, but I wasn’t prepared for him when I spun close to the edge of the dock.

Before long, my legs gave way. I visualized myself crashing into the rippled water. Funny thing about it, I didn’t fight the urge to fall. But an arm captured my waist to pull me back. In doing so, we crashed onto the concrete ground. Actually, he did. He also cushioned my fall. Knox Jackson and I became friends on that night.

A throbbing flowed from the left side of his chest to the side of my face, and I prayed to God that he wasn’t able to hear the wild beating of my own heart. His touch sent electricity over every fiber of me. And the bold scent I recognized as Creed Aventus swarmed around us. My eyes were shut because I simply couldn’t let him see the effect he was having over me.

“Are you okay?”

Am I?

This beautiful stranger, who’d just saved my life, needed to know if I was okay. His arms captured me at my sides. His air became my own. His strength transferred to my weakened body.

I didn’t know a damn thing about him, other than the fact that his existence gave me life.

So, was I okay?

“N-No.” I gasped.

A large hand palmed the back of my head as he began a massage of my scalp, going lower to my shoulders and spine.

“Are you guys gonna be alright?” Some voice crashed our moment.

“I’m making sure she’s alright,” Knox said.

“I can have them turn up the lights back here. We never really have anyone in the area this late.” The worker’s footsteps drew near. “Is she drunk?”

“No, we’re fine.” Knox’s words became harsh and carried a hint of annoyance.

“Fine, guy.” His footsteps grew distant.

“I’m sorry.” My apology vibrated on a navy blue V-neck. As much as I wanted to move away from the warmth of his arms, I simply wasn’t able to let him go.

After a few more minutes, we eased up, eventually getting to our feet. Knox busied himself with my hair and peach sundress. He pressed his palms to my cheeks, only to slide two fingers down to my chin and lips.

His touch sparked something foreign in me. I wanted to keep him close, to always be at one. He ignited a desire, an energy, a longing I’d never known; one that I never knew existed either. This scared the life out of me.

Every time I got comfortable, I literally heard Ma’s voice. Her reminders of what could and what should never be helped maintain my sanity.

“You’re not good enough for love.”

“Don’t expect to fall in love.”

“Love only leads to heartbreak.”

“Guard your heart because giving it away will only lead to disappointment.”

Mom’s words became more real to me than the guy attempting to soothe my cares at this very moment. I twisted out of his grip, and willed myself away.

“You can’t leave again without giving up your number, or at least taking mine.” I moved like the world was on my shoulders, cautious and worn down. Even as his eyes begged me to give in, I knew better. Ma’s words should’ve been my guide on how to navigate the universe, but Knox stepped closer. He wore me down by simply being this remarkable guy.

~

The following week, as I prepared for an interview at a local community center, my iPhone buzzed. Not many people texted me; in fact, not many had my number. Then I remembered
him
and my heart jumped.

Knox:
Lunch? Dinner? Whatever?

We’d exchanged numbers at Chesapeake early that morning when Knox had let me crash onto him instead of into the river. I couldn’t bring myself to be the one. Even when a guy shows some kind of interest, you never truly know what he’s really after. That night, he’d used my phone to call his. Went so far as to attach his name to the number, to make sure it was saved. I was frickin’ out of touch with all things related to dating.

When I left home in Port St. Lucie, I’d walked away from a guy I once swore was “my future”. That time seemed like a long forgotten dream; actually, personal nightmare was more realistic. Everything I once treasured died. In a way, so did I. But this guy Knox fed a need I thought was buried. Then just as suddenly, as light funneled into my dark world, another text came in.

Mom:
Please call
.

The request was her way of demanding my immediate attention. Communicating with my mother before an interview wasn’t wise. Unlucky for me, she was ultra-persistent.

“Mom?”

“Are you planning to move back down here anytime soon?” She spoke like we were in a business meeting.

From the window in my bedroom, a cool breeze whisked in. Good thing, because my pulse rate increased. I exhaled into the line. “Mom, you know I’m not coming, and maybe never moving, back to Florida. No.” What would be the purpose? Van aside, I needed to be away.

“Fine. I hope you’re not whoring again.”

My thumb itched to slide across the bottom of the screen, and forget I ever had a mother. I didn’t need a reminder that I was born to her. Being my only remaining parent, claiming zero paternity might work. Let’s just say osmosis.

“Mom, I’m heading out for an interview.”

“Doing what exactly?” she barked.

“Training with a social worker.” I paused for the courage to proceed. “I’m training to be a counselor.”

“Counsel who?” Mom burst into my ear.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Kasha, dear, listen to me. Don’t aim high. Happiness is only meant for good people.” She literally got choked up between the laughter and words. My insides dropped. A wave of sadness flushed over me. But then she stated, “And even if you’re fortunate enough to find happiness . . . it won’t last.”

The phone slipped through my fingers. Could life be so cruel to bait anyone with the promise of a happily ever after only to rip them apart in the process? I absolutely hated my mother’s world. I couldn’t bring myself to hate her.

No way.

She’d lost the only man worthy to be loved. Her life, all hope, ended with him. What she now projected onto me wasn’t meant to do anything more than save me from a faith she’d already endured.

Did I need to be happy? Honestly, what was happiness anyway? Perhaps the falling in love and getting to a satisfying place wasn’t meant for everyone, or me in particular.

~