Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) (17 page)

“No!” His voice is firm, but there is no regret in his expression. “I told you, you are
not
like Jen. Not like any of them.”

“You lied to me.” I say it like I’m talking about the weather. Calm and simple.

His mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. He shakes his head as I stare him down. “I didn’t lie.”

“Yes, you did. You preyed on me from the very beginning, trying to make me feel special, but the whole time…”

“So now I’m a criminal and a liar, right? Yeah, my plan was to invite you to Monroe Street. I thought you were perfect for us. Thought we could help you get out of the system. And I did try to let you off the hook when I realized how much I…when I realized you weren’t cut out for this. Which is why Sam is pissed at me, too.”

Off the hook?
“You tried to let me off the hook? I didn’t see a whole lot of that going on, Z. Or, I don’t know, was making out with me your way of letting me off the hook?”

He swings around and slides down into the water, making his way to the shore. Wait, he thinks
he
has the right to be mad? I follow him to the bank, wincing as the icy water bites into my skin.

He turns to face me as I scramble up the slippery bank. “You think I played you? You think this is all some game for me?”

“Isn’t it?” I step forward but slip and fall on the slick grass. He offers his hand, which I slap away. He reaches down to pull me up by the arms. His chest is rising and falling faster as he glares at me. Then the emotion in his eyes turns from anger to something different, raw and hungry. The sudden shift in his expression makes my body ache, but I try to ignore it.

He kisses me hard, his lips slipping over mine in the soft spray of mist, shocking me. I push against him until I break free, then slap him in the face. Hard.

He looks as stunned as I feel. He opens his mouth as if to say something then closes it. “I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing his cheek. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to drag you into all this. I mean, I did then, but now…” His eyes drop to my feet. “I get why you’re mad, but this isn’t a game for me. Not anymore.”

He turns to walk away. I almost let him go, but something inside me stirs as the memories flood over me like a wave—the concern and anger in Z’s eyes after Derrick’s attack, the gentle pressure of his lips against mine, his arms warm around me, making me feel safe. His eyes telling me what his words don’t.

I’m furious that he knew everything and kept it from me, but at the same time, I know he’s not trying to hurt me. When he told me about the operation at Monroe Street, I didn’t run from him. So why am I so angry now? Because he didn’t tell me he knew about my shitty past? That information is pretty much a matter of public record.

My head hurts. In my mind I know it’d be stupid to stay with someone I can’t fully trust. But my heart disagrees. I can’t deny this—whatever
this
is. Right or wrong, I stretch my arm to take his hand in mine and pull him back to me.

His eyes widen in surprise as I reach up to twist my fingers into his damp hair and pull him down to me, to press my mouth against his. This time it’s me driving the kiss, forcing his lips apart with mine, locked with an intensity that’s frightening. His hands slide down my body to rest on my hips, then around to pull me closer until we’re melded together. My leg slides up against his and my body goes limp as he wraps his hand around the outside of my thigh, hitching me up until I’m lifted off the ground. The warning bells clang in my mind but the pounding of my heart drowns them out. He sets me back on my feet, his breathing as labored as mine.

“Come on, you’re getting soaked.” His voice is rough but his eyes are shining. I let him lead me away from the falls, across the narrow path to the clearing. We lie down on the warm, dry grass and listen to the sound of the rushing water as the sun’s rays soothe my damp skin.

Z leans over and traces the outline of my face with his finger. “I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

“I don’t agree with what you guys do,” I tell him. I’m going for total honesty, and I’m hoping he does the same. “But I know that I have nowhere else to go.”

“You know you’re going to have to do it, too.”

I don’t know that I can steal like that, no matter how easy it is or how much he tries to justify it. But I refuse to go back into foster care. I can do whatever I have to do to stay out of the system until I turn eighteen. “Just promise you’ll stop keeping secrets from me.”

His eyes shift away. “Okay.”

I put a finger under his chin and tilt it toward me. “Promise?”

He nods. His lips meet mine, then slide down my jawline to my neck. A pleasant tingling sensation moves throughout my body at his touch.

“When are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, since we’re speaking of not keeping secrets. Even more, I want to see how much he trusts
me
.

“Mmm…?”

“Your name?” I push on his shoulders until he looks up at me. I touch a fingertip lightly to the slight pink blotch on his cheek where I slapped him. “Your real name.”

“My legal name is Z.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and there’s no record of you. No, I want to know your
real
name. The one you were born with, the one not even Sam knows.”
Or Jen.

He doesn’t say anything. The warmth inside me begins to chill. “If you don’t trust me with that, how can I trust you enough to stay at the house?”

He bows his head, the blond hair falling forward so I can’t see his eyes. “It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“Obviously.”

“I promised myself I would never tell anyone. Never.” His voice is barely audible. I get the feeling he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Everything,” he whispers. It’s a strange admission, coming from him, but one that I kind of get. To tell me his name is to trust his entire life to me. Maybe he’s not ready for that. Am I?

I brush his hair back and he gazes at me, his eyes a deep well of painful memories. I’m not the only one who’s gone through hell. I touch a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell me right now. Tell me when you’re ready.” I want him to do it because he wants to, not because I guilt-tripped him into it.

He nods, his face serious as he fans my damp hair across my shoulder. “I promise.”

Interestingly, for the first time in my life, and regardless of all the crap Z is involving me in, I’m starting to trust my feelings. I really like him. I almost feel like I could trust
him
.

Even though there’s still a part of me that warns against it.

Chapter Nineteen

“She was not past seventeen. Cast in so slight and exquisite a mould; so mild and gentle; so pure and beautiful; that earth seemed not her element, nor its rough creatures her fit companions.”

—Charles Dickens,
Oliver Twist

Z

My life has always been so easy when it comes to girls. I’ve never had a problem manipulating their emotions. I know how they react to me—to my looks, my attitude, my money. I know what they want, and I give it to them in order to get what
I
want. There’s never been a time that I haven’t been in control.

Until now.

Liv is different. I tried treating her like all the rest until I accidentally fell… I choke on the word, even in my thoughts. I don’t want to be in love. Love causes nothing but trouble, and it gets in the way of business. I’ve been fine with my life so far. Why would I want to screw it up?

Liv stirs next to me. She’s a restless sleeper. In all three nights that she’s been here, she hasn’t spent a single one in her own bed. Sharing a bed with a girl just to sleep is new for me. Girls I’ve recruited in the past, like Jen, were always very quick to let me know they were interested in much more. It was too easy.

I wince at the thought of Jen. I admit, I let that one go way too far. Like with Maggie, it’s my fault she’s so bitter.

In the stream of morning light through the window I can see the corner of Liv’s lips turn upward, and I smile. Must be a good dream. I touch her cheek with one finger and kiss her forehead as she sleeps. I wish I could protect her from the world, because the world sucks. I’d do anything to keep Liv from having to go through more hell.

She shifts slightly toward me, her gold locket sliding down her neck. I stare at it for the longest time, remembering my promise to tell her everything. But she’s been hurt so many times. How do I know this time would be different?

I reach a hand over the side of the bed to the windowsill and feel around for my glasses. Using a fingernail, I pry the little heart open and peer closely at the tiny pictures within. On the right is a young woman, not much older than Liv and so like her in the face, with the same large brown eyes. The picture on the left is of her grandfather and grandmother. I stare at the man’s smiling face. Smiles can hide everything and tell a person nothing. I press it closed, just in time for Liv to sigh and slowly open her eyes, focusing on me.

“Good morning,” I say, brushing her hair back over her ear.

“Mmm…good morning,” she says, her voice thick with sleepiness. “What time is it?”

“Six forty-five. Time for school.”

She stretches, catlike. “Mmm…don’t want to go.”

“I know. But there are only a few days left.”

She frowns. I know what’s on her mind, though she won’t admit it. There’s a possibility Derrick could be at school, waiting for her. Nancy’s nervous that he’ll have the cops on us here, but I know that scum like him are usually too afraid to involve the police until they get their own story straight. And if he went to the police…the thought of that makes me laugh.

There is something else that worries me, though. Starting this afternoon, Nancy says I’m to get Liv involved with our cyber activities. We haven’t talked about it since the waterfall, though I’m sure she knows it’s coming. I just don’t know how she’s going to react.

“I have something for you.” I reach back to my nightstand and lift the small blue box. Her eyes widen as I open the lid to reveal a thin gold bracelet.

“Oh, Z, it’s beautiful.” She lifts it up to gaze at it.

“It was my mother’s,” I whisper as I watch the gold strand flex through her slender fingers. “It’s the only thing I kept of hers.”

I take it and gently fasten it above her hand, then kiss the inside of her wrist. The one thing I have that means something to me now rests on the only person who means everything to me.

Her hand strokes my cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly.

I lean down to press my lips to hers, then her chin, her jaw, her neck, loving how she tilts her head back to give me better access. I let my fingers trail down her side to pull her closer to me.

A noise from outside brings me back to myself. Keeping my self-control around this girl is not easy.

“Come on.” I pull her up and kiss her lightly before she heads back to her room to change. I go into my bathroom to splash cold water on my face—thank God for whoever invented cold water—brush my teeth, and slip on a pair of jeans. I head downstairs, making it out the door before Nancy has a chance to remind me about this afternoon. Liv meets me at the bike and we head to school.

As we turn into the school parking lot, Liv’s arms tighten around me. I pull into a space and take my helmet off to look at her, but she’s buried into my back, not moving.

“What’s wrong?” I gently unfold her arms from their grip around my waist.

“Hey!” A shout echoes across the parking lot. The devil himself, Derrick Carter, is standing outside his car, pointing at me. Unlatching Liv’s trembling hands from my jacket, I slide off the bike, ignoring her faint protests. My focus is only on the asshole who doesn’t know what’s about to hit him. I can barely hear Liv shouting at me as I first walk, then run to my target, my anger breaking over me like a storm. The bastard’s eyes get wide as he backs away, just making it into his car when I reach him. He locks the door and shakes his head as I pound on the glass with my fist.

“Get out, you son of a bitch!” I back away a couple feet and stand to watch him with my arms crossed, daring him to step out.

He rolls down his window an inch. “I’ve called the police,” he says, holding his cell. “You have no legal right to her. I’m her legal guardian, so she has to come with me.”

Ha. I shake my head and walk back to Liv. Perfect. Let him figure it out. Let him explain to the cops why the system shows she’s emancipated, why there’s no record of them being her guardians. Then let him find out that he’s now a registered sex offender who’s in the parking lot of a high school.
Yeah, let’s see you squirm out of that one, scumbag.

Liv is still sitting on the bike, her wide eyes focused on the car. I put my arms around her trembling body. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

I expect her to start crying, but she shrugs me away and slides off the bike.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m not dealing with this anymore,” she says, her voice shaking but her face set. “I’m sick of being scared.” She heads toward Derrick’s car.

“No, Liv, wait.” She ignores me, instead walking faster toward Derrick, who is still in his car. I can hear sirens growing louder as they get nearer. Shit, he really did call the cops.

I get on the bike and start it up, riding over to stop in front of Liv. “Get on. Cops are coming.”

Her face is a storm cloud. “Z, get the…” She stops, staring as a police car pulls into the parking lot.

“Get on. Now.”

She slides behind me and I pull away just as Derrick gets out of his car to wave the police down. Her grip around me is like steel, though it loosens as we get farther away from the school.

Liv is visibly calmer once we reach the waterfall. She doesn’t say anything about what happened in the parking lot, but at least she’s no longer angry. I flip on my side in the grass to face her, brushing her arm with my fingertips. She flinches, then relaxes. I hate when she flinches. It’s like there are secrets so deep that I’ll never be able to uncover them. “Tell me about your past.”

“My past? You already know.”

“No, I don’t.” I look her straight in the eyes. “I only know what’s on record. I know Derrick wasn’t the first person who abused you.”

She jerks away from me, standing up and walking to the edge of the pool. I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

“Derrick was the worst, but there was another time with a foster brother. He used to touch me. A lot.” She shivers and crosses her arms. “Most of my homes weren’t as horrible as that. I just wasn’t in them long enough to get to know them. And some really sucked. I remember at one place, the kids thought it was funny to pull pranks on me. They drove me out to a haunted cornfield on Halloween and left me there. I could hear them laughing as they drove away. The last straw was when they locked me out of the house in my thin pajamas in the middle of winter. A neighbor called the police for me. Julia moved me every time there was a problem, but the problems never seemed to end.”

She sighs. “To be honest, I’ve never really loved anyone or trusted anyone since my mother died. Bernadette’s the only one I got even a little close to, but I didn’t love her, either.” She pauses and her forehead wrinkles. I know she’s not telling me the whole truth on that one, which makes me dislike Bernadette even more for leaving her and breaking her heart.

“It’s funny, you know?” Liv continues, walking back over to sit next to me. “I’d see all these kids with their parents and when I was little, I’d wish that were me. And I was pretty angry at my mother for getting hooked on drugs and running away from home to live on the streets. But that’s the weird thing. When it was just the two of us living on the streets, that’s when I felt the most loved. When I got older, I figured I didn’t need love, just a place to sleep and eat, really. That’s all I felt toward most families, like the Carters.”

Her story isn’t unusual. At Monroe Street, there are too many stories like this, though the kids who eventually find their way to us are the lucky ones. But it still breaks my heart. I can’t believe she’s made it this far without getting mixed up in the trouble that typically plagues kids with that kind of past.

I touch the gold locket just under the hollow of her throat. “What would you do if you ever found out you had family? I mean, say you had an aunt or an uncle or something.”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the circumstances. What would you do?”

“I’d probably run the other way.” I say it without thinking.

She laughs. “You realize you left me with the perfect opening to ask
you
now, right?”

“I guess. What do you want to know?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Really, you have to ask? Okay, so let’s start with how you came to Monroe Street. What made you decide to start doing, you know, what you do?”

What
I
do
.
She can’t say the words, a red flag that I decide to ignore for now. “I came to Monroe Street when I was around eleven. I’d been in a lot of trouble before that, even got sent to juvie. But Nancy found me when I ran away. She took me in, then told me she was starting up a home for kids who needed a place to stay. I’d have to earn my keep, but I’d like the freedom of the place. I was skeptical at first, but she was good on her word. It started out as simple jobs until I really got involved. I guess you could say I founded the online division.”

“You didn’t do any hacking before Monroe Street?”

“Well, not like I do today. I did a lot of malicious stuff, though. Viruses, bots, things like that. Nancy made me stop when I came to live here.” I frown at the memory. “Poor Nancy. She had a seriously angry kid to deal with while trying to start up the business. I can never repay her for everything she did for me.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“It doesn’t matter. Life just sucked. But like I told you, Monroe Street saved me. Saved all of us.”

“Is Nancy a computer genius, too?”

“No. Nancy got her start a different way. Very different. She was a pro.”

“A pro at what?”

Her innocent, wide-eyed expression makes me laugh. “A pro—a prostitute.”

Liv gasps, throwing her hand over her mouth. “
Nancy
—a prostitute? What the hell?”

“Well, more of a high-class escort. Not on the streets like you’re probably thinking. That’s how Bill…” I stop for a minute, my thoughts going back to Maggie. Escort or prostitute, I can’t understand why anyone would choose that life.

“So have you ever been caught?”

“Nope. It’s not like we pick pockets. Cyber crime is totally different.”

“Like how?”

“Well, it’s not like in the movies or on TV. Actually, what they do isn’t even close. And we don’t go into banks dressed in our best suits to get a briefcase full of money or have cool holograms projecting into vaults.”

I smile at the thought. It’s one of the first things I have to tell new kids—our way of hacking accounts usually consists of password cracking, SQL injection, or social engineering. Maggie actually thought we’d be going all Bonnie and Clyde on banks. I think she was disappointed when she found out how unglamorous the business is.

“So you go after easy targets. Do you prey on little old ladies with cats, too?”

Her tone drips with sarcasm. I can’t believe that she would even think that about me. “No. I’ve told you this before—we’re not evil. We go after big targets, not people who can barely afford to feed themselves, let alone their cats.”

“Ah…okay.” Her lips twist and I know she’s not convinced. I’m not sure what else to say to make her understand. It was never this hard to convince the others, not even Cameron, who thought we were being watched all the time. Although he’s still pretty paranoid. Maybe that’s why Sam flinches at the idea of dating him.

Liv takes my hand and draws idle circles around my knuckles with her thumb. Her hands are small, her fingers so slender. I’m caught up in staring at them, which is probably why her next question, “How did your mother die?” takes me off guard.

I jerk away from her. “What?”

She stares at me. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t…”

“My mother died when I was seven. It was pretty bad. She just…” I yank on the grass next to me, throwing it aside. It doesn’t make me feel any better. “She just couldn’t handle life.”

It’s the main thing I remember about my mother—the bleak depression that eventually led to her suicide. I shove the memory behind the wall in my heart.

Liv takes my hand again. Her touch is warm. “What happened to your father?”

Anger washes over me with the other memory I never let surface. I don’t say anything this time.

“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”