Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) (23 page)

“Saw it in a movie.” I manage to choke out. “Bill?”

“A movie?” Jack’s mouth drops open, then he shakes himself. “I think Bill’s dead. We have to get out of here.”

The car is already sinking. “We can’t,” I tell him. “The car will suck us down. We have to wait.” I’ve seen this in a movie, too. I glance back over the seat and see blood on the window of Bill’s side. Bill’s slumped forward, unmoving.

The car tilts backward. “Jack!” The cold water starts creeping in, flowing faster as we sink. My breathing is coming faster and shallower.

Jack takes my hand as I start to panic. “Listen. Just take some deep breaths, okay? Wait till we’re under and then crawl out the window. We’re going to be okay. Just breathe until you can’t anymore. Don’t panic.”

Too late. But he repeats the word “breathe” over and over. I get control of myself and squeeze his hand hard as the water slams into us. As the car sinks farther and the interior fills, we both take a last deep breath and descend into the cold, black depths of the river.

As soon as the car is submerged and the water surrounds us completely, Jack pulls my body over him to guide me out the window. His hands are shaking. I try to hurry so he can follow, grasping the window ledge and sliding out. I want to turn to help Jack but my body betrays me, my legs propelling me upward to get air.
Please let Jack be behind me
. Every second feels like an hour as the oxygen is expelled from my lungs.

My chest is so tight.

The light is getting closer.

I finally break the surface and gasp, choking as I try too hard to fill my lungs. I look around to see Jack treading water just a few feet from me, coughing.

He tilts his head toward the bridge. We swim for what seems like miles over to the support beams. My arms scream in protest, but I make them keep pumping.

We wrap our arms and legs around the closest concrete pillar, holding on tight as we catch our breath. Jack studies me, his eyes worried. I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, but nothing comes out.

Lights are approaching, headed straight for the bridge and us.

“L-Look,” Jack says through chattering teeth. “You need to get on that boat. They c-can’t take me.”

I shake my head. “N-no, you need to come—”

“No. Too many questions.” He waits until the boat gets closer before turning to tell me, “Hold on as t-tight as you can and don’t let go. Do you understand?”

I nod. Sirens are screaming somewhere. Maybe above us. I want to reach for Jack as he pushes away, but my body feels like it’s frozen to the beam.

“You’ll be okay now,” he says as he treads water. He glances once more at the approaching boat. Then he’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“The persons on whom I have bestowed my dearest love lie deep in their graves; but, although the happiness and delight of my life lie buried there too, I have not made a coffin of my heart, and sealed it up for ever on my best affections. Deep affliction has only made them stronger; it ought, I think, for it should refine our nature.”

—Charles Dickens,
Oliver Twist

Liv

Hands reach down to pull me up into the boat. They have me sit on what appears to be an ice chest surrounded by fishing poles, nets, and buckets, and I’m freezing. It’s hard to see much about my rescuers except they all seem to be men with beards.

A light is flicked on, the beam directed at me. I flinch and the beam is immediately directed upward.

“Sorry ’bout that, little lady,” one of the men says. I can see him more clearly now, although it’s hard to make out much of his face through the fluffy white beard.

I’ve been rescued by Santa Claus.
The thought makes me want to laugh, but the giggle is stuck in my throat. My teeth are chattering so hard I’m afraid they might break.

One of the men throws a large towel around my shoulders. It smells like fish. “You were in that car that flew off the road, right? Was anyone else in there?”

I shake my head, but I can’t seem to make the words come out.

“She’s in shock, I guess,” someone says. “We need to get her to shore. I radioed for help.”

Help? From whom, Santa’s elves? I start to laugh now, and my body shakes. That makes me laugh harder.

“Whoa, easy there,” Santa Claus says. He hands me a thermos. “Drink this.”

My mind replays the club scene. No way. No more drinks from strange men for me. He puts the thermos down and mentions something about stubborn women. Which is something Z might say. Not Jack, though.

I sit upright, shivering underneath the fishy towel while the men do boat things. My feet have fallen asleep, but I can’t seem to focus my mind on anything. And it is so cold out. Isn’t it almost summer?

When the boat makes it to shore, an ambulance is waiting. They carry me to the hospital, checking my vitals in the back of the vehicle on the way. Somebody says my blood pressure is low. They slip an oxygen mask over me. When we get to the hospital, they take me to a room and insert an IV in my arm. I drift off to sleep, interrupted a few times by the sound of alarms clanging. In my sleepy fog I hear the nurse say something about dangerously low blood pressure. I just want to sleep.

When I wake in the morning, the clock on the wall shows that it’s eight thirty. A cup and pitcher are on the side table. I help myself and drink half the pitcher.

A nurse comes in and smiles at me as she checks the machines. “Your vitals are much better now,” she says. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess,” I say.

“Your grandfather is outside talking with the doctor. I’ll get him for you.”

“Wait. Is there anyone else?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Were you expecting anyone?”

I shake my head. I guess I should be glad Jack didn’t come here. Exposure to the home and all. It still sucks, though. “No. Just a weird dream I had, I guess.”

She nods and leaves, but the door almost immediately opens again to admit my grandfather and a doctor. Oh crap, and a police officer.

“Olivia, are you okay?” my grandfather asks, moving to my side. He looks so messy from his usual perfectly pressed suit look—well, his shirt is wrinkled and untucked, and for him, that’s messy.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” My eyes move to the police officer. I’m glad it’s a woman. Or maybe not. Women are more intuitive, and I have to be extra careful not to say too much.

He pulls a chair to my side. “How did you end up going over the bridge into the river? Mrs. Bedwin said you came home earlier but left again. What happened?”

I hesitate, glancing at the policewoman, who introduces herself as Officer Jenkins and smiles encouragingly at me. Why didn’t I ask Jack what I should tell people? I have no idea now what to say.

“Um, I can’t remember everything. This man took me off the street and said he wanted me to help him steal from my grandfather. That’s when he took me back to the house and made me put spyware on the computer. He was going to kill…me…if I didn’t do that. Then he took me to an apartment where I called the police to trace the line, and then he made me drive him away. I turned the car over the bridge rails because I thought it was my only chance to escape.”

“Yes,” Officer Jenkins says. She’s looking at her notes. “That’s consistent with our reports. Our team is working with the FBI to handle the contents in his apartment.”

“What contents?” my grandfather asks, but I know. I know exactly what they’re going to find. I swallow hard, hoping there’s nothing on Bill’s computer that will lead them to Monroe Street. I look at the phone. If I could only get in touch with Jack, but I don’t want to risk it. They’re probably monitoring my calls.

What a mess.

“Was anyone with you when you called 911?” the woman asks.

With me? “Nobody, just me. And that man.”

Officer Jenkins scratches something on her pad. She asks me more questions, but I answer vaguely, as if the details are confused. After we play another round of “I don’t know, I don’t remember,” my grandfather firmly asks the officer to leave me to sleep. I’m grateful, as I don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer.

I fall asleep, thoughts of Jack soothing my weary mind.

…

Jack

The farmer stops his truck at a gas station, three blocks from home. I climb out of the truck bed and give a short wave.

The trek to the house is terrible. The night is cooler than normal for this time of year. My clothes are almost dry now, but I’m freezing cold. My body is moving on autopilot.

All the cars are still in the driveway. Damn it, I wish I’d had the chance to call Nancy ahead of time. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely open the door handle.

I barely register the shocked faces on the others in the house when I collapse just inside, the chill finally taking over my body.

Nancy rushes to my side. “Cameron, help me bring Z upstairs. Micah, get him some hot tea.”

Cameron and Nancy help me up the stairs to my bathroom. It is the most painful climb I’ve ever experienced; my bones feel like they’re going to snap at any moment. Nancy starts the bath, but before she leaves I grab her hand.

“He’s dead. Bill’s dead.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stands and stares at me. I try to tell her that Liv and I both escaped, but tears are in her eyes. Of all things—tears. We could’ve died because of Bill, and all she can do is cry about love lost or some stupid shit. Disgusted, I turn toward the bath.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she says through her tears. She touches my shoulder but I don’t turn around. “I feel responsible…”

She turns to leave, and I don’t stop her. I’m not pardoning her part in all this. If she had fought against Bill more, if she hadn’t helped him find Liv, we wouldn’t have had to go through this tonight.

Of course, Bill might’ve killed her. Then me.

Cameron tries to help me remove my clothes, but finally gives up and has me get in the tub in my shorts. The water feels like teeth—biting hot, then icy, then hot again. I lie back against the tile wall and close my eyes as my body temperature slowly evens out. I hope Liv is somewhere warm right now, too.

Micah brings me tea. The hot drink and the bath make me feel a hundred times better and a thousand times more tired at the same time. I get out of the bath and change into jeans and a T-shirt, staring at my bed longingly. I could sleep for a hundred years.

I lean forward to stare at my jaw in the closet mirror. The spot where Bill hit me is turning weird blue and orange colors. I touch it gingerly. I wonder how long it’ll take them to recover Bill’s body, and if they’ll trace anything back to Monroe Street.

Shit!

The fatigue evaporates as I remember the computers at his apartment. I run downstairs to find Nancy in the kitchen with Sam. Sam’s arm is around Nancy, but she’s not fooling me. I know Sam is glad Bill’s gone, too. They both look startled at my sudden appearance.

“Do you have access to Bill’s computer at his apartment office?” I ask Nancy.

She reaches out to touch my jaw, her eyes now full of concern. “Are you okay?”

I swipe her hand away. “Nancy, do you have remote access to Bill’s computer?”

“Of course not. He never trusted anyone enough to give out that kind of information.”

I nod. I figured as much. “We need to get away from here,” I tell her. “Bill’s apartment—a call was traced. Liv had a cell. The police are probably there now, trying to crack his computer.”

The color bleeds from her face. Cursing softly, she presses the little-used intercom for the house. “Code Red. Front door. Fifteen minutes.” I always thought it was a stupid code, but I guess it works for emergencies better than anything else.

Sam hands me a sandwich, then runs off to pack her own stuff. Nancy leaves, too. There’s nothing upstairs I have the energy to take. Except…

“Sam, grab my guitar,” I call out to her. “And my laptop. And the little blue box from my desk.”

She nods from the top of the stairs and disappears. I follow Nancy to the office, watching her open the safe. She removes several papers and envelopes, then turns to hand me a flash drive imprinted with a skull. Her eyes are teary.

“I never thought we’d have to use this,” she says. “I guess we should be glad we got away with it as long as we did.”

I don’t say anything—don’t remind her that our safe house is set up for emergency purposes like this, ready to continue business as usual. Monroe Street has been home to me for so long, so I understand and feel her pain. “Come on, we’ll be fine. Only difference is that we’ll call it Briarcreek Avenue instead of Monroe Street.”

She sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “Yeah, I guess so,” she says, half laughing.

I take the jump drive to the workroom and start downloading the virus onto the iMacs. I feel like I’m murdering a pet or something. I almost want to apologize to them.

When I finish, I power them off and on again. Nothing. Just a blank screen.

Before I leave the room, I put in a call to Jim Rush to fill him in on Bill’s death. The FBI has the computers now, but he hasn’t heard anything as to whether it’s cracked them.

I also ask him to check hospitals. He finds out Liv is in stable condition, to be released tomorrow morning. I breathe easier.

The kids are already in the foyer when I finish. They look like they’re going on a long vacation with all the suitcases and laptops. Nancy is giving them a speech about breaking up and meeting at separate times at Briarcreek Avenue.

As the kids file out the door, Nancy turns to me. She looks like she’s about to say something, then stops. She reaches up to brush my hair aside, a familiar gesture that seems somewhat sad. “You’re going to her, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Tomorrow night. After I help you guys get situated.”

“Will you be back afterward?”

I don’t have an answer.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“They were mine, by day and night; and with them, came such a rushing torrent of fears, and apprehensions, and selfish regrets, lest you should die and never know how devotedly I loved you, as almost bore down sense and reason in its course.”

—Charles Dickens,
Oliver Twist

JACK

The new home is much smaller than Monroe Street, but it’s a place where we’re safe. It’s something I convinced Nancy to purchase a long time ago, keeping it off Bill’s radar in case anything ever went wrong.

Man, did it go wrong.

My mind is a blur. A busy night and day of transitioning to Briarcreek Avenue after the events of yesterday exhausted me. But sitting on my bike here, at Liv’s house, adrenaline—or maybe fear—has taken over.

I stare up at the darkened window behind her balcony for several minutes. What if this is a mistake? I can’t bring Liv back to that life. Can I still run away with her? What if she asks? Or, worse, what if she doesn’t? We were together once, the same. But I have no family and she has a loving, rich grandfather who’d give her anything, and can. It’s the life I want her to have, but it turns me into a loner again.

Get a spine.

I summon up enough courage to get off the bike. The large, flowery vines conveniently creep up the side of the house, making the perfect ladder. Like Romeo, I carefully climb the wet rope vines. Aching with nerves, I pull myself to her balcony and swing my legs over the rail. I try the balcony door—it’s unlocked. I open it but pause at the sight of her in bed, asleep. Peaceful. I guess I had expected her to be up, pacing the room, worried about this or that. Or me. But now, as my eyes trace the curving outline of her body, I realize she fits here, in this privileged world where all the possibilities
are
possible. She belongs to this life, not mine.

I love her too much. Can I find the strength to let her go?

…

LIV

A cool breeze strokes my face, stirring me from my restless doze. The digital display next to me says that it’s almost midnight. I throw my arm over my face. Deep sleep is what I want most but it’s out of the question. I consider going to the kitchen for some milk, but this house is so huge the mere thought of making my way across to the kitchen is exhausting.

Then it occurs to me that I was woken by a breeze. I look sharply at the door to the balcony—it’s open. My heart begins its familiar uncomfortable pounding in my chest. Who is waiting for me outside the doors? Someone Bill was working with? I sit up and grab the alarm clock on my nightstand, hefting it in my hand. He’s going to get a fight if that’s the case.

I can see him now, watching me. In the shadows, I can just make out enough features to set my heart racing—fingers hooked in his pockets, blond hair falling over his forehead in that dangerous-sexy way that makes me want to explore my darkest desires.

I don’t remember getting out of bed, don’t remember moving across to him like a magnet drawn to its opposite. All I know is that I’m within inches of him, my heart pounding so hard I can’t hear anything else. Jack’s gaze is fixed on me, the swirling colors masked in the near-darkness. He slowly reaches out to touch my cheek, like a man unsure if the desert oasis is a mirage.

“Jack.”

He pulls me to him, kissing me fiercely. I respond with a ferocity of my own, matching the pressure of his lips with mine. His hands start at my hips, curving around as I slip my arms over his shoulders to draw him closer. He tastes of wind and rain and tears, which may be the ones slipping down my cheeks. My sleep tee is hiked up around my thighs as he lifts me into the air, but I don’t care.

After a minute or an hour, Jack sets me back on earth, whispering, “I’m so sorry about everything. Such a pathetic thing to say, I know.”

“Shh…I get it. I understand.” My hands move up to smooth back the long layers of his hair. So soft without the gel to flatten it back. I caress the stubble on his cheek—he hasn’t shaved in a couple days at least. I kiss him again, then nestle into his neck, breathing in the wonderfully familiar leather and spice. I could stay in this position forever. “So what now?”

His fingers move to lightly stroke my arms, sending vicious tremors through the quietest parts of my body. “Specifically?” he asks, his lips moving in my hair.

“Well, you’re not tied to that life anymore.”

The mesmerizing motion of his fingers stops. I can feel him stiffen and pulling away, though it’s probably only a fraction of a centimeter. My heart sinks. “Liv, I—”

“You’re staying there, aren’t you?” It’s not really a question. I already know the answer.

He sighs, bowing his head and threading his arms through mine. “Yes.”

I untangle myself from his embrace. “Jack, when are you going to realize that you’re too good for that life?”

“No,
you’re
too good for it. Not me. I can’t just quit. Anyway, I need to watch out for Dutch and the others. I can’t leave them. The place would tank without me there.”

I don’t even bother to fight against the tears building up again in my eyes, spurred on by sleep deprivation and physical frustration from his kisses. “But you’d leave me.” I knew this was too good to be true.

He catches a rogue tear with a fingertip. “No, Liv. It doesn’t have to be like that. We can still see each other. Like how normal kids date.”

“Normal” has never been a word to describe our relationship. “We’re not normal kids, though. Not even close. And I can’t do what you do. I can’t even approve of what you do. It’s not in me.”

His eyes twitch slightly as he considers me. I know he’s surprised by my response. As much as I want to be with him, I can’t believe he really thinks a relationship like that could work. He turns around and splays his hands across the balcony railing, looking out over the soft lights illuminating the massive houses. “I know. You don’t need me. You’ve got a good thing going here. A shot at a real life, with college and everything you’ve ever wanted. My past would get in the way of your future.” His voice is bitter.

“Stop saying that. I know my grandfather can help you get out of that world. He’d do anything for me.”

Jack shakes his head. “No.”

I rest my forehead against his back. The “old” me might’ve agreed to dating, or maybe even trying his lifestyle. But I’m not the same person I was when I first met him only a few short months ago. I’m stronger now—and I know it’s partly because of him. But knowing that doesn’t make this any easier.

“I wish I could make you see that you’re better than all that. You’re better than ‘Z.’ You deserve more than a life of crime, and you can get out if you want to.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. Not now.”

I sigh. So much for happy endings. “I won’t give up on you. Even if you find someone else…” I almost choke on that one. Maybe I’m getting carried away, but I don’t want him to find anyone else.

He swivels around to cup my face in his hands, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming me. “There is no one else. Ever. I love you. For so long now.”

Love.

The word I’ve longed for, dreamed of, desired my whole life. Given to me by the one person I thought would never say it. The world spins around me, and I’m wrapped in Jack’s arms.

His
love
.

“I love you, too, Jack.”

And I know I do. The words are so natural, so easy, I wonder why I was never able to say it to him before. The acknowledgment is bittersweet—a fairy tale gone wrong. If only he could see in himself what I see in him. If only he could leave that damn Monroe Street.

He removes his mother’s slender gold bracelet from his pocket and fastens it around my wrist, kissing it. I slide my arms around his waist as his mouth meets mine. The kiss is different this time—desperate, even pleading. I know he wants me to ask him to stay. And I want to so badly. I toy with it in my mind—how it would feel to wake up in his arms, knowing without a doubt that he loves me. Banishing the bad dreams, the darkness. I want him so much it scares me.

But I can’t. Not until he chooses me over that life.

And he knows it.

He murmurs another “I love you” in my ear as he slips a note into my hand and closes my fingers over it, kissing them gently. “I’d better go,” he says hoarsely. His eyes travel up and down as if memorizing me, even as he backs away. In my mind, I reach out for him, pull him back to me. I almost do it.

Then he’s gone, taking my heart over the balcony wall with him. I sink to my knees and press my tearstained cheek to the cold stone of the balcony wall until the rumble of the motorcycle fades into the dark.

“I love you, Jack,” I whisper to the quiet night. “Always.”