Tell Me When (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Amber

Over the next couple of days, Marcus and I quickly fall into a routine of boyfriend and girlfriend. We don’t see each other much at school, other than when we get together in the mornings to work out. I usually go over to his apartment after dinner, when he’s not working or coaching, and snuggle up with him while he helps me with my math. I might have gotten an A on the last test, but I’m not fooling myself into believing it was all me. Marcus had everything to do with it.

Marcus leans in as I work on my math question, his minty breath brushing my ear. “How many mathematical logicians does it take to replace a lightbulb?” His voice is low and husky and sends all kinds of chills over me.

I laugh and turn to him. “How is it only you can make lame math jokes sound sexy?” Not giving him a chance to reply, I press my lips against his for a soft, lingering kiss. I pull away slightly, my mouth a hair width from his. “So, how many mathematical logicians does it take?”

“None,” he murmurs. “They can’t do it, but they can prove that it can be done.”

I laugh, again, like I always do with his math jokes. I can’t help it. The reaction on his face makes it worth it, even if the jokes are pretty bad. He enjoys telling them as much as I love hearing them.

I turn back to my assignment and push the page across the small space between us at the kitchen table. “Is this right?”

He takes it from me and mentally works through the equation. “Almost. You need to add these values first then square them.”

I slump back in the chair. Its green color doesn’t match the others at the table. None of them match but the guys don’t seem to care.

“I’m never gonna get this,” I groan.

He kisses my temple. “Yes you will. You’re just tired. You had another nightmare last night, didn’t you?”

I let out a heavy sigh. I don’t even have to sleep here for him to know I’m still struggling. I must really look bad. “Am I that predictable?”

The only night this week I haven’t had a nightmare was when I slept over on Friday. Maybe that had to do with the tequila shots. But I’m not my mom. Alcohol won’t solve my sleep issues, and I’ve seen how dangerous it is when you constantly use it to numb the pain. When Dad left us, Mom turned to the heavy stuff. She was brilliant at hiding what she was doing. For a few months. Until it started affecting her work, and her partners told her she needed to get straightened out or she’d lose her job. She did, and has been sober for the past twelve years.

Until now.

“Kitten?”

I peer up at Marcus. He’s watching me, a frown on his face. “Yes?” I say, hoping he didn’t notice I zoned out while he was explaining the equation.

“You okay?”

“I’m just worried about my mom. I still haven’t gotten hold of her.” I’ve been phoning her and leaving messages since Friday. So far, she hasn’t returned my calls.

“I wish I knew how to help. Your mom’s at least made an attempt in the past to stay sober. My stepdad never has.” He shrugs but it’s hard to miss what he doesn’t say out loud. That I’m lucky. The worst I have is a mother who’s off the wagon and who’s dealing with depression. She didn’t abuse me the last time she turned to alcohol.

I push myself off my seat and sit on Marcus’s lap, my legs straddling his hips. Marcus doesn’t like talking about his parents, but I can see how much his situation kills him even if he won’t admit it. It’s responsible for the slight wall still between us. The wall I haven’t tried to bring down, because I need it as much as he does. I can’t risk what we have, our feelings for each other, becoming more serious.

Marcus watches me, amusement, lust, curiosity burning in his eyes. I run my fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky feel of it against my skin. He turns his face up to look at me, and my lips plummet to his, our math homework momentarily forgotten.

Part of me wants to take his hand and lead him into his bedroom. The throbbing ache between my legs, which seems to come to life whenever I’m near him, is pressed against his hardness and it’s driving me wild. But the part of me that doesn’t reside in the throbbing area warns me I’m not ready to go that far, as much as I want to believe I am, and Marcus isn’t pushing for it, either. Ever since he found out how badly I was tortured, he’s given me a little extra space.

I just worry how much space he’d give me if he knew the truth.

Marcus grins against my lips. “We’re never going to get any homework done at this rate.”

Grinning back, I pull away. “Sorry, I needed the distraction.” I start to climb off his lap but his hands on my hips keep me in place.

“Tell you what. How ’bout we finish our math assignments, then we’ll go to the youth center and play ball. Deal?”

“Deal.” I give him a quick peck on the lips and crawl off his lap. The promise of playing is all the incentive I need.

Once we finish our homework, Marcus drives me back to my dorm so I can pick up my gym clothes. I gather my mail from the mailroom. With the exception of one envelope, which is addressed to my dorm room, the rest was forwarded from home. Mom didn’t even put it all in one envelope and send it. She had her assistant cross out the old address and write in my current one.

On our way to my room, we pass two giggling freshmen girls who stop to ogle Marcus. He pays no attention, which warms me on the inside. Not that I wasn’t already warm after our hot make-out session at his apartment, before we did some serious math homework.

We duck into my room and I toss the unopened mail on my desk. Brittany’s not here, much to my delight. I’m not sure how she’ll react to Marcus, and I don’t need the usual glare she reserves for me to accidentally turn him into an ice sculpture.

I remove my track pants and T-shirt from my drawers, as well as my sweatshirt. “Wait here,” I tell him.

He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans. “Where you going?”

“To get changed.”

“You can get changed here.” A devilish grin creeps onto his face. “I promise I won’t look.”

Before, I would have said no because of my scars, but since he’s already seen them, that doesn’t matter anymore. Now it has to do with modesty. I’m not used to guys seeing me half-naked. Guys who aren’t Paul. Or Trent.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I lamely explain.

I’m washing my hands when the two freshmen girls enter the bathroom.

“That guy you’re with. Isn’t that Emma Kincaid’s boyfriend?” one of them asks, as if everyone should know who Emma is.

I shake my head. “No, he’s my boyfriend.” Except instead of saying it like it’s the truth, it comes out more like a question.

The other girl giggles. “I could have sworn they’re together. I saw him leave her dorm room a few weeks ago. It was late at night so she would have had to sneak him in. She couldn’t stop talking about him the next day.”

Emma and Marcus? She never said anything about that to me, but it would explain how he knew about Trent. He must have seen a picture of Trent and me while he was in Emma’s room.

My stomach twists.

Emma. Marcus. Together.

Having sex.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Marcus

Amber returns a few minutes later, but she’s changed. And I don’t mean her clothes.

She’s quiet and I have a feeling she’s withdrawn to a place that has nothing to do with me. Or everything to do with me. I can’t tell which.

“You okay?” I ask, wanting back what we had before she left for the bathroom.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. I’m not sure what I’d say even if she did give me a chance.

I walk with her down the stairs. We’re side by side, but it feels like the distance between us is stretching. Unsure what to do, I let my mind drift to the conversation with Dave this afternoon. I’d taken the call in my room, while Amber was working on her math, so as not to disturb her.

“Have you talked to Alejandro lately?” he asked.

“No. He’s skipped on the last practice, but Juan said he was sick.”

Dave let out a heavy breath. “I talked to his mother this morning. She’s worried about him, but he won’t talk to her about what’s goin’ on.”

“You want me to talk to him?”

“Would you? He trusts you, Marcus.”

That’s the real reason I want to go to the youth center. I need to talk to Alejandro and see what’s up. I have a feeling there’s something more going on than his poor math mark. And if he’s not there, I’m prepared to scour the neighborhood until I find him. Starting with where Carlos and his dickheads hang out.

I hadn’t planned to bring Amber, not when it could be dangerous. But she seemed so distracted while doing her homework, what with everything going on with her mom. Before I could dwell on the risks involved, the words slipped from my mouth and I asked her if she wanted to join me.

So now I have to worry about what’s going on with Alejandro
and
Amber, and both situations leave me feeling like I’m walking across a wire suspended over a crevasse.

“Did something happen in the bathroom?” I press.

She swallows hard but keeps looking at the steps. I reach out and squeeze her hand. She doesn’t pull away, which is good, but she doesn’t squeeze back, either. “You can tell me. No matter what it is.”

She worries her lip. “How do you know Emma?”

I startle at the name. I’ve mentioned Emma before, but never explained how I know her. I was focused on Trent at the time, and Amber never questioned me about her ex—best friend. And let’s face it, the reason I know Emma isn’t a conversation I want to have with Amber, especially now.

But I have a bad feeling she already knows. Or at least knows some twisted version of the truth.
Fuck
.

“It’s not what you think,” I grumble even though I’ve already been tried and found guilty.

“And what’s that?”

Since I want to avoid having this conversation in the stairwell, I say, “I’ll tell you everything, but not here.” I want to smile and reassure her that everything is okay, but it’s hard to make your face muscles obey when the girl you care a lot for isn’t sure she trusts you.

I clench my fist, ready to slam it into the wall, but decide for once to show a little restraint. I do, though, slam the door open when we get to the bottom of the stairs. The loud bang causes Amber to flinch, making me feel like a bigger piece of shit for letting my anger get to me.

Once we’re outside the building, I lead her to where I parked my car in the nearby parking lot. I want to hold her, but it’s better if she sees my face while we talk. Then she’s more likely to trust me.

“I met her at a party a few weeks ago,” I say once we’re inside the car. A few students walk past the front of the car, oblivious to the tension inside. “I didn’t know who she was at the time, and it was before I started tutoring you.” I pause, watching for Amber’s reaction. She nods but gives no indication of what she’s thinking. “She flirted with me and I ended up going to her dorm. Yes, I was planning to have sex with her.” A mix of emotions crosses Amber’s face but none I can get a grip on. “We didn’t in the end. I saw a picture of you, Trent, and Emma, and all I could think about was you.” And him. “I left after that. I swear I never had sex with her.” Never mind she was puking in her trash can at the time. Amber doesn’t need to know that.

“I believe you,” she says, voice soft.

Those three words have more impact on me than I could have ever envisioned. After everything she’s been through, I can’t imagine it’s easy for her to trust anyone. Not just because of the psychopath who kidnapped and tortured her. Too many people she’s cared about have let her down.

“I swear I haven’t had sex with anyone since the first time I saw you in the gym, when you glared at me.”

Her eyebrows draw together into a puzzled line. “But what about that night when you confused me for a one-night stand? You left and didn’t come back.”

Inwardly I groan. Is that what she thought all this time? That I spent the night screwing another girl? “I was pissed at myself for what I almost did. I drove down to the lake and didn’t come back until later that morning. I haven’t wanted to be with another girl. Just you.” It feels weird saying that but it’s true. Even when I went back to Emma’s room, deep down I didn’t want to do anything. No one other than Amber has had this kind of hold on me, which is both exhilarating and scary.

“I’m sorry I acted the way I did,” she says. “But I’ve hurt Emma enough. I don’t want to hurt her even more if there was once something between you.”

“There wasn’t. I swear.” I want to pull her onto my lap and kiss her senseless, but the damn steering wheel’s in the way. I settle for a small kiss on her lips, mine barely brushing against hers. A promise of things to come.

We drive to the youth center. On the way, I explain that I need to find Alejandro first. I don’t explain why and Amber doesn’t press for an explanation. She nods, understanding this is important to me.

I thread my fingers with hers. “As soon as I’ve talked to him, we’ll play ball.”

We stop at the youth center and check in with Dave. He still hasn’t heard from Alejandro, and none of the guys he hangs out with have seen him since yesterday at school. I wait while Dave calls Alejandro’s mom.

They talk for a minute or two before Dave hangs up. “She says he’s not there. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“I’m not sure, but I might have an idea.” I look at Amber. “Stay here with Dave.”

“I’m coming with you,” she says firmly.

“It could be dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

She levels her gaze at me. “I’ve survived a lot worse, Marcus.”

I want to say that dealing with a lovesick stalker and the leader of a gang aren’t the same, but then remember the scars on her back and that she survived being raped. She’s tough. A lot tougher than most people. Which means she’s going to be stubborn about this.

I give a curt nod. Hopefully she’ll at least stay in the car while I talk to Carlos.

It doesn’t take long to track him down. He and his merry band of losers are hanging around a couple of benches in the courtyard behind my old high school. Why make it tough for your customers to find you if you can hang out after hours on school property? It’s not like anyone patrols the area during the day, even on the weekend. The cops tend to only come out at night.

The five men laugh and pretend to be laid-back, unconcerned. There’s not a single laid-back bone in their bodies. Every part of them is fully wound up, ready for trouble.

I park the car in the empty parking lot, where I can keep an eye on Amber. “I know you’ve survived hell, but I need you to stay in the car. For my sake. If things get bad, you need to call nine-one-one. These guys have guns and mean business.”

She grips my arm. “Then maybe the police need to do this, not you.”

“I wish it were that simple. But it’s not. And it’s something I have to do. For Alejandro and his family.”

Amber opens her mouth. I still the argument on her lips with my finger. “You need to trust me. This is the only way I can help him.”

Her mouth shuts. I can tell she doesn’t agree with my plan, but knows nothing she says will change my mind.

I give her a quick kiss on her lips, just in case this is the last time I’ll be able to do that.

Silently praying nothing goes wrong, but at the same time relieved I’m not here alone, I climb out of the car. While my parents might not give a damn about me, it’s nice someone cares enough to watch my back.

Someone I don’t deserve.

As I approach Carlos and his losers, I scan the area for additional threats and for Alejandro. The air feels heavy, tense. Several crows search the ground for discarded waste, attracted to the stench of trouble.

At the sight of me, the men move closer to Carlos and take up a protective stance, hands on hips. Even though I can’t see any weapons, I know they’re carrying heat. They never leave home without it.

“’Sup?” Carlos nods at me, a smirk on his ugly face.

“I’m looking for Alejandro,” I say stiffly.

Carlos gestures to his oversized apes. “As you can see, he’s not here.”

“You know where he is?”

The smirk widens. He steps closer. It takes every ounce of will not to step back and give him the satisfaction.

“And why do you think I’d tell you?”

I can’t tell from his expression whether he knows or is just shitting me. I don’t bother answering. Instead, I glare down at him. Not that my additional three inches to his six-foot frame does much to intimidate. He might have lynchmen do his dirty work, but that doesn’t mean he’s let his body go to shit. He’s as lethal as any of them.

His gaze darts to my car, and the smirk transforms into a leer on seeing Amber. “I see you brought your latest lay. Tell you what. I’ll tell you what you want to know, and I get to show her how a real man fucks.”

I make the mistake of clenching my hands into fists.

Carlos laughs. “So, it’s like that, is it?” He fires off a stream of Spanish. His men laugh and the biggest ape makes a move toward the car.

I grab at him, but my hand doesn’t have a chance to make contact before the guy next to me slams his fist into my gut. I double over from the impact. Shit, what’s that guy’s hand made of—iron?

Knowing I’m outnumbered and don’t stand a chance in hell of surviving this, I straighten, ready to swing at whoever’s closer. My fist rams into the smaller ape’s face. I don’t have time to enjoy the satisfaction. A strong hand lands on my shoulder and whips me around. My eye gets in the way of someone’s fist. The impact is so great I stumble backward.

A foot shoots out in a martial art move, and kicks me in the ribs, knocking the breath out of me. An overwhelming pain keeps my breath from returning, and I collapse to my knees.