The Bad Boy's Dance (22 page)

              “What?” I said in response to Caleb’s disapproving glance. “It’s not like they were guarding it or anything.”

              We had to elbow aside several people to reach the front. I would have been content in the back, but Dana was not one to let drama pass her by. We reached the front, and oh a sight we did see.

              “Whoa…” Caleb murmured.

              Asher lifted Brett up by the collars of his shirt and shoved him, sending him flying into a tree. Before the guy could make a move, Asher was lifting him again.

              Swinging, Brett landed a punch on Asher that had me cringing, but the crazy boy didn’t even look affected. He merely circled his jaw for a second before executing a series of moves that were too fast for me to see, and resulted in Brett crouching on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and his arms circling his stomach.

              Nobody was intervening. Brett’s friends were on the side, too stupefied to make a move, like they had been with Tristan. Nobody was stopping Asher, and I could understand why. He was in his zone, the zone that had him labeled a criminal. He was lethal, fierce, and unstoppable.

              And if left to his own devices, he could very well demolish Brett. I knew for a fact that strapped under his jeans was that small pistol he’s shown me in the woods, and no doubt his shoes his a knife. He didn’t want to seriously harm Brett.

              He wanted to teach him a lesson.

              Asher reared back to deliver a move that I was certain would cripple Brett for months.

             
Don’t do it, you stupid girl. You don’t know what you’re getting into.

             
But, per usual, I was too obstinate to listen.

              Rushing forward, I stepped in front of Brett just as Asher snapped his arm. The blow was powerful, and I was in the air for a few seconds before hitting the ground with a
thud.

              There was a beat as Asher registered what had happened, and the horrified look that swept over his face made me want to console him. He dropped besides me, lifting me so my head was on his chest, and my shoulders rested on his lap.

              “My God, are you crazy? What is
wrong
with you?” he asked in frustration. “Damn it!”

              I was too busy trying to breathe through the pain to answer. Asher’s panic was substantial once he realized this. “I killed her. Oh God, I killed her.”

              I lifted a finger, indicating that he should give me a second. Dana and Caleb chose this moment to unfreeze. Caleb would have lunged at Asher if I weren’t currently being cushioned by him. The only person restraining him was Dana.

              “Don’t!” I growled at him. Caleb glared at me, but thankfully kept his trap shut. “Ugh, that hurts. Can someone slap me next time I do that? Please? Also why does everything smell like cookies? Am I dead?”

              I sat up, rubbing my stomach absently. Huh. It had been awhile since I’d had a punch that powerful. A part of me wanted to lift my shirt and check out the bruise and compare it to my past ones.

              It was
her.
It was the Ivy that Jared had loved. It was the Ivy who let herself get thrown around like a rag doll for ‘love’.

              I thought I’d killed her.

              “Ivy?” Asher asked gently, reaching forward to clasp my cheeks and direct my blank gaze to him. “Why did you do that?”

             
Because I need you to think twice before you throw a punch. I need to you to hesitate before you put yourself at risk.

              Swallowing, I met his cobalt eyes, letting the tranquility they brought wash over me.

              “Because it would have hurt you more than him.”

Chapter Twenty

     Stop Bleeding On My Couch

“You get up.”

              “No, I asked you first!”

              We’d spent the past fifteen minutes arguing over who should go to the kitchen and make smoothies. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Dana was sprawled besides Caleb on my living room floor, watching reruns of
The Vampire Diaries.

             
“I shouldn’t have to get up since you’re making me suffer through this,” Caleb complained, gesturing to the T.V.

              “How can you be ‘suffering’ through anything? We get the Salvatore brothers and you get Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline to ogle at. Perfectly fair,” Dana rebuffed, rolling onto her tummy.

              Caleb pointed at me. “How about we make Ivy go?”

              “Um, sorry pal, owner’s rights. This house is mine tonight, and I am its ruler. I serve no one!” I said gleefully.

              They rolled their eyes simultaneously. Over the past 48 hours, I’d blabbed that line constantly to them. My parents were going to a business party in Los Angeles and were spending the night, since they’d taken Jodi (who was famously know for being fussy on planes). Paul had returned to his university for an important psychology seminar, and Spencer was off boozing it up with his friends.

              Which meant I had the house to myself all night.

              Caleb had immediately suggested a party until I reminded him of my last drinking experience. I was simply grateful my Ke$ha impersonations hadn’t ended up on YouTube.

              “Enough! Everyone, to the kitchen!” Dana commanded, standing and pointing. She sent us her patented Death Glare when we didn’t budge, so with heaps of grumbling, we found ourselves standing in my kitchen.

              “Do any of you
know
how to make a smoothie?” I inquired.

              Dana peered into my fridge and removed a few things. “It can’t be that hard.”

              “I’ll get the blender!” Caleb declared.

              We plugged in the blender and waited while Dana threw in a variety of fruits, sugar, milk, cinnamon, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and ice.

              “Think she has any idea what she’s doing?” Caleb muttered to me.

              “Not a clue.”

              Which is why, neither of us were really surprised when the blender exploded, splattering goo over the kitchen counter and our clothing.

              Caleb swiped a finger over the goo on his cheek and sampled it.

              With a shrug, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and scraped some goo from the counter tiles.

              “What?” he said in response to Dana and I’s stares of disgust.

              “I still don’t understand why you won’t let us sleep over,” Dana sulked, flopping next to me on the couch.

              Removing her shoes from my lap, I unceremoniously dumped her onto the ground. “Because you destroyed my kitchen?”

              She sat up, patting her hair. “Not even! And we cleaned it up, okay?” she huffed indignantly.

              “Caleb,” she implored. “Get her to invite us to sleep over. You have the charm of a goldfish, but sometimes fish are cute.” With a glare in her direction, Caleb tried to give me a stern look, but failed miserably.

              Dana was right. We’d cleaned the kitchen pretty easily, and Caleb helped by pretty much licking everything edible- or inanimate, anyway- in sight. The reason I didn’t want them to sleepover was because I needed
me time.
For the past few weeks it had been nothing but drama, Asher Grayson, mischief- and did I mention Asher Grayson?

              One night to myself wasn’t asking too much, surely? By the way Dana and Caleb were making such a fuss, you’d think I asked them to go run along the Hudson River in their birthday suits.

              “Fine! I know when I’m not wanted!” Dana clamored to her feet. With another huff worthy of the greatest dragon, she grabbed Caleb’s sleeve and dragged him to the front door.

              I tackled them in a hug before they had crossed the threshold. “Don’t be mad,” I said, giving her my best puppy dog.

              She patted my head like you would an unruly toddler. “I can’t be mad. You still haven’t returned my Ed Hardy shoes and my grey jeans.”

              Wow. Three cheers for friendship, everyone.

              “See you tomorrow, Ives,” Caleb bid me goodbye as he ducked into the warmth of Dana’s car. It had started to snow delicately, and I could already feel the gooseflesh rising on my arms.

              “Remember,” Dana started sagely, placing her hands on my shoulders and giving me a shake. “I’m only a phone call away if you decide I was right and that you don’t have the balls to spend the night alone.”

              “Thanks,” I said dryly. “But I’m a big girl. Now buzz off before the snow falls for real.”

              With a last wave, Dana and Caleb sped off, hopefully beating the snow home. Hauling my favorite blanket from the hall closet, I retreated to the sofa. Nothing particularly good was on, so I settled for watching old ABC family movies.

              I must have dozed off halfway through the movie, because I woke up tangled in the blanket, half my body thrown from the couch. Rubbing my forehead, I straightened, trying to disentangle myself from the octopus blanket.

              Suddenly, a loud knock startled me from my efforts. Someone was at the door. Was that what had woke me up? Distractedly, I stood and took a step forward, only to end up flat on my face, having tripped over the cursed blanket.

              Freeing my legs, I darted to the window, but I couldn’t see past the shadows. Who would be here at this hour? According to the clock, it was a bit after midnight, and the snow outside was falling heavily. It was no-man’s weather.

              Well, I certainly wasn’t going to be the dumb chick in the movies that opened the door for a serial killer. Slinking into the kitchen, I grabbed the metal bat my Dad kept hidden in case of burglars and crept towards the door.

              Another booming knock almost scared the blood right from my veins. Swallowing away the cottony taste of fear in the back of my throat, I somehow made it to the front door. Now maybe if my limbs would stop shaking like a newborn calf, that would be great. “Who is it?” I called, trying to sound tough and unafraid. I’m pretty sure I just sounded like a yowling cat.

              Silence. Then a heavy
thunk,
like the sound of a body leaning against the door. “It’s Asher,” the serial killer said.

              What? Why was Asher here?

              I threw the door open and was met with a tall, shadowed figure. I fumbled to switch on the porch light.

              “What happened to you?” I gasped.

              Asher was bruised and bloody. His shirt was shredded, blood was caked on his skin, and I could see open gashes bleeding from his body.

              He stepped forward before faltering, stumbling to the side and sliding down the doorframe to the ground.

             
Holy guacamole, what am I supposed to do? Quick-what’s that medical show Mom hates?

             
After a few seconds of gawking at him, crouched in a bloody mess on my porch, I bent down and braced my knees. Hooking my arms around his shoulders, I somehow managed to lift him enough to drag him over the threshold. Now it was the journey to the couch. Asher was completely inanimate. The only indication that he was conscious was the slight twitches of his eyes.

              “C’mon, Asher,” I mumbled. “Work with me here. We’re almost to the couch. Just stay…stay awake. Okay? Just stay awake.”

              Don’t ask me to testify how I hauled Asher to the couch. He was super tall and muscle-bound, but somehow my wiry frame supported him. The first thing I did was lay him back against the cushions and remove his shoes.

              Then I took a few minutes to close the door and freak the hell out.

             
Who did this to him? I’d seen the way Asher threw around Brett like he was a sack of potatoes. Heck, he’d accidentally punched me! If there was anything I knew with certainty, it was that Asher Grayson was lethal. Taking him down was no easy feat.

              And, more importantly, how did he end up here, of all places? It was extremely difficult to drive in the snow fall outside, and it would have been near impossible in his condition.

             
Um, Ivy? He’s practically dying on your freaking couch. Worry later!

             
Right. I scrambled to the bathroom, fumbling for the first aid kit the size of Asia Mom kept stowed away for emergencies. We had almost everything in there, one of the perks of having a nurse as a mother.