Threat (7 page)

“So we should get ready to leave in about the next hour.”

“Ready for what?”

My brows furrow. “Uh, for the road trip. Or did you forget
everything that happened five minutes ago?”

“You can leave whenever you want. I'll see you there.”

I want to laugh. She actually thinks we're going to go up there
separately. Cute. “No, I think you misunderstood, we're going
together.”

She stares me down. “No one said that.”

“Yes, your dad said that before you got here.”

“Bullshit.” She rolls her eyes as she folds up her paper
plate and throws it in the trash.

“Did you miss the part at the end where he mentioned precious
cargo? And me taking care of you? It’s over five hundred miles
away and it'll take us two days. He doesn't want you out here alone.”

She scratches her head and shuffles her feet. “Don't pretend
like you give a shit what happens to me. I don't need you to drive me
around.”

“Believe me, I don't,” I say. “I don't want your
dad to kill me, or my mom to be any more pissed at me than she
already is.”

She looks me up and down with narrowed eyes, studying me like she can
read my mind or some shit. “I know what you're doing, David
Banducci.”

I lean in, towering over her modest height. “Threat,” I
say in a tone that lives up to my name. Her eyes widen just slightly,
telling me I've done my job.

“You're just like your mother, aren't you? All you want is
access to my dad and his connections, his money and his house,”
she says in a voice so low it's almost hair raising. I didn't think
she had it in her. I'm impressed. “I can tell you right now,
you won't get it. Not as long as I'm around.”

Well it's a good thing she won’t be around much longer, isn't
it?

I feign innocence, dropping my gaze to the ground. “Hey look,
things with my dad aren't so great. I just needed to get out of that,
you know?”

Leah remains cold as ice, my attempt to appeal to her emotions is
pretty much dead on arrival. She doesn't budge. She doesn't soften
even a bit. This shit is going to be more difficult than I thought.
I’m starting to think she's too smart for her own good—but
what she doesn't know is that I'm smarter.

“Besides, our parents want us to bond, it means a lot to your
dad. He thinks us driving up there together will help us do that. It
was his idea.”

She twists her mouth, and let's out a long sigh, her foot shuffling
against the marble flooring. And there it is, I've found her weak
spot—her father.

“Besides, it'll be fun.”

“Fun? You really think spending the next two days with me will
be fun?”

“We can make it fun. If you're not a giant bore, that is.”

She groans.

“Seriously, do you want to go away to college and still be
stuck in your shell?” I ask. She looks at me and I add, “No
pun intended.”

Her lip stiffens and she shoves me, or at least attempts to shove me,
with her palms against my chest.

“I didn't mean it like that, I swear,” I tell her with a
chuckle. “So? What do you say?”

She hesitates before finally answering. “All right. Fine.”

My lip curls into a smile. Two days alone on the open highway, a few
days at a secluded cabin. I'm in like Flynn. And by the end of this
trip, Tatter'd Ink will belong to me.

“Perfect.” I grab an apple and toss it into the air
before taking a big bite of it. “Be ready by one. And pack
light, we're taking my bike.”

LEAH

How did I get myself into this? I could be in Orlando with my BFF,
but instead I'll be stuck on the back of a bike, in the middle of
nowhere, with my asshole stepbrother for the next two days. And I
don't have anyone else to blame for it but myself.

As much as I hate him, he's right. And him being right just makes me
hate him even more. With college looming just around the corner, I'm
dreading the idea of spending the next four years going unnoticed,
being ignored by every guy, spending all my time studying and none of
it
experiencing
. Change is daunting and I don’t know how
to do it. But I dread that if I leave college the same old boring,
stick in the mud Leah Parker, that's who I'll be for the rest of my
life.

And I don't think I can handle spending the rest of my life alone.

I glance at myself in the mirror several times while I pack my
toiletries. Not out of vanity, but because I can barely recognize
myself in the mirror. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it's exactly
what I need.

A loud rap at the bathroom door pulls me out of my reverie. “Five
minutes,” Threat hollers as he wanders past the door and then
down the stairs.

Once my clothes are all packed tight in my overnighter, I change into
a pair of cutoffs and a crop style tank top. The desert heat is going
to be unbearable, which is yet another reason why taking his
motorcycle is ridiculous.

Before I exit my room I go to grab my Kindle, quickly remembering
that it's been ruined. Great. What the hell am I going to read for
the next week?

With a long groan I throw my bag over my shoulder and head
downstairs. Threat is already out front, obnoxiously revving his
engine and being a fucking show off; nothing new to see there.

“You know we'd be a lot more comfortable in the range rover,”
I tell him, hoping to change his mind.

“Your dad has a Range Rover, huh?”

“No, it's my car.”

He sucks his teeth. “Of fucking course is it,” he mutters
bitterly.

I tilt my head at his unnecessary vitriol. “What's that
supposed to mean?”

“I'm sorry if my bike isn't as fancy as your $70,000 car.”

Oh.
That's
what he's mad about. It's not like I was trying to
brag or anything. “It's not that big of a deal, it was just a
graduation gift,” I explain. An early one that dad gifted me
when I got accepted to Stanford. Plus, he thought it would help me
make friends during senior year. It didn’t.

He shakes his head, topping it off with a resentful laugh. “And
this is a top of the line bike. My daddy didn't buy it for me, sweet
cheeks.”

Seriously? Why is he making such a fuss about this? “Um,
congrats? It was just a suggestion, sheesh.”

“We already decided we're taking my bike.”

I know I should let it go and make this trip as painless as possible.
But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“No, we didn't.
You
did. That thing isn't even safe!”

“I ride it every day and
I'm
still alive.”

I roll my eyes. “You're alive, for now.”

“I know what I'm doing. We'll be fine. Take that stick out of
your ass and try something new.”

“I do not have a stick in my ass. And I'm just saying, it's hot
and it's a very, very long trip. We'd have AC, a radio, comfortable
seats and more trunk space if we took an actual car.”

He jumps off of his bike, planting himself in front of me. “Nah,
you see, with this baby, we'll have the open road, wind in our face—“

“Bugs in our teeth,” I interject.

He snorts. “Yeah, that too. Besides, this is your first dare.”

Did I miss something? “Dare?”

“Lemme guess, you've never played Truth or Dare before.
Probably because no one ever asked you to.”

“Yes, I've played Truth or Dare before, but what does it have
to do with... anything?”

“When I said I'd make this fun, I meant it. So we're going to
play a little game as we go,” he says, grabbing a helmet and
handing it to me. “And Truth or Dare is it.”

I glance skeptically at the helmet and then back up at him. “Do
I get any say in this?”

He shakes his head. “Don't worry, I won't make you do anything
weird.”

His promise doesn't exactly instill confidence. I take the helmet
from him and stare down at it. There's a skull on the front of it
that looks a hell of a lot like the tattoo on his bicep. Oh God, I
have his tattoos memorized already.

“You're not going to make me get a tattoo are you?”

He chuckles as he secures my bag to the back of his bike. “Nothing
permanent, scout’s honor,” he replies. “And I
suggest you put your helmet on. You're gonna need it.”

He fastens his own helmet beneath his chiseled jaw. Why the hell does
he
still
look good even with that thing on? And why am I
looking at him like this to begin with? I reluctantly fumble to snap
mine in place, and catch a glimpse of myself in his mirror while—I
just look ridiculous in mine.

“Dare number one,” he says as he revs the engine, once
again. Like, seriously, how many times does he need to do that? “Take
a ride on my bike.”

“Really, that's it?”

“That's it for the first one.”

“A little silly to waste a whole dare on something I was going
to do anyways, don't you think?”

“You believe that if you want,” he says flashing me a
toothy smile. Okay, now that makes me nervous. “We only have
two days so hop on.”

I stare at it for a long minute. “You know people have died on
motorcycles.”

He rolls his eyes hard. “And they’ve died in cars,
planes, boats...people have even died walking, believe it or not.”

“Yeah, but the percentage of fatalities is much higher in
motorcycle related accidents.”

“Well thank you, Ms. Almanac. But that's part of the reason why
this is a
dare
.”

“Fine,” I say with a shrug, “If I die, it's on
you.”

“Just get on the damn bike, Leah,” he commands me.

I attempt to climb on behind him, but it's not quite as easy as he
made it look. He reaches out to me, taking me by the arm and holding
me steady in a way that's almost, dare I say, gentleman-like? When
I'm finally nestled behind him I sit back and take hold of his hips.

“That's not going to work,” he says. “You need to
get closer.”

“I'm fine,” I reply bluntly.

“I’m serious, hold on to me,” he says, taking my
arms and wrapping them around his waist so that I'm practically
hugging him from behind. That whole gentleman ruse was really short
lived, wasn't it?

“No,” I repeat with even more gusto. “It's too
fucking hot for that.” And I think he just wants an excuse for
me to touch him.

“All right, suit yourself,” he replies as we zip out of
the driveway with a jolt.

Shit, I think I just got whiplash. Calling him a speed demon would be
the understatement of the century. It only takes a second for me to
grab on tight to his waist in complete fear for my life. He takes off
so absurdly fast that I barely even have time to look back at the
house, lament, or pray to God that I don't end up in a million pieces
all over the asphalt.

The second we get out of the suburbs, Threat is flying down the
street at break neck speeds. The only thing going faster than his
bike is my heart pounding in my chest. The wind whips at my face and
body, blowing my hair every which way, in my mouth and in my eyes.
Plus I swear I just saw my life flash before my eyes.

We're quickly on the interstate and he's weaving in between cars and
cutting people off like a maniac. I duck my head behind his back,
clinging to him for dear life with my eyes practically welded shut.
Even without sight, I can hear him whizzing past cars, and I brace
myself for inevitable impact. I'm damn near sure just one of those
cars is going to change lanes and knock us off the road, which will
mean lights out for us both.

“Slow down!” I holler at him.

“Huh? What? I can't hear you!” he shouts back.

My voice is easily drowned out by the loud roar of his motorcycle. I
wonder if he can even breathe considering how hard I'm holding him,
but I really don't care. Seriously, fuck him for putting me through
this! And what was my dad thinking when he okayed this?

In a good thirty minutes or so we're outside of the city. Traffic
thins out, Threat brings his speeds down a notch—thank God—and
I begin to get used to the bumpy ride of his bike. That is, until he
turns a corner. I shriek when he zips around it, it's like being
whipped around in a roller coaster, except without the protective
bar. We’re almost completely on our side, and yet somehow, we
end up right-side up again.

“Please don't do that again!” I yell.

“Oh, I won't,” he shouts back at me. “You'll like
this even better.”

Out of nowhere I feel the motorcycle lift from beneath me. We're
right side up and he's popping a god damned wheelie on a public
street! My eyes widen with panic. This man is not just crazy, he has
an actual, legitimate death wish. The motorcycle finally comes
crashing down hard against the ground, right before he comes to a
screeching halt at a red light.

I sit there, pressed against his back, completely and utterly
stunned.

He twists his around to see me as best as he can. He's got that
mischievous smile across his face, the one that reminds me that he
lives to torture me. He puts his hand on my wrist and says, “Hold
me a little bit tighter, why don't you?”

I quickly pull my own hand away.

“Slow down! And no more fucking tricks, you’ll get us
both killed!”

He chuckles. “Don't worry, we're almost there.”

“Almost where?” I ask. We're not even out of the state
yet. But before he can answer, the light conveniently turns green and
he zips on out yet again.

The scenery is a blur of colors and streaks of lights as we pass
street after street, house after house. After several miles the
houses begin to spread out with farmland and fields filling in the
gaps. The road that we travel on narrows and eventually becomes
little more than a dirt path. And soon after there are no houses or
businesses, or any buildings at all flanking either side of the road,
just trees and brush. The forest goes on for miles and miles, with a
bright yellow sun hanging over our heads.

Where is he taking me? Dad and I used to go to the cabin every
summer, up until a few years ago, and I don't remember ever taking a
route like this.