Starr Gone Page 9

  “She may not want to be found. She may not want you to find her,” Frank says so matter-of-factly with such loathing and contempt, I actually consider punching him in the stomach. The dirty eye often works just as well without the verbal, in your face, undertones or the physical contact of a punch. The least amount of physical contact with Frank, the better.

  Christian leans between the seats. Remorse consumes his face. “Nobody hates me more than myself. I’m not making any excuses for what happened, and you’re right, she may not want me to find her, but that is exactly what I am going to do with or without your help.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Frank says. “I care about Starr, and I’m going to find her. You can rot in hell for all I care.”

  The seat rumbles as Christian collapses against it.

  Frank turns his attention back to me. “Now, where were we?”

  The way he spoke about Starr, the strength of his feelings, the depth of his emotions, his declarations of love—he can’t possibly feel anything for me, anything more than the doped up, endorphin high horn dog he is. I pull away from him.

  He pulls me back. “Are you teasing me?”

  “I’m just not in the mood right now.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  I struggle against him. “Frank, no.”

  He studies me. I squirm, fighting to keep him out. If he sifts through my baggage, my mental shit, he’ll realize the full extent of my damage.

  “Is everything alright?” he whispers. His warm breath tickles my ear.

  “Everything’s fine. I’m just worried about Starr.”

  “I know the feeling,” he sighs, still holding my hand. He massages the worry line, the age line, the love line, the veins, the knuckles, the fingertips. It would be easy, so very easy to give in to the pleasure roving up my arm, but I don’t want to be led down a path that ends with hurt.

  “Your hands are so cute,” he says. “Who would ever guess that a beautiful little pixie with the most delicate hands could exact such deadly force?”

  “Deadly force?” I scrunch my forehead.

  “You took down Sami and Jody single-handedly. Then you knocked out Jude not once, but twice,” he says.

  “Actually, three times. When I went back for the laptop, he thought I returned for him. I showed him otherwise.”

  “Three times, and from the sounds of it, you took out Hulk’s nephew. You’ve the kiss of an angel and the touch of the devil.” He smiles sweetly, so sweetly, my heart skips a beat, and I think I’m going to die of a sugar overdose.

  These feelings that I’m feeling can’t be healthy. Not long term anyway. When he gets Starr back, he’ll forget all about me and the promises he made without even knowing it. No, I will not be that girl.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Starr

  The sun rests low on the horizon. Soon it will be night. Soon I can cry for all that I’ve lost in the last twenty-four hours.

  Treadwell bursts into the room.

  From my limited experience with him, I don’t think he’s capable of entering a room without sending everyone into a tailspin. It’s not in his nature. “Jessica, you’ll be happy to learn that most of your team got away, but no matter, I’ve still got you, and in the grand scheme of things, you’re who really matters.” He scratches his palms back and forth. I remember the first time he scratched his palms together on the day of the leadership exam. The day my life changed forever. Chills climb up my spine. I swear he does this for effect. He was probably that kid who ran his nails across the chalkboard too. “I thought I’d reunite you with one of your old team members.”

  My heart drops. Treadwell said they got away. Who didn’t?

  On cue, Jude walks into the room. Upon seeing him, I turn away. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of even acknowledging his presence. The bad taste in my mouth does nothing to help my empty stomach. If I had eaten, tonight’s dinner would be all over the floor.

  “Aren’t you going to say ‘Hello,’ to your team member?” Treadwell taunts.

  I stare out the window. Treadwell needs to realize I will fight him every second of every day. I will never give into him. Never.

  “Thomas, take a fifteen-minute break. You’ll both stand watch tonight. In the morning, we’ll bring in Samantha and Jody Lynn.”

  “General, do you think that’s such a good idea?” Jude says. “Sami was going to shoot her that night. She’s a psychopath.”

  “Psychopath?” Treadwell says. “Samantha? No. She may demonstrate more violent tendencies than most females, but she’s no psychopath. Not yet anyway.” He laughs at his joke. “Besides, she was severely punished for her behavior. She won’t take matters into her own hands again.” His heavy footsteps march out the door. “Jessica, enjoy your night. I will see you first thing in the morning.”

  Left alone with Jude, I have two choices. Ignore him or guilt him for his betrayal. I don’t have the energy or the heart to fight with him. I’ve been hurt too much over the past twenty-four hours. I close my eyes and pretend to go to sleep instead.

  Unfortunately, Jude has other plans.

  “Starr?” he says, “Starr, could I talk to you a minute?”

  I ignore him. I will never be in the mood to talk to him again.

  “Please Starr?” he pleads in a soft, needy way. His voice might have an effect on some people, most people, but not me. I wish I had a pen. With my current state of mind, I could probably even use a paper clip. “Alright fine,” he sighs. “I’ll just talk because we don’t have much time. Starr, I don’t want you to think I betrayed you. I did what I did for you.”

  “For me,” I hiss at him. He recoils away. “You did this for me?” I thrust my zip-tied hands at him. I almost punch him in the face with them but he pulls back just in time. “You betrayed me. You betrayed the team.”

  There’s too much—too much emotion, too much pain, too much of everything. “You told me you were on our side.”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I never said that.”

  The lies are too much. I want to rail against him, make him pay for what he did. “Yes, you did. When we met you at Dunkin’ Donuts, you said you would be on our side.”

  “No, I said I would protect you. That I was dedicated to your protection. I never said anyone else’s.”

  I open my mouth to argue. Then shut it, as I think back to our conversations when I questioned his loyalty. He said he was dedicated to my protection. He never mentioned the team. Not once. I assumed when he promised to protect me he meant everyone.

  How many mistakes will I make before I figure out a way to protect the people I care about?

  “So, you’ve been working for the Organization the entire time?”

  There’s a heavy silence in the room, as the blanket of truth stifles the air and suffocates the remaining oxygen out of it. “Yes. I was thinking about defecting and joining your cause after our meeting in Gatlinburg. It bothered me that the Organization would kill two innocent girls in order to get what they want. Everything changed the day I saw Sami and Jody at the ranch. They didn’t see me, but I knew it was them. I knew then that you were probably lying.” I glare at him. He puts up his hands. “Or at least that the Organization wasn’t capable of doing the awful things you accused them of. Five minutes later, I approached the General and explained the situation to him. He was eager to learn more about your plans and decided to bide his time before picking you up. He wanted to find out how much you and your team were able to discover about the Organization. The day the connection was made with the Jonathon Road Church was the day that every member of your team became a target.”

  “How could you betray me like that?”

  “I didn’t betray you. I was honest with you.”

  “We trusted you. You betrayed your friends.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Let’s be honest Starr. You didn’t trust me. You all had your doubts. There were conversations I w
as not a part of, whispers behind closed doors. I was never considered a friend to anyone except maybe you.”

  I shift away from him and stare out the window.

  “Starr, I care about you. I’ve never met anyone like you and would never betray you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off.

  “Starr, you should be looking at me the way you looked at Christian.”

  Like an arrow to the heart and twisted out the back.

  “I didn’t betray you. He did. I would never betray you. I’ve been nothing but dedicated to you.”

  “This conversation is over.”

  “But Starr, I—”

  “Enough,” I snarl. “If you don’t stop talking, I will scream and everyone will come running.” I wait for the full weight of my warning to hit him before I add, “What do you think your precious general will do to you then?”

  At that moment, Thomas marches into the room, takes one look at the two of us, and narrows his eyes at Jude. Jude sighs and sits down on the rocking chair. Thomas points at the bed. “Lay down.”

  I’m so filled with relief at the sight of him, I do as I’m told.

  As for Jude, well, he’s lucky I don’t have one of those necklaces that’s a garrote.

  Chapter Twenty

  Di

  Returning to Qualla Boundary without Starr seems wrong. A dramatic shift in the universe occurred twenty-four hours prior, and Earth has yet to return to its axis.

  Throughout dinner, Frank’s eyes keep sliding over to mine. Sometimes I hold his gaze. Most times I don’t. I can’t. The voices in my head argue with my weepy, sentimental heart that whimpers, “Ahhhhhhhh.”

  Christian tolerates the meal with Ben’s parents as best he can, and when I say tolerate, I mean he answers their questions—albeit one word replies. He doesn’t rest his elbows on the table as he casts his death glare at us, warning us to shut up and finish eating so we can find Starr.

  For him, it is all about finding Starr. Nothing else matters.

  For the rest of us, it’s about finding Starr, but keeping him safe. In short, every move matters. We’re playing a chess game with the Organization and they’re always two moves ahead. We need to be three.

  Once the plates are cleared and we’ve assured Ben’s parents that we all—including Christian—will be at breakfast, we disappear into the backyard. I remember our first night in Cherokee. Christian on the hammock, Ben and Coda in chairs, Starr walking out with Frank a step behind, and me, not sure where I fit into the rhythms of this group, this life, this world.

  The hammock’s still here. The chiminea, the plastic Adirondack chairs, all here. Ben, Coda, Frank, Christian—all here. Starr? Location to be determined. Me? I’m positive I fit with these individuals who feel more like family than my own. I’m more confident in the person I’m becoming, but with Frank extending his hand to me, I’m not entirely sure where I will land.

  “Please,” he says. I hesitate. It’s only my hand but I feel like it’s a gateway to my heart. “Please,” he says again, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. I don’t put my hand in his, but I don’t fight him when he takes it and leads me over to the hammock.

  He drapes his arm around me. I can feel the bandages wrapped around his chest. “Do you need to change the dressing?”

  “Ben will do it when we go to bed. For now, I’m just where I want to be.”

  It’s a gateway all right.

  Christian paces back and forth in the grass. “I’m going back to headquarters tonight. We’re wasting time here.”

  “Christian, you of all people cannot go banging around on doors in the middle of the night,” Ben says.

  He grunts. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not fine. Let’s come up with a plan of action before any of us rush off into trouble since we always manage to find it. Besides, there’s no way John will be able to finish the cars tonight.”

  “Will he be done in the morning?” Christian says.

  “He should be, but you never know with him.”

  “Well, if it’s not ready, I’m borrowing someone else’s,” he says, falling back against a chair.

  “Christian, you can’t go knocking on doors looking the way you do. Everyone is going to recognize you. We gotta buzz ya,” Coda says.

  He stands up. “Let’s go. I need to find Starr, and I’ll do whatever’s necessary to accomplish that.” He races into the house. Coda glances at us, shrugs, and follows him.

  While they’re gone, the three of us develop a tentative plan. Ben suggests bringing in someone named Rebecca. Evidently, she’s a trusted friend, and neither Jude or the Organization know her. Coda and Ben will take her to the dude ranch—that’s most likely where Starr is. While she asks around, Ben and Coda will survey the area. Christian, Frank, and I will drive back to Asheville, check the courthouse in case Starr shows up, and observe headquarters to see if we can find any clues. Unfortunately, we can’t hang out at the courthouse to wait for Starr in case she shows up because the police station is across the street—poor planning on our part.

  While Ben and I strategize, Frank plays with my hair and runs his fingers along my neck and jaw. It’s difficult to maintain focus. At times, I give him an exasperated glance. He grins back impishly. Other times, his touch affects me too much to even to acknowledge it, and that grin, that reckless grin could undo me.

  Christian returns. His hair, his beautiful hair gone.

  “Damn Christian,” Frank says, his tone a mixture of surprise and awe. “You got nothing left on top.”

  I think Frank thought Christian’s good looks came from his hair. Don’t get me wrong. It certainly gave him stand-alone quality. But what remains without the hair is just as impressive. His blue eyes, once disarming, now pierce right through you, but that change has more to do with his desperation to find Starr than a haircut. His skin tone appears darker, although it might be a trick of the light.

  He doesn’t respond to Frank. “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”

  “Frank and I are coming with you. Ben and Coda will check out the ranch with Rebecca,” I reply.

  If he’s shocked they’re bringing in someone new, he doesn’t show it. “That’s fine. Five a.m.,” he says to us and stands up.

  “You promised Mom you would stay for breakfast,” Ben says.

  Christian stares at him, the annoyance clear. “I will stay as long as we eat early.”

  Ben stands to meet his glare, but Coda’s the one who breaks the tense silence. He yawns a loud moan-grunt. It becomes a chain reaction. “I’m going to bed. See you all in the morning—bright and early.”

  “Where should we sleep?” I ask Ben.

  “You can stay in your room again. Christian and Frank can sleep on the sofas. Knowing Mom, she set them up after dinner.”

  Without looking at Christian, Ben, or Frank, especially Frank, because, let’s be honest, I can’t give away more today than I already have, I grab my bags and walk to my room. Frank follows me in. “Could I talk to you a minute?”

  “Sure,” I reply with nonchalance worthy of my Goth days.

  He sits down on the bed and pats the spot next to him. I sit like it’s not a big deal.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Why?”

  “I just thought that when we kissed in the car, it was something more than just relief at getting away from the Organization.”

  I pull at the comforter. “Oh.”

  “Was it? I mean... did you feel something more?” He sounds nervous. Never in all our years of friendship has he ever sounded nervous. This makes me even more nervous. I will not answer first.

  “Did you?”

  He lifts my chin, so we’re face to face. “Yes, I did. Di, I know the day of the shooting I told Starr I was in love with her, and I was, but it wasn’t the all-consuming obsession it was back home. Ever since our bus ride down south, I’ve been thinking about someone other than Starr, someone who has become her own person,
someone I enjoy spending time with, someone who is the exact opposite of Starr in many ways, that someone is you, Di. I am crazy for you, and it is not the Florence Nightingale complex—that I promise you.”

  No one has ever declared his feelings to me. No one has ever spoken to me with such unbridled honesty. My face, my neck burn with fire. A fire I cannot hide. A fire I cannot extinguish. I don’t trust myself to speak. How could I? I nod like an idiot.

  He stands up. “I just thought you should know because someone once told me that I shouldn’t hide my feelings and miss an opportunity to express them,” he says, smiling at me. He swoops down and kisses my forehead. His fingers graze the edge of my jaw. “Goodnight Di.”

  He opens the door to leave. The action rouses me. “Frank!”

  “Yes?”

  “I care for you too.”

  “Good.” He smiles that smile that stretches across his face and spreads into the room. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well my beautiful little pixie.”

  My head clears as soon as the door closes behind him. When he came into the room, I thought he wanted to have sex. He’s always been more horn dog than gentleman, or at least that’s what I always thought but he didn’t try to feel me up. He didn’t even kiss me on the lips. Almost as if he really does care about me.

  Frank caring for me—no one at Webster would have guessed that. Frank and I together would be as surprising, well, as surprising as Starr and Christian together.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Starr

  Darkness falls across the room. I lie in bed and listen to the sounds of the inn going to sleep. A distant door slams. A passing goodnight to a guard who must be outside my door. Water running through pipes. The wheezing air conditioner. As time creeps by, the sounds become less frequent. I wait for Thomas and Jude’s steady, snorey sounds of sleep, but the air conditioner washes out their noises.

  My adrenaline level starts to spike in anticipation of my great escape. I take several deep breaths to calm down. It’ll do no good if I give myself away with an erratic heartbeat. Once I’ve got myself under control, I wiggle out of bed. My bound hands and ankles prove something of a challenge but nothing impossible. Nothing that a rock won’t slice when I get out of this prison. I shimmy my feet over to the window. I can take as much time as I need to. As long as I don’t make a noise, my bodyguards will never know what I’m doing. I grasp the clasp and unlock it. I don’t wait to see if anyone heard me before I push into the bottom of the window frame to force open the window. My heart races again. It’ll be the only noise I’ll give away if I can help it. I rest my butt on the window sill to swing my legs out, but the screen stops my momentum. Shit. It’s next to impossible to remove a screen without making a noise especially with my hands tied.