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  “What did you two talk about?” He stared at me intently.

  “Not much, just about some tour he said I should go on.”

  “They’re always trying to push that stupid tour off on people.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, I guess.” He raked his hand through his hair. He seemed irritated.

  “Have you been on it?” A lock of his hair stuck out to the side and I had a sudden urge to fix it.

  “On what?” he asked distractedly, his gaze on the pictures my mom had set up on the mantle. I was in a few of them, looking ridiculous.

  “The tour?” I prompted. I was trying to get him to stop looking at my ugly pictures. Especially the one I had a sequin headband on my forehead for one of my dance recitals.

  “Ah… no,” he scoffed, bringing his gaze back to me.

  “Then how do you know it’s stupid?”

  “I guess it’s not, if that’s what you’re into.” He sounded disgusted at the prospect of such a thing. “Are you into that sort of thing?” He lifted his brow in question, his voice mocking.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It sounds like it could be fun.”

  “Go for it then.” He snapped and shrugged out of his jacket.

  I wasn’t sure where all venom was coming from but it irked me. “Maybe I will.” I crossed my arms like an angry kid.

  “Go then,” he snipped back, his lips pressed into a firm line. He tossed his jacket over the back of the couch.

  “Fine,” I huffed. “I will.”

  A pregnant pause passed between us, neither saying anything. The silence was palpable. My bravado was dwindling and I shifted uncomfortably under his unrelenting stare.

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky…,” he said, his voice taking a hard edge.

  “Pardon?” I asked, not sure, if he was talking about the boy Lucky or getting lucky…

  He exhaled, making a face. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll give you an Indian name,” he taunted.

  “Yeah, right,” I laughed, thinking he was kidding but his face held no expression. It was disconcerting and I didn’t get it. “Are you upset with me about something?” I blurted not meaning to. My brow creased.

  He audibly sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Nah, I just want to get this over with.”

  “Oh.” My stomach clenched. I knew it was stupid, but I felt like crying suddenly. Freaking Donkeyhole.

  “So, what do you want to watch first?” He pulled his jacket down and took out two movies from his pocket.

  I stared at the DVD’s not registering what he was saying—too caught up in my pityfest.

  “Amber…” He shook the movies in the air. “Which one?” he asked.

  I refocused. Somehow, in my moment of self-pity, I had forgotten the real reason he was here. “I guess the original and then the other one.”

  “Sounds good,” he said and tossed his jacket back on the couch.

  Standing, I grabbed the movie and put it inside the DVD player. When I turned back around my stomach flipped at the sight of him sitting on my couch looking so…freaking hot, while I doubted I even looked warm. It wasn’t fair. Grabbing the remote, I sat back down and turned on the television. Even though I tried to keep my eyes front and center, I couldn’t help but take a few small peeks at him. His long legs were kicked out in front of him and his arms were crossed. A breathy sigh slipped out, which made him turn. He lifted his brow. I leaned forward and grabbed my coffee. “Do you think we should take notes?” I asked trying to cover my gawking.

  “I think I can remember what happens.” His lips twitched.

  “Oh right. Sure, of course.” I faced forward and stared at the television. I was very aware of his proximity to me and found it hard to breathe. I was so nervous my palms were sweating. Not fifteen minutes into the movie, I had to go to the bathroom. I stood up.

  “Where you going?” he asked, picking up the remote and hitting pause.

  “Ah…I just need to …ah…use the bathroom.” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans.

  “Want me to wait?”

  “Nah, you can let it play.” I hurried from the room and up the stairs. Once in the bathroom, I rinsed the sweat from my hands and checked my face in the mirror. It was red and my eyes looked overly bright. I put on some more deodorant. I even did a hair-flip like my mom and almost fell over. “Keep it together,” I told myself and left the bathroom.

  fifteen

  When I came back downstairs, Viktor was sitting forward on the couch, his arms braced on his thighs.

  “Did I miss anything?” I asked and sat down on the couch.

  “Yeah.” He gave me a knowing smile and in spite of the irritation, I felt earlier, my heart still went pitter-patter.

  “They are planning out their happily ever after,” he said and looked at me intently, his expression unreadable. “I’m afraid it’s not going to work out too well though, especially for her.”

  I shivered and tried to laugh off the uneasy feeling that passed over me. “Yeah, I think you may be right.” He didn’t smile like I thought he would, instead he turned back toward the television and settled back into the cushions. This room wasn’t overly bright but with the rain, it made it even gloomier than normal. Usually I turned on all the lamps when I was in this room, but since we were watching a movie, I didn’t. Not that it mattered, I was having a hard time concentrating on the movie anyway. My eyes kept getting drawn back to his beautiful profile. With the exception of the two small scars on his face, his skin was flawless. His lashes were long, casting shadows on his high cheekbones. He was pale though—everyone in this town was, including me, now. I used to have a nice golden tan from my stint at the beach but not now. The lack of sun made me just a pale as everyone else. Except I looked sallow in comparison and they looked like porcelain dolls, especially the Sparklers. I wasn’t sure if that was just makeup though, that made their skin so flawless. If it was, I was getting some. Maybe Glinda would know. But then again I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to talk to Glinda after last night. Looking at Viktor now… it was hard to believe he and Vincent were even brothers.

  “Are planning on watching the movie?” he asked without turning.

  Color bloomed to my cheeks. “I am watching.”

  He turned then and my stomach swirled.

  “You’re watching something,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

  I threw a pillow at him.

  He grabbed it so fast his hand was a blur.

  I blinked stupidly.

  “Quick reflexes,” he said and stuffed the pillow behind his back with a smug smile of satisfaction.

  I wanted to hit him with another pillow. “I doubt it,” I said. “More like dumb luck,” I muttered.

  His eyes were on me; I could feel it.

  “What did you say?” I could hear the edge in his voice. Like he couldn’t believe someone dared speak to him in such a way.

  I had an urge to laugh, but somehow, I kept it together and didn’t. “What?” I turned and gave him a bored look.

  His expression was priceless.

  Ha! Take that …I wanted to taunt him, to pay him back for being snarky earlier.

  After my initial moment of bravado though, I think my snarkiness may have backfired on me. The conversation squelched to a halt. Silence ensued and we sat there staring at the television. I didn’t even know what was going on in the movie.

  His arm stretched out across the back of the couch and if I moved just an inch, his hand would touch me. I readjusted, suddenly wishing I could get just a bit closer. He smelled really good. I rubbed my arms.

  “You cold?” he asked.

  “Yeah a bit,” I lied baldly.

  “C’mere,” he said, his voice sounding soft—velvety—sexy. Shivers slid over me but it had nothing to do with being cold. I scooted forward. He leaned up, pulled an afghan from behind his back, and tossed it at me.

  It hit me in the face. Oh. My. God!
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  “Gee, thanks.” I balled it up and held it in my lap.

  His lips twisted upward and his eyes flashed—I could see payback written all over his face.

  I purposefully ignored him and pressed my body back into the cushions, throwing the afghan over my lap. I was closer though. We weren’t touching or anything, but I was in arms reach now. I felt my hair lift and looked over at him.

  “You warm enough?” his breath whispered across me.

  I shivered again.

  “Mmm, not really,” I lied again. I was pathetic.

  He moved closer and wrapped his arm over my shoulder pulling me toward him. He didn’t feel warm though, he was cold. I immediately felt bad. “Here, you want to share?” I lifted the blanket.

  “Why?” He gave me a curious look.

  “You feel cold,” I said.

  “I’m not…” he started and then stopped. A slow grin spread over his face. “Sure, we can share if you really want.” He lifted his brow.

  “Hey, I’m just being nice,” I defended.

  “Of course you are,” he said his tone placating.

  I hit him in the stomach, playing, but my fingers crumbled on impact. “Ow,” I complained, holding my aching fingers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You got rocks under your shirt?” I laughed.

  “No,” he said, but his smile grew. “Just fit.”

  “I daresay.” It was impossible not to smile back at him. His face was so close I could see the small scar near his perfect lips. I wanted to touch it…fine that was a lie. I wanted to kiss him and well…touch it too, just with my mouth. I squirmed in my seat, suddenly feeling so many mixed emotions. He was so…

  His lips tilted up at the corners and his fingers twisted in my hair, pulling me closer… his mouth inched forward and I was sure I was about to get the best kiss of my life…

  He swore under his breath and let go, leaning back. “You need to get that?”

  Not registering what he was saying, I sat there completely mesmerized.

  “Amber…”

  I shook my head. “What?”

  “Don’t you need to get the door?”

  “I don’t hear anything.” My head slowly drifted back from lala land.

  “You will.” He rubbed his forehead.

  Confused, I turned and looked behind me at the door. A minute later, I heard the distinct sound of someone knocking. I spun back around and gawked at him. “How’d you hear that?”

  “I didn’t,” he said and pointed out the window. Ken’s squad car was very visible out the window. He shrugged, a small smile tugged on the corners of his lips.

  I cut him a sideways look. “Right….” I disentangled myself from the blanket and stood. I wasn’t sure how he could have seen Ken, since his back was to the window. “I should…um… yeah, get that.” I pulled my hair up, a nervous habit I had and wrapped it into a loose bun on the top of my head, walking to the door.

  sixteen

  By the time I made it to the front door, Mom was already standing there. Ken was speaking in hushed tones and she was listening intently. They both turned and looked at me.

  “Oh hey, Officer Warren,” I said. A flash of him only in a towel popped into my head and my face heated.

  “Ken,” he said giving me “the raised eyebrow-look” like he knew exactly why my face was burning red.… “Remember?”

  “Oh right,” I stared at the floor awkwardly. “Sorry.”

  Ken glanced into the living room. “So what are you kids up to?”

  “Just some research for an English paper we are doing together,” I said, looking up.

  “Ah, the dreaded Shakespearean paper,” he said knowingly.

  “How’d you know we were doing it on Shakespeare?”

  “Your Mom told me.” He gave me strange look.

  “Oh.”

  “Well,” I exhaled. “I guess I better get going back to the movie.” I started backtracking into the living room. A potted plant blocked my hasty escape.

  “Now that you are here, I wondered if I might be able to ask you a few questions.”

  “Well,” I hesitated, wanting to kick the stupid—giant plant for blocking my escape. “I kind-of do, have to get back.”

  “This will only take a moment,” he assured me.

  “All right,” I said, hoping Ken wasn’t in a chatty mood.

  Mom leaned forward, whispered something in his ear and then walked back down the hall to kitchen.

  Ken made a big show of pulling out a pencil from his pocket protector, along with a little notebook, and flipped through the pages. “So your Mom told me you went to the Twilight festivities yesterday, is that right?”

  “Yeah, I did.” My brow creased. I suddenly felt like I was on one of those cop shows and was being questioned—like for real—and here I thought he just wanted to ask me silly questions like what kind of flowers my mom liked.

  “Were you alone or did you go with someone?”

  “I was alone, but then Glinda met me at the Visitor’s Center.”

  “Glinda Reynolds?”

  “Um,” I hesitated. “I’m not sure what her last name is.”

  “She about this tall?” he said, and lifted his hand in the air. “Blonde?”

  “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Um, at the dance.” I frowned watching him jot something down on the paper.

  He flipped through some more pages. “Was she with anyone else?”

  “Um…” My mind blanked.

  “Amber…”

  “Oh, she was with Vincent too,” I explained. “We all went there together but I left early.”

  “Vincent Roth?”

  “Yeah, him, I mean…” I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

  “Why did you leave early?”

  “I had a headache.”

  “What time were you home?”

  “I guess around midnight.” I blushed, not mentioning what I heard, or more accurately put—what I heard…bow-chica-bow-wow.

  His brow creased as he seemed to consider my answer and then he cleared his throat awkwardly. Maybe he was he was thinking the same thing I was. He readjusted his stance and flipped though some more pages. “Do you know how she was getting home?”

  “Nah,” I shook my head. “I guessed she had a ride. I mean she told me to go on without her, that she wanted to stay and hang out some more…she was having a good time,” I explained. Something was wrong, I could tell. “Is she all right?” I shifted uncomfortably.

  Ken cut me a strange look. “Why would you think she wasn’t all right?’

  “Cause you are asking me about her,” I said, and widened my eyes at him.

  “These are standard questions,” he snipped. “It is my job, Amber, I have to ask,” he said, puffing out his chest, as though this explained everything.

  “Yeah, I get that, but why are you asking me?”

  Obviously, something was wrong. “Is she all right?” I asked again, feeling squeamish.

  He exhaled heavily. “It’s confidential.”

  “What?” My stomach churned. Now I definitely knew something was going on.

  Ken shook his head and lowered his voice. “Listen, I’m not supposed to say anything.”

  “I won’t say anything,” my voice took on a whining edge and my skin prickled with worry. I may have been mad at Glinda but I certainly didn’t want anything to happen to her.

  Ken whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Calm down Amber, she is going to be all right.”

  “Oh my God!” I gasped, my worst fears taking on a life of their own.

  He widened his eyes at me and flicked his gaze to the living room—he looked freaked.

  “What happened?” I lowered my voice, sensing his distress.

  He shook his head.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “There was another incident, but she is going to be fine,” he said finally, albeit reluct
antly.

  I covered my mouth, covering another gasp. “Ken, you have to tell me…what happened?”

  “I have already said too much, Amber,” he explained. “I am putting my job on the line here.” He gave me a stern look.

  I felt bad, really I did. The last thing I wanted was for him to get in trouble but I had to know if she was all right. “Please,” I begged again.

  He glanced warily into the living room and let out a pent up breath. “She’s at the hospital recovering.”

  “Recovering from what?”

  “She was attacked.”

  “What—Where—When?” I flummoxed.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve already said…”

  “You’ve already said what exactly Officer Warren?” Viktor asked, stepping silently into the room. His voice was pleasant enough but there was tightness around his lips, like he was angry or upset about something.

  “Viktor,” he acknowledged, inclining his head. “I was just asking a few questions to Amber about last night.”

  “Is this about the attack?” he asked, tonelessly. A strange vibe emanated from him.

  Ken seemed relieved he brought it up.

  “Yes, it is.” His phone bleated and he looked down at the number. “Excuse me, I need to get this.” He lifted his phone and stepped out the front door onto the porch.

  I whirled around and faced Viktor. “You knew?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice or the screechiness for that matter. “And you didn’t say anything?”

  He looked at me, his light gray eyes unsettling. “I just got off the phone with my dad,” he said and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe I thought so low of him.

  “Oh.” That shut me up.

  Ken stepped back inside before I had a chance to say anything more.

  “Officer Warren, anything new?” Viktor asked, his hands were balled at his sides.

  Ken’s shook his head. His eyebrow twitched and he rubbed at it. “There is no change in her condition.”

  “How bad is she?” I asked, staring directly at Ken.

  Ken looked to Viktor for permission, who gave his acquiesce, which immediately rankled me. Since when does Viktor get a say in police business—then I remembered who his father was…must be nice.