Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (27 page)

Christos moved in on him, firing punches to Bigfoot’s face and gut. Amazingly, Bigfoot swayed drunkenly forward, swinging his hairy paws.

Christos side stepped and clobbered Bigfoot on the side of the head. The giant man went down on all fours, then reached into his leather jacket. I worried what sort of arsenal Bigfoot had hidden inside. He could easily have a gun.

Christos twisted in a tight overhand arc, firing a fist straight down into the back of Bigfoot’s neck, connecting at the base of the man’s skull. Bigfoot’s arms and legs flew out, flattening him into the cement floor face-first. He was out cold.

One of the Xanadu employees, who wore an apron, walked around the corner. “Is everything all right back here?”
 

This scene did not look good. I remembered the cops putting Christos in handcuffs. I couldn’t let it happen again. That was my cue. I grabbed Christos arm. “We have to go, now!”

He looked at me, brows furrowed, lips a tight stripe over his teeth. He was still in fight mode.
 

“Come on!” I pleaded.

His nostrils flared and he flashed clenched teeth.

I put my palms on his chest. His thick pectoral muscles spasmed, but he calmed a moment later. I pushed him out the back door.

I glanced behind me and noticed our motorcycle helmets. Christos must have dropped them when Bigfoot was about to turn me into the Missing Link. I darted for the helmets.

The employee with the apron stared at me, bug eyed.

“Don’t mind us.” I snatched up the helmets and went outside.

Christos grabbed my arm and held a finger to his lips. In a strained whisper he said, “We have to get the fuck out of here.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the alley behind Xanadu.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Bigfoot’s buddies standing in a circle in the parking lot behind the coffee shop, next to their motorcycles. Had they been waiting all this time for me and Christos to leave? My stomach sank.

Christos took his helmet from me and put it on while we crept quickly down the alley. I put my helmet on too. “Move it,” he hissed. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the side street where we’d parked.

“Hey!” one of the bikers shouted. “That’s him!”

Oh shit.

Good thing I jogged regularly. We ran as fast my slow ass could keep up with Christos. I could tell he wasn’t going his full speed, but I went mine.

He swept me up and onto the motorcycle the second we were close, then swung on and revved the engine.

Just as Christos turned his Ducati around in the street, the biker gang poured out of the alley onto the sidewalk. “Fucker’s getting away! Get your bikes!”

They turned and ran back toward their Harleys.

Oh fuckity shit.

Were these guys going to chase us?

I didn’t have a second to think about it because the engine between our legs screamed and we rocketed down the street and leaned into a corner so far over, I thought the bike was going to slide out beneath us, but it didn’t.

Christos took dark side streets and ran stop sign after stop sign. I was going to die in an accident or a motorcycle gang murder. I felt Christos’ heart pounding in his chest. It thudded as fast as mine. Perhaps he feared the same dire end.

I vaguely thought I heard the sound of Harleys behind us, but Christos’ Ducati was plenty loud with the amount of insane accelerating he was doing, so I couldn’t tell for sure.

One of the cross streets we passed had a huge bump. The bike caught air as we went over it. I literally came up off my seat and slammed down. I would’ve flown of the bike if I hadn’t been clutching Christos for dear life with my arms.

I couldn’t count how many stop signs we ran. I’m pretty sure it was all of them.

When we got to the freeway onramp, he floored it, or whatever you do on a motorcycle. We were going way faster than on the way to Xanadu.

Going around the curving onramp was like riding an insane roller coaster, but not fun at all.

We were going so fast on the freeway, the cars around us seemed to literally be standing still. How was it possible that the cars, which had to have been going sixty-five mph, seemed motionless?
 

Fortunately, Christos expertly wove the bike in and out of the deadly obstacle course. Once we cleared the pack of cars that had been near where we entered the freeway, the bike’s engine screamed and we took off even faster.

I’d never gone so fast in a vehicle on the road in my entire life. Over Christos shoulder, I saw the lane lines flying at us in a literal blur.

When the freeway curved, we started to lean. I chanted in a quivering voice, swept away by the wind, “Ohgod, Ohgod, Ohgod.”

I slammed my eyes shut and prayed I wouldn’t die. There was nothing sexy about this ride. It was scary as hell.

Half way home, he slowed down to a reasonable speed. He glanced behind us repeatedly, no doubt checking for the biker gang.

My heart pounded. Could a nineteen-year-old have a heart attack? I was very close to it. Every cell in my body wanted to run away from the danger closing in on me, but there was nowhere to go on the back of the moving bike.

Besides, my legs and arms were wrapped around danger. And I wasn’t letting go of him.

I was crazy for sure.

When we arrived at my house, Christos leaned the bike on the kickstand like it was no big deal. He helped me off. My legs were rubber.

He picked me up and carried me upstairs, cradling me like a baby. I leaned my cheek against his shoulder. I was safe.

At my door, he asked, “Keys?”

I opened my tiny clutch purse. I can’t believe I hadn’t lost it on the motorcycle. I fished out my key and handed it to him.

He opened the door and carried me over the threshold. I didn’t mean it that way, I meant through the door. It’s not like we’d just been married.

He laid me down on the couch and sat next to me. “You all right?”

“Fine.” I was traumatized.

He stroked my hair out of my face. “It’s tangled. Sorry I didn’t give you time to put it up in your helmet.”

“It’s okay.” I felt dreamy. My adrenalin was probably all used up for the year.

“I should go.”

“No, don’t, please,” I whimpered.

“It’s late. You should sleep.”

He stood. I grabbed his wrist with both hands. “I don’t want to be alone. What if the bikers come?”

I saw gears turning behind his eyes.

"Ok,” he said reluctantly.
 

I felt his powerful arms slide beneath me. He picked me up.
 

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To bed.”

My chest seized for the fortieth time that night.

Tease.

“Don’t worry. I’ll crash on the couch.”

I don’t know if I felt relieved or disappointed. He sat me on the edge of the bed and took my heels off. I felt like Prince Charming was doing the glass slipper routine.

“Do you have boxers or a t-shirt or whatever? To sleep in?”

They were on a folding chair in the corner, but I was too tired to get them. I waved my arm toward them.

He picked them up and held them out to me. “I’ll go outside so you can change.”

“No, don’t go.”

“Okay, I’ll turn around.”

I tried to pull my dress off, but I felt so completely sluggish, I couldn’t seem to figure it out. “Help,” I mumbled, my dress half over my head.

I felt the dress slip over my head. I was wearing nothing but bra and panties. In front of Christos. If I hadn’t felt so exhausted, I might have done something I would regret. I gave him a sleepy smile.

He held out the t-shirt. “Arms.” He slid it over my head. I felt like a little girl. I dropped my arms.
 

“Aren’t you going to do that bra through the sleeve trick?” he asked.

“I’m too tired.”

“Front or back?”

“Huh?”

“The clips, or whatever.”

“Back.”

“That should be easy.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I chuckled.

He smirked a dimple at me. The next thing I knew, Houdini had my bra undone and I felt the cups fall away.

“You can do the rest. Unless you want me to do it for you.”

I did, but I wasn’t saying anything. I fished it out through my sleeve and held it out to him like a, well, like I’d hooked a fish.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Hamper.”

He took it and tossed it in, then faced me, fists on hips.
 

I felt my nipples harden. Crap. No hiding them under my cotton shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest and giggled. Was I drunk? I’d had no more than two or three glasses of wine at the art gallery a few hours ago. But I was, because of Christos. He was intoxicating.

“Do you want the panties off?” He held up the boxers

Why did Christos saying the word panties make me want to take them off and hand them to him? It was probably a regular thing for him.

Christos was so confident, so relaxed. He never had to try to do anything. He just did. With no effort. So unlike…
him.
I shivered.

“You cold?”

I shook my head and frowned. “No. Just tired.”

“Okay, no boxers. Under the covers, Bonnie.”

“Who?”

“You know, Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Oh. Because we’re like two outlaws on the run from the long arm of the law?” I smiled. I liked the sound of that, totally romantic.

Christos smiled. “Yep.”

“And Bigfoot,” I giggled.
 

“Who?”

“The guy who tried to run off with me into the mountains to make caveman babies? Back at Xanadu’s?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. He bent over and picked me up again. I put my arm around his neck. My un-bra-ed breast pressed against his rock hard chest. My nipple was pencil eraser rigid at that point. He had to have felt it.

He set me gently at the top of the bed and pulled the sheet and thin blanket over my legs. I held my hand on his shoulder the entire time.

He straightened to stand, but I clutched his shirt in my fist. “Stay with me.” I wasn’t drunk. I was high as a kite.

“Couch. Mentor, remember?” He smiled the warmest smile I had ever seen. His thick eyelashes enhanced the depth of his blue eyes. He dimpled his panty dropping grin.
 

Not helping.
Boldness swept over me and I sat up before I could think through my actions. I threw my arms around his neck.

“Please. Sleep with me. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He caressed my cheek. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be on the couch.”

I resorted to blatant manipulation. I pouted.
 

He smiled slyly. “Not gonna work. Couch, me. Bed, you.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Good night.”

Reluctantly, I released him and laid back down. He pulled the covers up to my chin. Christos Manos tucked me in! I think I fainted before he was able to turn out the lights and close the bedroom door. He left the door open a crack.

I fell into sleep the second he was gone.

Chapter 17

I woke up to whimpering.

At first, I thought I was still dreaming. It came from the living room. I slid out of bed and tip-toed to the bedroom door.

Christos mewled on the couch. “No, I didn’t, stop. Please don’t. It wasn’t, they aren’t…” He was mumbling. He sounded boyishly afraid.

Without hesitation, I went to him.

I kneeled beside the couch. His back was to me. “Christos,” I whispered.

“Wha—?”

“Christos, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” I leaned toward him. I wanted to comfort him, but was afraid I’d startle him. I touched his shoulder. He twisted toward me, startling me. His eyes popped open.

Even in the near-darkness, they seemed to glow. It must have been the moonlight streaming through my living room. It was ghostly. He looked haunted.

For a second, I thought he didn’t recognize me.

“Samantha,” he murmured. His face softened. He reached out and cupped my cheek.

I leaned into his hand. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“It’s better off if you didn’t.” His face darkened suddenly and he pulled away.

“Christos?” I squeezed his arm. “You can talk to me about it. Christos? It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. I promise.” And I meant it.

Bitch. Slut. Whore. Suicide Watch.

Tease.

I knew what it was like to be judged.

He sat up on the edge of the couch, elbows on his thighs. His head hung low.
 

I sat next to him. I stroked his knee. “It’s okay.”

“You are so good to me,” Christos whispered.

That was news to me. I thought I’d been mainly a total bitch to him.

He slid the knuckle of his finger affectionately across my cheek. I inhaled a quivering breath. His knuckle tugged at my lower lip. My exhale stopped short.

“You’re too good for me,” he said. His face knotted painfully.

I wanted to shout,
No I’m not!
 

He hung his head between his fists and started to shake with silent sobs.

I kissed his hair gently over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I wrapped my arms around him. “It’s okay, Christos. I’m here.”

He leaned into me, then threw his arms around me and squeezed. He cried for awhile, I don’t know how long. When he was finished, I stood and took his hands in mine. “Come to bed.”

He hesitated.

“Just sleep.” I led him to my bedroom and we crawled into my queen-sized bed. I wrapped myself around him. Hearing his heart thump beneath my ear, I felt completely safe.

For the first time in two years, nothing that led up to Taylor
,
and all the names and horrid labels and shame that came after—

Emo. Goth. Witch. Sorceress.

Bitch. Slut. Whore.

Tease.

—seemed to matter anymore.

I wished I could feel that calm and peaceful forever.
 

I feared that Christos was a dream, and morning would steal him away from me forever.

But I slept so peacefully beside him, it almost didn’t matter.