Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (29 page)

“I’m not sure you should be doing that, Miss Charlotte.”

I broke off the kiss with a breathless gasp. Rocket was standing right behind Donovan,
hands on his hips in disapproval.

“Rocket,” I said, straightening in the chair. “Donovan was just helping me with …
my contacts.”

Donovan raised his brows humorously.

Rocket furrowed his. “Did you swallow them?”

Rocket was like a giant Pillsbury Doughboy with a kind face and a mushy body, which
made him the best hugger around.

“No, I didn’t swallow them. He was just—” Before I could come up with another plausible
lie, I looked over and saw Strawberry Shortcake, a departed nine-year-old who could
make me cringe at forty paces. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so it was actually nice
to know she was still here and okay. But she wasn’t what gave me pause. While she
also stood with her hands on her hips, disapproval lining her pretty face, right beside
her stood a tiny girl with a short dark bob and overalls.

As Donovan looked over his shoulder, wanting to see what I was seeing, I let a soft
smile spread over my face. I turned my palm up, twisting my arm in my shirtsleeve
as the tape held it in place, inviting her closer, and said, “You must be Blue.”

Her oval face, tiny and so pale, it was hard to make out her features other than her
huge dark eyes, was a picture of shock and awe. She’d obviously never seen anyone
kiss before. If I’d known that would lure her to me, I would have dragged Donovan
in here and made out with him ages ago.

Rocket turned back to her, and he seemed just as surprised as I was to see her standing
there.

Strawberry walked up then, her mouth a thin line of disappointment. “Who is he?” she
asked, pointing at the scruffy guy who still had his hands wrapped around my ass.

With a grin, I said, “This is Donovan. He just happens to own this building you’re
standing in.”

“I thought you said you were going to go on a date with my brother.”

For her sake, I tamped down the horror I felt at the prospect of dating Taft, her
cop brother. He was okay as far as guys went, but I’d never felt the slightest inclination
to bang him, and that was my criteria for dating. If that primal attraction wasn’t
there from the get-go, it would likely never show up. Not in my world, anyway.

“No,
you
said I was going to go on a date with your brother.” I leaned over and kissed her
nose, an act she didn’t appreciate but one I enjoyed immensely. “As it turns out,
he’s all booked up.”

“Yes, with gross girls who wear too much makeup. You may not be very pretty, but at
least you don’t wear too much makeup.”

I coughed back a retort. “Thank you, I think. But Donovan’s a pretty good guy despite
his tendency to rob banks.”

“Really?” Her eyes came to life as she looked at him with a whole new perspective.
“He’s a bank robber like Jesse James? I just thought he was a scruffy biker guy.”

I laughed. Who knew the kid would be attracted to bank robbers? “He is a scruffy biker
guy.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging me with his knee.

“But there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

His mouth curved into something resembling doubt. “Are you really having a conversation
with someone else or are you just avoiding the issue at hand?”

“And what issue would that be?”

“That I may never see you again.” His expression remained impassive, but his emotions
grew somber.

“D,” Eric yelled from the stairs, “we have to hit it!”

He took in a deep draft of air and ran his fingers down my jaw and under my chin.
“If I don’t hear from you in two hours, I’m going to assume you’re still down here
and send help.”

My brows shot up. “I’ve seen the kind of help you have,” I said, referring to his
merry band of criminal associates. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“I’ll call the police,” he corrected. “So let me know when you get out of here.”

“Okay, promise.”

“D! If you aren’t coming, can I take Odin? That’s a sweet ride.”

“No!” he shouted.

“Fine. Shit. Don’t blow a gasket.”

I sat ogling Donovan, a new appreciation blossoming in my chest.

“What?” he asked, suddenly wary.

“Odin? You named your bike?”

He offered me a wink as he picked up the roll of duct tape. “I was inspired by a crazy
girl in a Jeep named Misery.”

“You named your car Misery?” Strawberry asked, her face twisted in distaste.

“Look,” Donovan said, his expression suddenly severe. “Edwards is not all there, if
you know what I mean.”

“Edwards?”

“The guy who wanted to take you out.”

“Really?” I asked, interested. “Is he cute?”

“The blond in the van who wanted to slice you into itty-bitty pieces.”

“Oh, that Edwards.”

He laughed. “He got kicked out of sniper training school in the Marines, and he hasn’t
been the same since.”

“The Marines may have been on to something.”

“Just watch your back, okay?”

“Consider it watched.”

He grinned and tore a strip of tape away from the roll, readying it for more duty.
I laughed. “I think I’m secure.”

“Nope, but you will be.” He ran the tape in circles around the back of the chair and
over my rib cage just under Danger and Will Robinson.

The act emphasized their fullness, a fact I was fairly certain he didn’t miss.

“That’s better,” he said, his gaze fixed on the girls.

I rolled my eyes. “Really? This is how you’re going to leave me?”

Before I could say anything else, he lunged forward and planted his mouth on mine
again. This kiss was anything but gentle. Need and longing radiated out of him as
his tongue slipped past my lips and between my teeth. Just like last time we’d kissed,
he tasted faintly of beer and cinnamon. I heard a soft moan, and I realized it was
coming from me.

His hands rose to my face, his fingers diving into my hair, pulling parts of it loose
from the hair tie. He cupped my chin with one hand and angled my head to give him
better access. Slanting against me, he deepened the kiss even more. I wanted to mold
myself to him again, to feel the hardness of his body against mine, but he’d taped
me to the back of the chair. Of course, that didn’t stop one hand from meandering
back to my ass. He pulled me closer—chair and all—then let his hand slide up to Will,
to measure her weight in his palm, to test her peak with his thumb.

“D, what the fuck?”

With great reluctance, he pulled away from me. His lids were still closed when he
yelled, “I’m coming, damn it!” Then he focused on me once again. “Not literally, unfortunately.”
He brushed a thumb over my mouth again. “You are so very special, Charley. I
will
be back.”

Without another word, he rose and walked out of the room, his big boots echoing against
the walls until I heard a door close above me. I sat stewing in a fog of desire and
warmth until I realized I still had an audience. And I couldn’t help but notice that
Blue’s jaw had fallen open. Poor kid.

After a long draw of air to get control of my hormones, I asked Rocket, “Are you going
to introduce us?”

“Miss Charlotte, I don’t think you should be kissing boys on the mouth like that.
Especially in front of my sister.”

“You’re right.” I hung my head in shame. “She’s very pretty, though.”

“I’ll fix your hair,” Strawberry said. She stood behind me and ripped the hair tie
out, then proceeded to rake her fingers over my scalp. For the love of sunshine, I’d
be lucky to leave this place with any hair left at all.

Blue was still as far away from me as she could get without being in the next room,
but I could hardly believe I was finally getting to see her. I’d been coming here
for years and had never even been offered so much as a glimpse. And she was absolutely
adorable. Her short hair curled under at her ears. Her bangs cut to meticulous precision.

After a moment, she took note of the fact that I was looking at her. She closed her
mouth and stepped back, her head down and her shoulders concave.

“It was so nice to meet you,” I said a split second before she melted into the far
wall.

Then I was lifted, chair and all, off the ground and into the most awkward hug I’d
ever encountered. Rocket was a hugger. It didn’t matter that my face was being ground
into his cool shoulder with the unnatural position.

“Where have you been?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but notice how air became precious
fast when your supply ran out. “You haven’t been here in forever.”

“Rocket,” Strawberry said, her voice nasally with a whine, “I can’t reach her hair,
and have you seen it? Maybe we should just shave her head and start over.”

My eyes flew open. She was probably one of those girls who shaved her dolls’ heads.
Those girls were creepy.

“No shaving heads,” I said into Rocket’s shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” she replied. “I’ll go find some scissors.”

Panic seized me but only for a moment. The departed were limited in what they could
do with objects on this plane. Surely she couldn’t really get a hold of a pair of
scissors.

“Or maybe I can find a knife.” She disappeared down the hall.

“Rocket,” I said, my voice muffled. “I can’t breathe.”

And just like every other time he’d picked me up for one of his bear hugs, he let
go. I crashed to the ground, the chair cracking and tipping awkwardly back, hovering
on the brink of oblivion, until the weight of my head won and I fell to the floor.
For the second time in as many days, my big head bounced off the cement when it hit,
and pain shot down my spine.

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sudden burst of discomfort. And there I sat,
molded to the chair with duct tape, my feet in the air and my head lying in some kind
of grayish remains.

This wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

The sound of motorcycles roaring to life flooded the room. After a few minutes, the
rumbling faded as the Bandits—literally—drove off into the sunset. So to speak. At
first I wondered how much time I should give them before I managed to escape and call
the police; then I wondered if I could escape. What if I couldn’t? Would he really
call them after a couple of hours? Would I die down here of hypothermia and dehydration?

I looked so unhealthy when dehydrated.

That was not the way to go in my book. Better to die with plenty of fluids in my body.
Like at a waterpark. Or during a wet T-shirt contest.

“You look funny,” Rocket said, and I figured we could catch up while I lay there stewing
in worry.

“Oh, yeah?” I volleyed. “Well, you look fantastic. Have you been working out?”

A huge boyish smile broke across his face. “You always say that. I have new names
for you.”

“Okay.” I looked around to admire his artwork and frowned. As far as I knew, every
room in this asylum had been covered over and over again with the names of the departed
Rocket scratched into its plaster walls, but the walls in this room, in this huge,
cavernous vastness, were completely untouched. I craned my neck to see what I could,
taking in the blank canvases around me.

Rocket started for the next room before he realized I wasn’t following him. “Miss
Charlotte, come on.”

“I can’t right now, hon.” My absent response didn’t deter him.

“But I have to show you. Something’s going on.” He took my arm and pulled me toward
the door, grinding my hair in the oily contents even more. The chair scraped along
the cement, but the closer we got to the door, the more worried I became. There was
no way I was fitting through that door at this angle. Unless I lost my head altogether,
which judging by Rocket’s strength, was a strong possibility.

“Rocket, wait,” I said, but he kept pulling and I kept sliding.

I struggled in the chair, fought against the restraints as the doorframe drew closer
and closer.

“Rocket, I’m not kidding.”

He stopped suddenly and looked back at me. “Do you think rain is scary?”

“Um—”

But he was gone. He’d already snapped back to attention and refocused on the task
at hand. Damn my hesitation.

“Rocket!” I yelled, trying to break his concentration. “I have a question for you.”
He paused, so I hurried and asked, “Why are there no names in this room? These walls
are completely empty.”

He cast me a withering look. “I can’t touch these. I’m saving them.”

“Really?” I asked, fighting duct tape tooth and nail. “For what? The apocalypse?”

“No, silly. For the end of the world.”

I stopped. “Wait, what? Rocket, what are you talking about?” Everyone had been hinting
at some kind of supernatural war, but nobody had mentioned the end of the world. I
was only teasing when I’d said that to Reyes.

“You know, when lots and lots of people die because of the decision of a few men.
Or even just one.”

“One. You mean a dictator like Hitler? There’ll be another Holocaust?”

“Not Hitler. A man pretending to be human.”

Hadn’t the sisters said something along those lines? A man pretending to be a human.
Okay, well that left out half the population, since it was not a woman. “But who?
When?” I’d always dreamed of going back in time and killing Hitler pre-crazy time.
Any one of a million people would have done the same if only we had a crystal ball.
I may not have had a crystal ball, but I had Rocket. And his head was ball-like. And
shiny. And I could see through it. He’d work. “Rocket, what man? What will he do?”

“I don’t know yet. He may or may not do it. It’s all still floating.”

I shifted for a better position, grunting a little in the process. “Floating?”

“Yes, like when people make decisions and maybe the person who was not going to die
yet does, or the person who was supposed to die doesn’t. They are floating.”

“So, these decisions aren’t carved in stone?”

“No, they’re carved in my walls.”

“But who, Rocket? Who’s supposed to do all of this?” I swore, if he said Reyes, I
was going to scream.