Songbird (A Sinclair Story #1) (2 page)

She
was beyond exhausted, but a shower was priority one right now. The water took a
few minutes to heat. While she waited, she shifted through her pack to find
clean underwear and clothes. She would have to find a Laundromat tomorrow. She
planned on it being a quick rinse, but the moment the water hit her cold
muscles she dropped her head and moaned out her pleasure. She loved showers,
the warmth and cleansing nature of water as it poured over her. As if it washed
away the sins and shit that covered her each day.

Finally
able to slide between the crisp white sheets, grateful for once that they felt
freshly laundered, Melodee closed her eyes. She was trained to fall asleep
within thirty seconds and wake fully alert at any moment. But tonight she was
too tired to need her training.

The next few days Melodee
spent exploring the city of Syracuse. The college town was large enough to
blend into, and as good a city as any to spend the winter months. It was
mid-December and the shops were gearing up for the holidays. Tinsel, lights and
Christmas trees adorned the streets. Melodee loved this season and she had no
idea why. It had not been something her family celebrated, but there was so
much joy and hope in the air. With that in mind, she had made her decision.

Sitting
in a diner across from a tiny white-haired lady, Melodee leaned back in her
chair.

“How
much is the apartment for two months?” She was looking at a short term rental
near the college.

“Seven
hundred per month. And you just have to give me thirty days’ notice before you
leave.”
 

Melodee
had found the rental in the local paper. The older lady was her perfect
landlord, one who was very relaxed and cared little about previous rental
history and credit checks.

“I
will give you plenty of notice, Mrs. Anderson,” she said politely. “Is it ready
for me today?”

“Oh
yes, dear, I’ll show you where everything is.”

It was on the ground floor –
Melodee would never be caught on a level without an easy escape route. She had
been taught that before she’d learned her ABC’s. There wasn’t much to the two
room, furnished place: a kitchenette that was open to the tiny living and
dining room, and then the bedroom. But for Melodee it was more than enough.

“Let
me know if you need anything,” Mrs. Anderson said, as she left Melodee with the
security and door key.

Melodee
was just about to close the front door when four men about her age entered the
outer security area and stepped into the foyer. They brought with them swirls
of cold air and traffic noise.

A
dark-haired man, taller than the others, chattered excitedly as he unwound his
scarf and shook flakes of snow from his hair. “Nate was on fire last night. The
scouts were there and deals are already being thrown around.”

Another,
with light streaks of caramel through his brown hair, chimed in. “Damn, I’d
kill to be Sinclair for just one night of my life. Did you see that blonde?”

His
voice trailed off as they noticed Melodee in the open doorway. She internally
cursed herself for not shutting her door quickly enough.

“Hey,
so you decided to stay?”

The
friendly redhead from the bus stop stepped forward from the others. Melodee had
noticed him straight away but hoped he’d not remember her.

“Oh,
yeah, thanks for your advice. I’ve decided to stay for a while.”

She
could pretend with the best of them, and it was better to make friends than
enemies. For some reason people remembered the bitch in apartment one more than
the nice girl who had chatted with them.

The
loud, dark-haired man spoke up: “You must be the one from the bus stop. Craig
described you perfectly. We didn’t catch you at the frat party.”

Craig,
the redhead, had clearly spoken about her. She hated that. It was so easy for
information to get around, and that was the type of thing which her parents had
relied on to do their job. But she valued her privacy, she didn’t want anyone
thinking they could just butt in and find out where she was. That was why she
lived this way, running and fighting.

“Oh
yeah, I’m not much for parties. Prefer to do my own thing,” she said, her hands
shifting back the silky strands of black hair that had fallen forward. “Anyways,
nice to meet you all, I’m just heading in to unpack.”

She
started to close the door.

Craig’s
words halted her again. “Wait, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m
Melodee.” No point hiding that much, she never changed her name. She had to
have something that was always hers; otherwise she worried she would disappear
and cease to exist. “I’ll see you around.” She shut the door before they could
hold her up again.

“Holy
shit, Craig. You totally understated how damned hot she is.” Melodee could hear
them through the door. “I would totally…”

The
conversation drifted off as the men moved away. She dropped her head against
the wooden frame, her fingers scraping across the paint as they fell to her
side. Did they live in the same building as her? She should have considered
that this close to the college any cheap apartment would probably have
students. Here’s hoping a few more drunken frat parties and they’d lose the
brain cells that knew about her. Straightening, she turned and grabbed her coat
and scarf, throwing a couple of hundreds into her back pocket. Time to get some
food. There was supposed to be a big storm coming tonight and she didn’t want
to get caught out without the essentials.

The Alamo was pretty packed,
the grocery store struggling to keep up with the rush of people trying to stock
up on water and canned foods. Melodee was half listening to the conversations
around her as she picked up some supplies. She liked to stay hyper-aware; it
didn’t pay to get caught unawares. The chatter was more about this Nathan
Sinclair. He was clearly the darling of the Syracuse college basketball team.
Besides fighting, Melodee had little interest in sports. She’d never even been
to a game.

Taking
the full trolley to the counter, Melodee could see the snow was starting to
really pile up outside the glass-fronted window. It was heavy, visibility was
poor, and she was going to have to move her butt to get home before it was
pitch black outside.

“Fifty-eight
dollars and thirty-five cents.” The woman behind the counter barely glanced up.
“Paper okay?”

Melodee
nodded, before reaching out and taking the two large brown bags into her hands.
The breeze hit her first as she stepped onto the icy sidewalk, catching herself
before her feet slid. There was no doubt she would be relying on her
exceptional balance to get home safely.

“Hey,
Melodee, do you need a ride back to the apartment?”

The
deep voice was almost lost in the storm. A face full of snow hit her as she
swung around to find a large SUV idling beside her. Through the open window she
could see that it was one of the men from earlier today. The dark-haired one
who had spoken the most. He had a cute face, brown eyes and cocky grin.

She
shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Gave him a wave. “It’s not that far.”

He
didn’t pull away. “The storm is supposed to get worse. I’m heading in the same
direction as you. It’s not safe to be out here.”

She
gritted her teeth. Dammit, she recognized the stubborn tone; he wasn’t leaving
without her. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she continued to move along
the path. His car kept pace with her. She realized that they were starting to
create a scene and that was the last thing she needed. Finally she gave up and,
stomping over, she opened the passenger door.

“You
can survive a five minute drive with a punk-ass frat boy,” she muttered to
herself.

Settling
into the plush leather seats she dropped the bags down at her feet. She didn’t
wear her seat belt, even though she would normally, in case she needed a quick
getaway.

“I’m
Doug.” The cocky smile he flipped in her direction had her gritting her teeth
even harder. If she kept this up she was going to crack them.

“Hold
on tight,” he said as he peeled off the corner, far too fast for the
conditions. “I just have a quick stop before heading back home.”

“You
should have mentioned that before you picked me up.” Her voice was biting and
cold, but he was too self-assured to even notice. “I don’t have time for your
errand.”

“Really
quick. Just have to drop off some stuff to a friend.”

Great,
moron number one was either a drug dealer or an idiot. No one normal would be
doing errands in the mother of all snowstorms. But unless she was prepared to
make a huge deal out of it she was stuck in the car for the foreseeable future.
Ignoring his attempts at conversation, she studied the scenery outside the
window, memorizing the route he was taking, more from habit than any real need.
They were winding quickly through the downtown, heading at a rapid rate toward
the outer areas. Lucky there was almost no other cars on the road, because Doug
was a reckless driver.

“Where
does this friend live?” Melodee finally asked.

Doug
flashed her a wide grin. He had overly bleached teeth that shone in her
direction. “His family practically owns this town, and they have this huge
property just up ahead. He’s been relegated to check it over in the storm. I’ve
got to drop some food off for him.”

With
a sigh Melodee sank further into the heated seats, letting the warmth surround
her. She knew it was a mistake to get in the car.

“You
have to learn to relax.” Doug was digging his own grave. Her fingers itched to
punch him.

“You
have to slow down,” she commanded calmly, noticing the needle was edging toward
sixty-five miles. In this weather that was suicide.

He
laughed. “Don’t worry yourself. I’m an expert driver, been on these roads for
years and never had an accident.”

As
the words left his mouth, headlights appeared in the window. A car was heading
in their direction, and as Melodee leaned forward to see better through the
mists and swirls of snow, her blood froze. In one smooth movement she reached
out and clicked her seatbelt in. She was trained to notice any and all minute
details, and those lights were definitely in the wrong position for that type
of sedan. The car was coming at them on its roof, and at this speed there was
no way they could avoid it.

“Listen
to me,” she spoke with a low intensity. “That car is going to hit us.”

“What?”
Doug’s forehead crinkled.

Damn,
stupidity should be a punishable crime.

“Turn
now!” Melodee screamed, reaching out to wrench the wheel.

The
crunch of tires skidding on snow were the first sounds, followed by a jerking
smash as the cars collided on their front bumper edges. Melodee’s head slammed
into the window as they went into a death spin of several three hundred and sixty
degree turns. They had avoided the worst of it, but both cars were heading
toward the large embankment. They hit the snow and started to roll over and
over.

Melodee
braced against the door and seat to minimize her injuries. Doug on the other
hand, who had no seat belt on, was being flung all around the car. Luckily, he
stayed on his side and wasn’t smashing into her.

It
felt like forever, but eventually the cars came to a thudding halt at the
bottom of whatever embankment they’d gone over. It took a few minutes for the
ringing to cease in Melodee’s head; her breath came out in visible gasps as the
cold infiltrated the previously heated interior. She was hanging upside down,
her seatbelt holding her in position. A body was sprawled under her head.
Shit
. She had to help Doug.

She
reached out a hand and felt for the pulse in the spread-eagled legs beneath
her. Nothing. From her angle, Melodee could see blood spattered around the
cabin, but not ridiculous amounts. She wiggled around and managed to turn in her
seat belt, and then it was very apparent that Doug had broken his neck. Melodee
could see the unnatural tilt of his head as he lay on the roof of his car.

She
fumbled with her seatbelt, the force of her weight making it hard to unclick
the buckle. Finally, after leveraging herself up, she managed to get free. She
dropped into the cabin next to Doug. She reached out to him again and closed
his eyes. She couldn’t stand the empty stare of the dead. Poor, stupid,
overconfident Doug did not deserve to die this night. But death was like that:
no judgments. It didn’t always come to the deserving, sometimes it just came on
swift wings to any that lay in its path.

Knowing
there was nothing she could do for Doug, Melodee tried to find a way out of the
rapidly cooling tomb. The snowstorm seemed to be worsening outside, although
where they’d landed was a little protected from the worst, but still, if she
didn’t get moving she could freeze to death in no time. The windows were stuck,
she couldn’t get them open. Finally, she found a lever and the rear-door of the
SUV inched open a small gap. The damage back there looked like it was pretty
bad, at least three of the sides were dented shut. Using her shoulder, Melodee
managed to push open a space large enough for her to exit. Groceries littered
the inside of the SUV – apparently Doug hadn’t been lying about taking things
to his friend. She gathered together all of the bits and pieces, and finding an
old gym bag amongst the junk she used it to hold as much of the food as she
could fit. These goods might spell the difference between survival and death if
she didn’t find her way to warmth soon.