Walking After Midnight (20 page)

Only she didn’t actually vanish, of course, because she’d never really been there in the first place.

Shaken, Steve glanced at the dog. She had lost interest in whatever had first attracted her attention and was now placidly scratching an ear.

Damned mutt.

„Is it time to go?“ Rosencrans was awake again. He looked down into sleepy hazel-brown eyes that blinked dazedly up into his, noted the straight nose, the creamy texture of her skin, and the wide, well-remembered softness of her lips. Now that he was getting his vision back he could see that she was a damned attractive woman – no, a damned
pretty
woman – even dazed, dirty, and disheveled. She was leaning heavily against him, her hands linked behind his neck, letting him support her weight. He felt the shapely warmth of her in his arms, against his body, and found his explanation for the sudden unnerving visions of Deedee.

They must have been brought on by guilt. Because Rosencrans was the first woman he had wanted, stone-cold sober, since Deedee’s death.

19

„We need to get out of here.“ Frankenstein’s words were so urgent that they pierced the fog of grogginess that surrounded Summer.

„Why?“ Were the bad guys on their trail? Coming immediately fully awake, she struggled against the quilt that suddenly felt to her like a straitjacket, desperate to be free.

„Because we need to.“ Reaching behind his neck, he unclasped her hands and gave them back to her. Humiliated to discover that she had been clinging to him –
clinging
to him, of all things – Summer withdrew her hands and her body from all contact with his and busied herself with extracting herself from the quilt.

He seemed as anxious to be free as she.

„Is someone coming?“ Fear infused her voice and was evident in the quick looks she shot at the mouth of their den. „Did you hear something? See something?“

„No.“ Frankenstein folded the quilt. He opened the gym bag and pulled some things out before stuffing the quilt in.

„Then what’s going on?“ Something in his manner was downright scary. He was cold, impersonal, abrupt, unfriendly. That wasn’t so surprising, but there was something else as well. He almost seemed – afraid. What had happened while she had been asleep, for goodness’ sake?

„Nothing’s going on. We need to get a move on, is all. Here, put these on. You can’t go around out here in that janitor outfit. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.“

Frankenstein stood and thrust a handful of garments at her. His eyes as they met hers were hostile. Summer was bewildered. What was wrong? What had she done?

Taking the things from him, Summer saw that he had passed her the basketball shorts and muscle shirt.

„I can’t wear this,“ she said, holding up the muscle shirt. Even to a cursory glance, which was all she had given it, it was obvious that the shirt was not made for a woman. Its deep, scooped neckline, narrow straps, and enormous armholes would leave her effectively shirtless from the waist up.

„What do you mean, you can’t wear it? If the color or something doesn’t suit you, that’s just too bad.“

Summer got the impression that he was deliberately being as nasty as he could be.

„It’s not the color, stupid. It’s the way it’s made. See?“ She held the shirt up to herself. The hem reached well past her thighs, the bottom two thirds had ample material – but the top, where it counted, was hardly there.

Frankenstein’s frown told her that he saw what she meant.

„Here,“ he said, pulling off his own shirt and handing it over. „Trade me.“

Summer accepted his T-shirt, passed him the muscle shirt, and tried not to look with too much interest at broad shoulders, a well-muscled, hairy chest, and a compact waist with just the faintest suggestion of love handles puddling over the sides of the too snug cutoffs.

His left shoulder and side might be be abloom with purple-to-yellow bruises, but the underlying body was powerfully built.

Summer had always been attracted to big, muscular men.

He pulled the shirt over his head and jerked it into place. The word
Nike
leaped into prominence across his abdomen. His shoulders and upper chest remained essentially bare. His eyes met hers.

Lest he somehow manage to read her thoughts in her eyes, Summer averted her gaze.

„Hurry up, will you?“ he said, picking his cap up from the ground and walking outside, taking the gym bag with him. Muffy padded after him.

Left alone, Summer shed her Daisy Fresh uniform and scrambled into the basketball shorts and T-shirt. The shorts were black, made of flimsy nylon, but fortunately were cut to be baggy and fit her reasonably well, stopping just a few inches shy of her knees. With a quick glance at the entrance to their hideaway, Summer slipped out of her bra and made a hurried, but secure, knot in the strap. Putting it back on, she was pleased to rediscover how it felt to have secure support on both sides.

„You done yet?“ Frankenstein, speaking from just outside the entrance, sounded impatient. Summer dragged the T-shirt over her head. It was a trifle snug over her bosom and hips, but by yanking at the hem she was able to stretch the material enough so that she thought it looked reasonably decent.

Now if she could only shower, scrub her teeth, and brush her hair…

„Almost,“ she called, combing a hand through her tangled hair, which straggled around her face and down her back. It was as fine and straight as corn silk, and at the moment felt about as limp. Summer wished vainly for fifteen minutes alone with a showerhead, shampoo, a hair dryer, a fat round brush, and some mousse. Her hair might be plain, ordinary brown, but it could look pretty good when she tried.

Would he have kissed her with more enthusiasm if he had ever once seen her with makeup and her hair done?

Summer made the best of things by weaving a single braid that would hang down her back. The only problem was how to secure the end. Since her blouse was ruined anyway, she decided to tear a strip from that and tie it around the braid. Which was harder than she had thought; she had to gnaw through the material with her teeth first.

Frankenstein came in while she was chewing on her blouse.

„You can’t be that hungry yet,“ he said.

Summer made a face at him, ripped the blouse, and secured her hair.

„How do I look?“ she asked, gesturing at her outfit.

„Like you’ve been camping about a week too long,“ he said, and thrust the pair of high-topped black sneakers at her.

Summer eyed them, but shook her head. „I can’t wear those. They’re miles too big.“

„Beats going barefoot.“

„You wear them, and I’ll wear the flip-flops.“

„Look, Rosencrans, we’re going to be hiking for miles. Miles, do you understand? You can’t hike in flip-flops. You could turn an ankle, and if you do I’ll be damned if I carry you. Or you could step on a broken beer bottle, or a snake. You could…“

The snake did it. „Give them to me.“

He did. Summer saw that the athletic socks were inside. With a grimace she sat and pulled them on. As she did, she saw that he was donning the other pair. White low-tops, sockless.

„How come you get the low-tops, and I get the high-tops?“

„Because the shoes fit me. They don’t fit you. I gave you the high-tops so you could tie ‘em tight around your ankles so they wouldn’t fall off.“

Good point. Good idea. Summer did as he suggested. By the time she finished, he had already gathered up her discarded clothes, stuffed them into the gym bag, picked up the tire iron, and headed outside again.

He was gazing into the distance, his mouth unsmiling, his eyes shaded by the brim of the baseball cap, when she joined him. He was clearly out of sorts about something. For her even to be able to tell that much about his expression, she realized, the swelling in his face had to be going down. She wondered again what he would look like when he was back to normal. Would he be handsome? Cut and bruised and blood-streaked as his face still was, it was impossible to say.

She wished he would kiss her again. With enthusiasm, this time, just to see what kissing Frankenstein would be like.

„What’re you looking at?“ His gaze swung around, catching her eyes on him, and his response was pugnacious. Summer turned pink, embarrassed by her own wayward thoughts. He scowled.

„You need to wash your face,“ she managed to say, and was proud of herself for the coolness and quick thinking of her response.

„So do you,“ he answered, and swung off uphill without another word.

Summer had had about enough of his surliness. She wasn’t catering to it any longer. Head high, she turned and marched in the opposite direction.

Muffy, torn, sat on her furry bottom, looked from one separating human to the other, and whined piteously. Summer ignored her, too.

When she emerged from the shelter of a nearby bush, business completed, she was secredy relieved to find Frankenstein waiting beside Muffy, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against a tree, cap brim pulled low over his eyes. She hadn’t thought he would just walk off and leave her, but she hadn’t been entirely sure. Now she was.

Hostility radiated from him as she approached. Twelve hours earlier, the mere sight of the monster wearing such a glower would have terrified her. Now, safe in her new certainty that he wouldn’t leave her, she felt at ease enough to glower back.

„Ready now?“ he asked with deep sarcasm.

„Yes, sir,“ she answered with a mock salute, and had the reward of seeing his scowl deepen.

„Here. We can eat as we walk.“

He tossed a pack of crackers at her, swung around, and headed off again. Or maybe
stalked
was a better word.

20

The sign hammered into a tree where the trail forked said
HAW KNOB, ELEV.
5,472
FEET.
The arrow pointed straight ahead.

When Frankenstein headed east instead, Summer heaved a sigh of relief. Serious mountain climbing at this point would, she feared, just about do her in.

„Woof.“ Chocolate doggy eyes looked up at Summer pleadingly. Muffy squirmed in her arms. Not bothering to set her down – Muffy had already firmly established that she would not walk – Summer shifted her weight to the other arm, and shot a dagger look at the broad masculine back some dozen feet ahead.

The man was tireless. They’d been walking without a break for what seemed like days. It was twilight now, and she for one was exhausted. Her feet hurt: the too big shoes rubbed blisters on her heels even through the thick socks. Her arms hurt: Muffy, for all her smallness, weighed a ton. Frankenstein’s callous suggestion was that if Summer grew tired of carrying her, she should just pitch her over a cliff;
he
didn’t offer to carry her.

And Summer refused to ask.

Her fondest wish was that Muffy would pee on his foot again.

But the dog couldn’t even do that if they didn’t stop.

An insect bite on the side of Summer’s neck itched, and she scratched it dispiritedly. It was one of about two dozen she had collected. As the sun set, the mosquitoes had come out to dine.

Never in her life had she thought to find herself envying a mosquito, but at least they had something to dine
on.

Summer was so hungry that she ached with it. Her stomach was so empty that it felt like it was collapsing. She pictured it as a deflating balloon.

There were three packs of crackers left. Frankenstein had already announced that they would have to be saved for the morrow. Summer’s head understood; her stomach emphatically did not.

„Woof,“ Muffy pleaded.

„Hush,“ Summer said, nuzzling her suddenly tortured nose against Muffy’s fur. She knew what had prompted that forlorn bark. She smelled it too: food.

Up ahead, to their left, was a lodge. Frankenstein was carefully skirting it, anxious to avoid as many people as he could. He was right, of course. The less attention they attracted, particularly given his battered state, the better, but still the aroma pulled at her like a magnet: woodsmoke and grilling steaks. Yum.

Her mouth watered. Her stomach growled. Muffy whined. Sympathetically, Summer scratched behind her ear.

Muffy shook her hand off. What she wanted was not love, but
food.

Up ahead, Frankenstein forged on through the trees, looking to neither the left nor the right. Of course, he was beyond feeling anything as human as hunger.

He’d been cranky all afternoon. If Summer had had any better choices, she would have left him high and dry hours ago.

Only she didn’t have any better choices.

She and Muffy were stuck with Frankenstein.

A couple strolled hand in hand out of the darkness to her right. They saw Summer moving through the trees nearby and gave a friendly wave. Summer waved back and watched them as they continued toward the lodge. She was traveling perpendicular to the path on which they trod; up ahead, Frankenstein had already crossed it. A quick glance showed her that he had been all but swallowed up by the darkness ahead. If she wasn’t careful, she would lose him in the dark.