Stealing Their Harley, page 2
“Harley!”
Hearing my name being yelled so unexpectedly pulls me from my early morning brain fog and I search the courtyard for the source. Rico waves his hand above his head to get my attention and breaks out in a light jog toward me. I patiently wait for him to catch up before turning back toward my first class.
“Why do you always have to get here so early?” Rico complains, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “If you’d wait half an hour, I’d walk to campus with you. Or better yet, we could take my car. It has a heater, you know.”
He takes several deep breaths, watching them as they come out in puffs of white smoke. This October in Willow Creek is setting the tone for an icy and chilly winter.
I hold up a hot paper coffee cup to display for him. “I need fuel before I can handle people in the morning. You know this.”
Rico rolls his eyes heavily. “You have a serious addiction to those things.” He eyes my precious mocha and wrinkles his nose. “You know there’s almost no coffee in that, right? It’s mostly chocolate milk and chemicals.”
I gasp dramatically and hug the cup to my chest like it’s my most precious possession. “How dare you. Take that back, you monster.”
Rico throws his head back, his laughter echoing through the quiet courtyard. “You really should major in theatre.”
“I could never be an actress,” I counter, taking a sip of the delicious mixture, savoring the warmth as it spreads through my body. “I can’t take anything like that seriously. I giggled through the fourth-grade play and my only job was to stand still like a tree. Mr. Hinkle never forgave me for ruining his precious masterpiece.”
“Didn’t he retire at the end of that year?” Rico asks as we reach the door to our building. He holds it open for me as he does every morning, and I smile my thanks.
“It was a coincidence,” I assure him. “I didn’t drive the man to retire with my terrible acting.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Rico says with a snicker, dodging the elbow I attempt to jab into his side.
We part ways soon after entering the building, Rico heading to his first class as I trudge onto mine. Our only shared class is after this one, but we have the same lunch break free after our third class of the day is over, and we always eat together. Our days are relatively monotonous, but I don’t mind it. I know what to expect each day and while I love the thought of a good adventure, consistency isn’t always a bad thing.
Halfway through my first class, my day takes an unexpected turn. As I sit there, listening to the professor drone on about passive versus active voice, I begin to feel strange. The urge to move nearly overwhelms me and I find that I can’t sit still. Bouncing my leg up and down, trying to distract myself, a new feeling hits me. My skin begins to tingle and then itch all over. At the same time, my body feels like it’s burning up from the inside leaving a small layer of sweat all over my skin. Sweat that chills against my skin in the cool temperature of the classroom. Over and over again, the cold racks my body, followed by flashes of overwhelming heat.
By the time class is almost over, all I want to do is rush home in case whatever illness I have gets worse. I’ve always had a hang up about throwing up in public and will do anything to avoid it. It’s why I am not much of a drinker. The only problem is that there’s a big test in Calculus and I can’t miss it. Rico’s been stressing all week over it and I promised him I’d be there to help him if he needed it. The teacher would never know I discreetly gave him the answers. We have our ways of working together on tests when we need to.
Refusing to let my best friend down, I suck it up and manage to get through the remainder of the first class. I get up from my seat, gather my books, and slowly make my way to Calculus. The longer I walk, the dizzier I become and the more my body weakens. My heart races as if I ran a marathon even though my next class is only at the other end of the hall from my first. I manage to drop myself into my seat as the final bell sounds.
Rico watches me with a frown. He leans toward me, no doubt to ask what’s wrong, but the professor interrupts him. She goes over the test, reminds us to keep our eyes on our own paper and our mouths shut, then passes the tests out. As soon as the paper hits my desk, I race through it. I could do the problems with my eyes closed, and at the moment, I sort of need to.
The room spins and my hands shake the longer I stay in my seat. I don’t know what type of virus I caught, but it’s hitting hard and fast. Rico continues to shoot worried glances my way, but my only focus is finishing the test and getting out of here.
Waiting on Rico to finish his test is excruciating. He’s distracted by my strange behavior and it takes him twice the amount of time to catch up. He knows to wait ten minutes after I turn in my test before turning in his so we don’t look suspicious. I’d feel bad for letting Rico cheat if I didn’t think he knew the material. He gets high marks on every assignment and he can zip through a practice quiz easily at home. He knows the answers, but the word test on the top of the page does something to his brain. He freezes up and can’t remember a single answer. It’s his biggest issue with school, so I don’t mind helping him when I can.
Today is a challenge, though. The second he writes the last answer down, I jump from my seat and scoop up my test. Rico startles with surprise but remains silent. I hold onto my desk for several long seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Finally, I give up, realizing it won’t stop. I make my way to the professor slowly, drop my test on her desk, then silently shuffle out the door. As an afterthought, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Rico so he won’t worry about me.
*Feel like hell. I think I caught a bug. I’m headed home to rest. I’ll see you after school. You did great on the test, stop worrying about it and stop worrying about me.*
After stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I turn all of my focus and energy on walking home. With every step, I curse myself for deciding to walk to school every day. I could hitch a ride with Rico each morning like he said, but I like to swing by my favorite coffee stand to grab a mocha. I may be the one who has a bad habit of sleeping through her alarm, but Rico runs late every day no matter what time he wakes up. At least I sacrifice my shower time in order to make it to class on time, coffee in hand. It would be a different story if I rode with him. Though today, I am silently cursing my coffee habit and desperately wishing I had a ride.
I veer off the main road and follow a small trail through the wooded area behind the school. It’s the quickest way to get home and I won’t embarrass myself if I do throw up. My worries appear to be for nothing when halfway through the woods, the dizziness starts to fade. The chills and hot flashes ease slightly, though not completely. I contemplate turning around and heading back to class. It was probably just a fluke and I’d rather not miss class if I don’t have to.
I pause under a large outcropping of elm trees, letting their leafy canopy shade me from the blinding sunlight. I don’t have a pair of sunglasses with me and the glare of the sun makes it hard to see. I glance behind me, chewing on my bottom lip in contemplation. If I go back to school and I start to feel like hell again, I can always come home. Then again, I’d rather not have to walk home like this again if my symptoms do worsen.
“Harley?”
The unfamiliar voice hits me like a mac truck. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, sparking a strange but pleasant hum which flows through me, head to toe. I spin around and nearly fall over at the sight in front of me.
My gaze locks with dark honey eyes that appear to be glowing as they watch me curiously. My focus travels away from the stranger’s hypnotizing eyes and I take in the rest of him. His light brown hair is cut short on the sides and combed neatly on top. His strong jaw is clear of any stubble, giving him a boyish look. This man is anything but a boy, though. He stands a good foot taller than me and his navy-blue long sleeve shirt does nothing to hide the defined muscles underneath. He is absolute perfection.
He dips his head and studies me intently. The intensity in them causes the air in my lungs to leave in a rush. “Harley, I need you to come with me.”
Mr. Perfect’s words snap me out of my daze and I shake my head, allowing logic to filter back in. “Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?” My back is still against the tree so I pivot my stance by shifting my hips. I slowly take a few steps backward, putting more distance between me and the stranger.
He takes a hurried look around us, as if waiting for someone to pop out from behind a tree and yell surprise. “We really don’t have time for this.” He takes a step toward me and I step backward, maintaining the open space between us. “Harley, I’ll explain on the way. Please, just come with me.”
Weirdly, every bone in my body screams at me to follow him, to stay by his side and never leave. I know better, though. I’ve watched enough news stories and horror shows about missing people to know now is the time for me to run.
Without a word, I turn tail and sprint back the way I came, toward the college. I’m a fast runner. I can beat most people I know in a race. So, it shocks me a little when Mr. Perfect catches up to me easily, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around my mouth to stop the scream before it even forms on my tongue.
I know I should be screaming and yelling for help. I should be kicking and fighting him until I am exhausted or he beats me senseless. But the moment his hand makes contact with my overheated skin, all sensation, including the remaining feverish chills, disappear and I feel like I’m floating in a sea of tranquil water. It’s probably some sort of drug on his hand that he used when covering my mouth, but whatever it is, I don’t want to fight him. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. My body melts into his embrace, and I allow him to pick me up and cradle me in his arms.
“I promise, I’ll explain everything when we get where we need to go, sugar,” he murmurs close to my ear. A shiver races through me at the same time he inhales sharply, as if he felt it too.
Any concern I had for my safety disappears as he carries me through the woods. He quickly leaves the well-worn path, venturing deeper into the unexplored parts of the forest. The canopy above us thickens and filters out the afternoon sunlight, dimming the light around us, giving the illusion of a false dusk. All I can manage to do as he moves farther and farther from the path is to lay my head on his shoulder and let out a contented sigh.
At least if he’s taking me somewhere to kill me, I won’t freak out about it. My eyes droop with every step he takes, his movements lulling me to sleep. The last thought I have before my eyes refuse to open again is wondering if there’s such a thing as a considerate serial killer?
Chapter 3
The sound of several male voices shouting all at once rouse me from a deep sleep. My body feels heavy and my limbs refuse to move.
“Damn it, Alekai. What happened to our strict ‘no kidnapping’ policy? We are trying to help her, not knock her out and take her against her will.” Whoever is speaking isn’t happy with this Alekai person.
“She wouldn’t come with me and tried to run. I panicked. There were people coming our way.” The new voice is familiar and it brings me further to the surface of wakefulness. “What else was I supposed to do, Kacen? You sent me on an impossible mission. Go out unprepared and convince a young woman to follow me deep into the forest without anyone knowing where she’s going or who she’s with. What’s next? Should I go to grandma’s house and eat her too?”
“Okay, guys. Let’s just calm down. She’s here now, that’s all that matters,” a third male speaks softly. His soft tone caresses my senses, nearly lulling me back to sleep while listening to him. “I am curious, though. Why did you knock her out, Alekai?”
“Really, Dawson? That’s what you focus on?” The first man, Kacen, sounds like he’s amused by what this Dawson guy said.
“I didn’t knock her out, smart ass,” Alekai growls, and I can hear him pace back and forth. “Something happened when I picked her up. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but she was burning up and shivering. When I stopped her from running, she didn’t freak out or scream. She just kind of relaxed into me and fell asleep. On our way here, she stopped shivering and her fever went away.”
He’s clearly frustrated with his companions and I almost want to laugh. Now that I’m more awake, I remember everything that happened. I want to soak in as much information from the mystery men as possible before I make a break for it. My heart picks up speed when I realize where my thoughts are going and I internally shake myself for my stupidity. I don’t need to understand more about these guys, I need to get the hell away from them.
The room is eerily silent after Alekai’s confession. I wait several long moments for someone to make a sound, but no one does. Satisfied I’ve been left alone, I crack my eyes open only to squeal in surprise. Three gorgeous men stand in the middle of a vast living area, all watching me expectantly, as if they somehow knew I had been awake and eavesdropping.
Rico always tells me I’m a social butterfly. I like to talk to people and make new friends. My lack of filter makes the latter difficult sometimes, but that’s beside the point. I’m a chatty person and I don’t always know when to shut up. Maybe my social tendencies are why I find myself hesitating to run from them. What in the name of Zeus is wrong with me? I should not have to resist the urge to hang around and get to know three incredibly sexy men who “didn’t kidnap” me.
Even as I scold myself, I can’t help taking in the two men I haven’t seen yet. The first stands about as tall as my kidnapper, Alekai. His dark brown curly hair is thick and falls into his eyes as he watches me. I clench my hands to resist the urge to move it out of the way so I can get a better look at his soft baby blue eyes. His neatly trimmed beard somehow adds to his mysterious features. He’s quiet and contemplative as he watches me.
His friend is the tallest of the three. Bright emerald eyes bore into me and make me squirm. Silvery hair is slicked back on top with the sides buzzed short. His beard is similar to the dark-haired man, but a little fuller and neater. There’s something hard about this guy, like he’s seen a lot of bad things and he expects the worst.
As I’m openly checking out his friends, the man who did the actual kidnapping, Alekai, takes a breath and starts to say something. I take them all by surprise when I spring to my feet and dart around them. I don’t have a clue where I’m going and my head spins at my body’s sudden movement. My only hope is to find an exit before they catch me.
“Wait!” they call out to me in unison. The combination of their voices has a strange effect on me. My brain says keep moving while my body tries to obey their command. I end up stumbling into a thin, long table that runs the length of the hallway. The decor on the table, including what I fear may be a large crystal vase, crash to the ground.
“Dammit, my mom’s gonna kill me!” I think Dawson is the one causing such a fuss. “That was an antique.”
“Shut it, Dawson,” Kacen orders. He sounds too close to me and I panic, my pace quickening.
When I fly around the corner, all hope of escape diminishes. Alekai must have taken a different path to cut me off. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my body flush with his. When our bodies meet, a cross between a groan and a whimper leaves my lips and he stiffens, his hold on me tightening along with muscles low in my belly. He lifts me higher, my toes barely touching the floor because of our height difference.
“Harley, I need you to listen to us for a minute.” The way my name sounds coming from his lips nearly has my body growing weak. Thankfully, he has a firm grip on me or I’d likely end up falling onto the floor. Then his beautiful honey eyes meet mine and every thought of running flies from my mind. My hands tighten into fists around the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to take the chance of him releasing me. I press my body further into his and draw in a shaky breath. My eyes dart to his lips then back to his eyes, silently begging him to kiss me.
The vibration from his chest as he growls jars me from my trance-like state. I’m basically crawling all over my captor like I’m eating my last meal on death row and he’s the juicy steak. I’m more disgusted with myself than angry at him, but I won’t allow him to know it. Instead, I arch away from him and wiggle in his arms, hoping he loosens his grip on me. “Let me down.”
Alekai ignores my demand and walks us back toward the living area I’d just managed to escape from. My temper flares. “I said put me down, asshole! What’s the matter with you?”
“I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop wiggling against me like that.” Alekai grimaces, but doesn’t appear fazed by my insults or demands. “It’s not doing either of us any good right now.”
My body stills when I catch on to the cryptic meaning behind his words. The devil on my shoulder comes up with an idea to get him to let me go and, without thinking through it, I go with the devil's suggestion. I grab Alekai’s nipple and twist hard.
“Ow!” he yelps and stumbles, but he doesn’t let me go. “What the hell was that for?”
“Seriously?” I blink at him, incredulous. “You kidnapped me and you want to know why I’m trying to get away? What the hell do you freaks want with me, anyway?”
An answer comes from behind me as Alekai enters the living area. “You have a temper, don’t you? And for the record, we aren’t freaks. Well, at least I’m not a freak. The same cannot be said about these other two.”
I whirl around the best I can in Alekai’s grip and find the source of the self-proclaimed non-freak. Familiar green eyes narrow at me and I’m momentarily struck dumb. Where have I seen those eyes? Their coloring is unique, forest green with small brown flecks. I know I’ve looked into them before, but I can’t place when or where. My gaze rakes over the rest of his features in hopes of triggering my memory. His hair is a striking silver, but it fades perfectly into the dark, nicely trimmed scruff covering his face. He isn’t old or greyed. The silver appears to just be a natural color for him. He stands only about an inch or two taller than Alekai, who dwarfs my sad five-foot-four frame. He has significantly more muscle than Alekai; it’s almost intimidating since Alekai’s large frame isn’t something to shake a stick at.
