Deadly First Day, page 28
part #1 of Embassy Academy Series
I hit at him wildly, but he thrusts his hands around my throat. I slap and scratch at his fingers, frantic to keep him from choking me, but he doesn’t let my efforts stop him. Grunting, he tests the placement of his fingers before dipping his thumbs into the hollow at the base of my throat. It’s the smallest hesitation. I can tell he doesn’t want to do this.
“Please don’t,” I beg.
His eyes are sad as they find mine, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.
My hands move in a frenzy as my breath hitches. Striking out, I dig my heel into the man’s shin. It skids off without doing much, making me wish I was still wearing my high-heels. If I’d kicked him with one of those, it would have hurt a lot more. Fear spikes in me as he tightens his hands, cutting off my airway even further.
“Please! Dali!”
She doesn’t move. There will be no help from the girl I thought was becoming one of my best friends. She’s huddled in the opposite corner, still trying to block out the kicking and scratching I’m engaged in.
My attacker’s frustrated huff is terrifying. Is it the last thing I’m ever going to hear?
“Adrienne?” Charlotte’s voice filters through the door. Then quieter. “Put me down.”
My mind goes blank as spots appear in my vision. “Charlotte,” I rasp. “Help.”
“Weird. Her shoes are here. Where did she go?” Charlotte’s voice is garbled. My hearing is tunneling.
My throat is burning, screaming for air as I flail in a last ditch effort to dislodge the man’s gloved hands from my neck. But I’m losing the battle. Already, my head is light like a balloon that could float off my neck at any second. My arms and legs are heavy, so heavy, but I will them, no, plead with them to keep moving. Fighting.
I don’t want to die. Not like this.
My limbs go slack, and my vision goes dark.
The door slams open, but it sounds so incredibly far away.
I can’t, I can’t open my…
38
I breathe deeply and open my eyes, blinking to clear my vision.
My fear hits me like a vicious slap, making me spring upright on the cot, eyes darting around frantically. In my chest, my heart goes from a resting rate to a gallop.
Pale green walls envelope me, and the heavy wood door is closed tight.
Dali and her father are gone.
Charlotte springs out of the straight-back wooden chair she was sitting in, her black dress pooling around her legs and her hair looking much less sleek than it had at the Winter Summit. The chair is right next to my cot, I notice, as if she’s been sitting vigil at my bedside. My heart warms, despite the frenetic energy coursing through me.
She leans over and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe now. Lie back down.”
I obey willingly, my throat aching and my body sore.
She pulls a thick, plush blanket over me. I recognize it as the one that usually drapes the edge of her bed. Then she produces a paper cup of water. “Drink this.”
I take slow sips, testing my raw throat. The cool water soothes as it slides down, relaxing my tense shoulders. “Thank you,” I rasp. My eyes find hers. “What happened?”
“Mikhail saved you. You should have seen him. He was a machine. As far as I’m concerned, he’s got a bodyguard gig for the rest of time. It was really impressive.”
“I guess so.”
“Shut up. Anyway. How are you feeling? Okay?”
I reach up and touch my throat, running my fingertips over the rough skin. “Yeah, but my head is pounding.”
“The doctor said that might happen.”
“Doctor?”
“Daddy called his physician and had him flown here in a helicopter to examine you. It was all very dramatic. You’re going to be fine, by the way.”
“And Dali? Her dad?”
“That scumbag has already left the country, but it’s likely that he’ll be prosecuted in Malawi. The police are pretty sure he killed Na, based on the little bit Dali said after we found you, but they’re not sure they can prove it. They can prove that he was attempting to murder you, so there’s that.”
“Dali said something?”
Charlotte nods. “She was pretty upset and crying and everything, but I heard the gist of it.”
So, she’d found her back-bone after all, and stood up to her own father. I can only imagine how hard that was for her, especially given that he was just trying to protect her from Na. But wow, did he go about it wrong.
“Stay right there,” Charlotte commands, sweeping toward the door and opening it a sliver.
Flashing lights and eager voices filter into the room.
“She’s awake,” Charlotte says to someone outside before closing the door quickly. “Daddy only let in three reporters, but it’s still crazy out there, what with the cameras and microphones and everything. He’s got poor Cal standing with him.”
“He got back from his art critique okay?”
Charlotte brow furrows. “You knew about that? Wow. Daddy was furious. He told Cal he’d have to drop out of art school. It wasn’t pretty.”
My lips purse. There has to be a way to help Cal so he can keep doing what he loves.
Out in the hall, the noise quiets.
I lean toward it, trying to listen.
The door swings open and my father, Mrs. Cavendish-Holt, and Cal come into the room. Cal takes the corner of something out of his messenger bag and mouths, “I got it back.”
His graphic novel. The Chinese ambassador must have returned it to him.
I smile.
“Sweety, we’re so glad you’re okay. You had us worried.” Mrs. Cavendish-Holt floats over to my cot and gives me a gentle hug.
I hug her back, surprised.
“We certainly were worried, but you’re going to be fine. Better than fine. You’re strong, Adrienne. I’m proud of you.”
I’m stunned by my father’s praise. He’s never said anything like that to me before.
“Thanks,” I manage, and hold out my arms.
He gives me a nice but short hug before stepping back. He shoots a quick glance at his wife, who shakes her head no. They’re clearly communicating without words. His head inclines, and she nods with obvious reluctance.
Then my father turns to me. “I know it’s not ideal, but do you feel up to making an appearance in the hallway? Just to let the reporters know you’re doing all right?”
I mull it over for a few beats, finally deciding that if he can admit that he’s proud of me, I can do this for him. I nod.
“Great. Thank you.”
I take his extended hand and follow him toward the door, not bothering to smooth my heavily wrinkled dress.
Charlotte drapes the blanket over my shoulders, and I clutch it under my chin to ward off the cold.
There’s a buzz of activity, and several cameras flash as I emerge from the room.
Mikhail, who is standing against the wall, steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine. “Adrienne,” he whispers.
To heck with decorum. Dropping the blanket, I fling my arms around his torso and squeeze. “You saved me. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” His arms wrap around me in a strong hug, and I could stay here all day.
My father gently tugs me away, and the reporters start asking questions in rapid fire. It’s overwhelming even though there are only three of them. I pause to gather my thoughts.
“Adrienne, are you okay?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Why did they attack you?”
“Were you scared?”
“Um, I’m okay. A little sore.” I glance at my father, who shakes his head. “I can’t comment on why they attacked me, other than to say I’m incredibly grateful that Mikhail Sokolov, and my sister Charlotte were here to stop them. And, yes, I was terrified.”
The reporters chuckle, clutching their microphones.
Dad beckons me toward him, and gestures to the seclusion of the room with my cot. I’m so exhausted, I would love to duck through that door and take a long nap, Rip Van Winkle style, but there’s something I have to do first.
“Hey, did you guys know that Callahan is an artist? He’s working on his first graphic novel. Show them, Cal.”
Dad’s nostrils flare, but he remains motionless as Cal steps up beside me and pulls his art out of his bag. “It’s not finished yet,” he says.
“What is it about?”
“Can we see some of the illustrations?”
“Are you taking art classes?”
Cal glances at me, eyes wide.
“Go on,” I mouth, smiling.
He smiles back. “It’s about the queen of the vampires. It was inspired by my girlfriend Li Na, who was killed earlier this fall. I’m taking classes at the Art Institute downtown. I love it.”
The reporters ask a few more questions as Cal shows them a couple of his illustrations.
I’m utterly spent, so I slink back into my room, grazing my fingers over Mikhail’s arm as I pass. I can feel his eyes on me.
Charlotte follows me in. “That was wicked. Nicely done.”
“Dad’s going to be so mad.”
“Let him be. He’ll get over it. Cal should have just told us that he hates politics, but this works too.”
“I hope so.”
“You saw those reporters. Once every news outlet in the country reports that Senator Holt’s son is a graphic artist, Daddy will have to let him study art. It was genius. I wish I’d thought of it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She gives me a lopsided grin. “I underestimated you. You’re not a loser, after all.”
“And here I’d just gotten used to you calling me that.”
“I didn’t say I was going to stop.”
39
The next afternoon, I’m in my dorm room, shifting through the clothes in my dresser, trying to decide what I want to take with me to my father’s house for Christmas break. It’s the first time I’ve been alone since Dali’s dad tried to kill me, and the quiet is almost eerie. I expect the Cavendish-Holts to invade my space at any moment.
A soft knock comes on my door. “Can I come in?”
Ricardo.
I whirl around in surprise. Charlotte told me he tried to visit yesterday, but our father had turned him away, saying I needed time to rest.
I’m considering not answering now, either, because I’m not sure I’m up to having another gut-wrenching conversation with him. Even so, I find myself saying in a hoarse whisper, “Yeah, come in.”
I pull up my baggy pajama pants and sink into my desk chair, ready for whatever he’s come here to say. Hopefully I’ll get some closure before Christmas break.
The door swings open and Ricardo comes in. Wearing his fitted jeans and gray t-shirt, he looks like the boy I thought was becoming one of my best friends. I frown.
Concern shows in his eyes as they wash over me, stalling at my throat, where ugly red bruises have formed. Anger flashes over his face. He takes a step toward me, but halts. “Are you okay?” His voice is quiet and unsure, a tone I’ve never heard from him before.
“I’m fine. Just packing for break.”
“Good.” He nods, standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor.
“Was that all you wanted? To see if I was okay?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” He groans. “Why is this so hard?”
“You mean having a conversation that doesn’t consist of one-sided flirting?”
“Hey, you flirted right back.”
“I did,” I concede. “It was fun, but then you pushed me away. It hurt, a lot.”
He takes another step toward me, holding out his hands in supplication. “Please, let me explain.”
I debate for a second. Do I really want to hear his excuses? I sigh. “Go ahead.”
Ricardo’s posture relaxes. “You have to understand. I was eight when my mom left us. After that, I internalized this idea that all girls leave. So ever since then I haven’t been close to any of them, whether I was dating them or just friends. When I got too attached, I dumped them. Quick and painless, I hoped. But clearly that wasn’t true. Genevieve made that crystal clear to me earlier this year. I’ve already apologized to her, before you say that I need to.”
I close my mouth. That is exactly what I had opened it to say.
My heart squeezes. “So you’re saying you and I were becoming friends, so you ran away?”
His eyes land on mine. “Yes.”
“It wasn’t because you thought I killed Na?”
“Honestly, it crossed my mind, but then I realized there’s no way you would do something like that. You’re much too nice to kill anyone.”
I barely stifle the smile that starts. My hand presses to my chest over my heart as I look up into his eyes. “You hurt me. So much. In here. I thought you’d been messing with me the whole time, and then you got bored. Or worse, thought I was a murderer.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that.”
“Why did you call me that nickname? Chouchou? What does it mean anyway?”
“Honestly? It means girlfriend. At first I thought I’d like to date you, but for a while now I’ve just wanted to be friends. You’re probably my best friend, even.”
I’m torn. Half of me wants to throw him out of my room, but the other half...
“Come here.”
Ricardo does, kneeling down beside my chair.
“If we’re going to be best friends, you can’t disappear on me. Ever again.”
“I know.”
“You swear?”
He lifts a hand to hover over his own heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Okay.” Leaning forward, I give him a big hug.
Ricardo hugs me back, so tightly. Then pulls away, grinning. “So, friends, huh? You sure you don’t want to lock me down as your boyfriend?”
I laugh. “As tempting as that offer is, I’ll have to pass.”
“Because you like someone else.”
My eyes widen. “How did you know?”
“Come on, Adrienne. We’re friends, remember? It’s pretty obvious that you’re hooked on Mikhail.”
“Great.”
He chucks my chin. “Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure he likes you too.”
“He does not. He’s in love with Charlotte.”
Ricardo shakes his head. “No, he isn’t. Who is the person he’s always hovering around, always following? Not her, you. He’s always trying to protect you. Plus, I’ve definitely caught him staring at you when you’re not watching. I may have been sitting all the way across the eatery, but I still notice things.”
Against my will, hope is flickering to life in my chest. “Really?”
“Really really.”
I bite my lip. “Do you mind if I…?”
“Go on. I’ll just finish off these cookies.” He sits in my desk chair as soon as I’m up, and grabs a cookie out of the tin.
“Wish me luck!” I say, nearly running out of my room, and smack into Mikhail. His hands grip my upper arms to steady me.
“Are you all right?” he asks with more concern than I expect. His brown eyes are intent on my face, and I try not to let my hope grow at what I see in their depths.
“I’m fine. I was just coming to find you, actually. To thank you again for saving me last night.”
“It was my job, but I am glad I found you in time.” He flicks one of my curls before pulling away. “I was coming to see you as well. There is something I need to tell you.”
I incline my head, letting him tell me whatever he wants to say, this time. I owe him that. No matter how much it hurts to hear.
“My sister and I are traveling home for Christmas, but when we return, I am going to ask Senator Holt to find my replacement. I can no longer serve as your bodyguard.”
“What? Why? I want you to stay.”
Mikhail clenches his teeth. “It has become too complicated. I am afraid my personal feelings would interfere with my ability to keep you safe, and Charlotte, too.”
Any hope I had dies as I drop my head. Mikhail is leaving, and I’m never going to see him again.
“If this is about Charlotte, I don’t think she and Kenneth are going to last. Maybe after they break up, you could tell her how much you like her.”
Mikhail’s breath hitches. He looks at me for a moment, and I think he’s about to turn and go. But then his feet shift as he steps closer. His warm, rough fingers graze my cheek. He rests his palm there and I close my eyes, savoring the touch.
“Adrienne, look at me.”
When I do, I’m startled by how near Mikhail is standing to me. If I puffed out my chest, we’d be touching. My hand moves up to cover his, still on my neck.
“I don’t understand.”
“Adrienne.” He says my name slowly, with reverence, almost as if he’s making a wish out loud. His thumb inches toward the corner of my mouth, and my lips part. My heart is galloping in my chest, and no matter what I tell it, it will not slow down. The hope that was extinguished a second ago is a fiery inferno in my chest. This cannot be happening. Is this happening?
I look up into Mikhail’s face, and his mouth forms a word I think is, “Please.” He licks his lips, and then speaks. “It is not Charlotte who I have come to love. I have fallen for a girl who is brave, who is hard working, who perseveres even when it would be easier to give up. A girl who is beautiful, in here, and out.” His free hand presses over his own heart as he looks at me.
I’m speechless. I have no words for this moment. My tongue has completely overthrown my control, but for once I don’t mind. Instead, I lift my hands to Mikhail’s strong shoulders. “I love you too.” Standing on my tiptoes, I press a light, tentative kiss to his lips.
Mikhail doesn’t move for a second, and I think I may have jumped the gun a bit, but then he kisses me back. It’s glorious. My skin zings at Mikhail’s soft touch, his stubble grazing my jaw. I do what I’ve wanted to do for weeks, and sneak my fingertips into the hair at the nape of his neck.
He draws back, his wide grin breathtaking.
My heart starts doing backflips.
