Fade to Red (29 page)

Disoriented, she tried to hold up her head, but it felt like a bowling ball. Everything was blurry. The cloth was placed over her eyes again and held down.

“I don’t feel right,” she slurred.

A muffled voice responded, but she couldn’t hold onto consciousness long enough to hear it.

Ian had crawled into the bed at some point in the night. It smelled musty, but he didn’t care. He felt like he’d been out for days, but surely not. He’d be hungrier if it had been that long. He finally thought to look at his watch. 2:01 a.m.

He couldn’t stand to think of Sparrow worrying. She’d be frantic by now. She knew he’d made big plans for their anniversary, but he hadn’t given her any details. She didn’t know where he’d run the errands, but maybe the car had shown up somewhere and given them clues.

In one of the other rooms, someone was making a racket. He wondered if it was Coco or if she had help. Maybe she was angry or didn’t want him to sleep. He sat up in the bed and swallowed away the nausea. Not many musicians could brag about concussions. From a stalker. It probably didn’t count since she wasn’t even stalking him. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wanted Beckham, which meant Ian’s chances were slim.

He was about to get up and look around when the noise stopped. He heard steps coming toward his room and waited. Coco burst through the door and turned on the light. She looked manic.

“Tonight backfired,” she said, pacing near the bed. “Literally. I should have done it at least an hour later, but I was too wired to wait. The placement was perfect—close to the guards, so they couldn’t save the bitch. And the bomb worked just as I hoped, but it was so loud the owner came outside and hosed it down before the fire could even burn much of the cottage!”

She talked faster and faster, while his panic grew.

“Whose cottage, Coco?”

She looked at him and frowned, shaking her head back and forth. “I just have to get a new plan,” she said. “It’ll be okay. I’ll do better next time.”

“What did you do? Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?” he asked.

She sat on the floor for a second but quickly jumped up and kept walking. “I can’t sit still right now.” She shook her head faster.

“That’s okay. Just tell me when you can.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Her eye twitched and she rubbed her face. Her hands shook.

“I-I can’t tell you,” she said. “I have to kill you soon.”

“All the more reason to tell me,” he said. “You know that saying,
I can’t tell you or else I’d have to kill you
? You may as well tell me since you’re already planning on killing me.” He smiled and she stopped pacing and stared at him.

“Are you making fun of me?” she yelled.

“No! Not at all. I promise.”

Her face softened. “Okay.”

“Have a lot of people made fun of you?”

“Always,” she said. “But not Beckham. He knows I’m just shy. And you don’t either. You’re nice to me.”

“Has anyone made fun of you on the tour?” Ian asked, frowning.

“School,” she corrected. “I get made fun of at school.”

“Oh yeah. What year are you?”

“Sophomore.”

“How old are you?” He thought she was probably in her late twenties.

“Fifteen.”

Holy mother.
She was all over the place. No way she was anything close to fifteen.

“Do you know Roxie?” he asked.

Her face darkened. “I tried to kill her tonight and she survived. How does someone survive a bomb like that?”

His pulse quickened. Roxie was okay. Oh God. He was scared to mention Sparrow. She didn’t seem to be on Coco’s radar, but he had to know.

“Were you able to get rid of my car?” he asked.

“Oh yeah. I pushed it off a cliff not too far from Beckham’s house. I stayed until it went underwater.” She held up her hand. “You’ll be glad to know this didn’t go to waste.” Sparrow’s new ring was on her finger.

Rage hit him so hard his body physically burned. The knot in his chest grew and he swallowed hard before he spoke again. He knew he was walking a tightrope.

“Smart. You’re staying a step ahead. I can’t believe you were able to drag me to this place. I’m a heavy bastard.” He struggled to keep his tone light.

She smiled. “I’ve had a lot of time to work on this. You have to be prepared for every scenario. Surprises. You were a surprise, Ian.”

He took a deep breath. She was so fuckin’ creepy.
Flippin’
. Flippin’ creepy. Sparrow and her crazy penchant for words had played through his head for years now. Even now she wrecked him from cussing properly. If he made it out of here alive they’d have a good laugh about that.

“Do you have family nearby? Do they know you love Beckham?”

Her smile curled and her expression turned in an instant. “No. They didn’t understand. They never understood.”

“Sometimes family doesn’t,” he agreed.

She studied him. “I like talking to you. I’ve already talked to you more than Beckham.” She twisted her fingers and laughed nervously. “I hope I can talk to him this easily when we’re together.”

“Of course you can. And you’re getting good practice with me,” he added. He was making himself sick being so agreeable, but it seemed to be working for now. She was responding.

She nodded. “It
is
helping.” Her eyes widened and filled with tears. “It’s gonna be really hard to lose you.”

“Lose me? You don’t have to lose me,” he said, sliding his teeth over his chapped bottom lip. “I don’t have to go anywhere.” He shrugged.

She didn’t blink and a fat tear dropped. “Beckham wouldn’t want to share me,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. This was so twisted
.
He leaned his head against the metal headboard and gulped back the manic laugh building in his chest. He had to get the hell out of there.

“Everyone needs friends,” he finally said.

Before Coco left the room, she turned off the light. Pitch black. No windows. He worked his hands, trying to loosen the rope around his wrists. It took a while, but the rope gradually gave; he held onto it. He stood and felt along the wall until he found the light switch and flipped it on. He half expected Coco to jump back in the door if she saw the light on. All was quiet.

He inspected every inch of the room that he could reach. The door was the only way out, and if he stretched his foot as far as he could, the tip of his toe almost touched the doorknob. The thick leather around his waist wouldn’t budge. The part of the headboard that he was chained to was secure, but some of the posts seemed like possibilities. He’d work on loosening them…

The bathroom had a sink and toilet, no shower. He leaned against the wall, feeling a wave of dizziness. His head was pounding a rhythm that would drive him mad if he let it.
Think
, he repeated over and over. Like a rush, it came to him. It was a slim chance, but he didn’t see anything remotely better. He made his way over to the bathroom, then took the lid off the back of the toilet and whispered relief that the flush lever was metal and not plastic. He unhooked the chain and tried to unscrew the nut holding the lever in place. It was old and rusted, so it didn’t want to move. He kept working at it, barely feeling it through his calluses. It was an hour before it budged and he could unscrew the handle off of the toilet. He’d have to keep Coco from noticing it was missing, but he’d worry about that later. He sat on the bed and dug into the leather with the lever. It was a frustrating angle and he gouged his stomach again and again, not bothering to be careful. Drips of blood gathered on the sheets.

Ian woke up sweating and sat up, panicked. Coco stood in the doorway with a tray of food. Her hair was pulled back and she looked tired. She set the tray on the floor. Her skin was washed out and the rims of her eyes were red. She reminded him of a mouse.

He didn’t know what to make of her this morning; her demeanor was completely different. She wouldn’t make eye contact and seemed almost sullen.

“Thank you,” he said.

He adjusted the rope so it was loosely twisted around his wrists and slowly stood. If she’d just come a little bit closer he’d wrap it around her neck. He went as far as he could go, but she stayed just out of reach. The leather dug into his skin and he turned so she wouldn’t see the progress he’d made on the restraint.

She nodded briskly and backed out of the room, closing the door.

The air rushed out of him and he leaned over, his fists and forehead against the wall. Everything hurt. How could he let himself fall asleep? He pictured Sparrow and Journey waiting for him and energy flickered, bolstering his resolve. He wouldn’t stop until his arms were wrapped around them.

He picked up the tray, smelled the water and oatmeal she’d left for him to eat like a dog, and decided to only drink the water out of the sink. He wouldn’t have thought Coco could go through with poisoning him, but something about her today, in just those few moments, scared the living hell out of him.

There were no outside noises giving him an indication of where they were. Without the sounds of traffic or ocean or people, it didn’t sound anything like the L.A. he knew. He strained to hear Coco moving around the house and occasionally thought he heard footsteps. About a half hour after she’d come in the room, he heard a garage door. And then silence.

Beckham took the fastest shower of his life, partly to make sure he didn’t take all the hot water from Roxie’s parents, but mostly so he could get back to Roxie as quickly as possible. It was painful to see her suffering like this. He hoped to God there was no lasting damage to her lungs. He’d never forgive himself. He had to know the son of a bitch who did this. Not just for Roxie’s sake, but also for Johnny and Al. He owed them that.

“I’m heading back to the room,” he said as he was walking toward the door. Rachel was sitting at the small table and Daniel was still in the shower.

“We’ll be right there.” Rachel smiled and Beckham’s heart lifted.

It sank just as quickly. He’d bonded with Roxie’s parents but didn’t feel he deserved it. If they ever found out where he’d been when Roxie was nearly killed…

He couldn’t forgive himself for it; he didn’t expect Roxie to.

He rounded the corner and saw Claire rolling the wheelchair toward Roxie’s room. When she saw him, she turned bright red.

“Just getting her now,” she said.

“Oh, okay. Well, let me kiss her before you take her away.” He smiled at Claire and she turned an even brighter crimson. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She fanned her face. “Oh yeah. So hot … in here.”

Beckham nodded at the police officer standing outside Roxie’s door. He thought the guy barely looked old enough to drive. There had been a steady rotation of officers guarding the room, and Beckham was grateful they were keeping the press away and taking the threat to Roxie seriously.

Claire backed into Roxie’s door and turned on the light. “All ready?”

Beckham stepped in and looked around. “Roxie?” Her bed was empty. He looked at the nurse then called out. “Are you in the bathroom, Rox? You were supposed to call a nurse to help…” He smiled at Claire.

“I’ll check on her. She shouldn’t be up by herself.” Claire walked to the door and gave a little knock before barely cracking the door to ensure Roxie’s privacy.

Beckham went and stood by the window to get out of the way. He tapped out a rhythm on his leg.

“Roxie? I’m just out here if you need help,” Claire called.

The room was silent. Claire knocked lightly again and opened it wider. She turned back to Beckham, a look of confusion on her face.

“She’s not in here!”

“Did someone else take her to radiology?” he asked.

“Must have.” She picked up Roxie’s chart and frowned.

He walked toward the door and motioned Hernandez inside. “Where is Roxie and why aren’t you with her?”

“A nurse took her to radiology, said I couldn’t be in there,” he said.

“And you listened?” he snapped. He held his hands up and tried to soften his tone. “You’re here to guard her. Make sure one of us is with her when she leaves the room next time, please.”

Hernandez swallowed and nodded.