Inevitable Detour (13 page)

Farren squeezes my hand, the small action so comforting that I feel safe enough to open my eyes as I finish recounting my story.

“Haven started screaming at him,” I continue. “She startled him so much that he jumped off of me before anything happened. And then, with no hesitation, Haven took off one of her stilettos and whacked him right in the balls with the sharp heel.” I can’t help but chuckle. “She was amazing, Farren. Her move was so smooth, like some ninja-girl thing.”

Farren lets out a laugh. “That’s my sister,” he states proudly.

“Right, and once the guy recovered, he grabbed up his clothes and took off.”

“So you were okay?” Farren’s voice is back to being concerned.

“I was.” I sigh. “But I wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for Haven. She saved me, Farren. She stopped that guy. He could have done anything to either of us. He could have hit her, attacked her, too, anything. But she was fearless.” Suddenly, I break down. “I miss her, Farren. I love her. We have to find her. It’s my turn to save her.”

Farren soothes me with soft words. “I know, sweetheart. I love her, too. And I promise you we’ll find her.” He leans across the console and wraps his arms around me.

I welcome his embrace, but the console prevents us from getting close. “Damn this thing,” I mutter.

And then I climb right over the console and on to Farren’s lap until I’m straddling him. He moves his seat back accommodatingly and holds me to him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have asked you so many questions earlier. I trust you. I do.” I lean back and stare into green depths. “No matter what you’re involved in, Farren, I know you’re one of the good guys.”

Farren smoothes hair I wore down today—specifically for him—away from my face. He doesn’t confirm or deny anything. And his expression remains inscrutable.

Doesn’t much matter. This close to Farren, straddling him, memories from the night before rush back to me, stirring up so many feelings. I bite my lip and lower my chin. But when his fingers reach up and caress my cheek, I glance back up.

Farren searches my eyes while cupping the side of my face. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “So soft,” he murmurs, like he’s a little bit amazed by me.

I want so badly for Farren to kiss me again. My hand goes to his chest, and I grip his T-shirt. When I tug—just a touch—he inches closer.

Our eyes close at the same time, and a second later, his lips touch mine, with soft brushes of contained passion. Like last night, after my admission of inexperience, Farren again handles me with care. But all his tender kisses and gentle touches only serve to heighten my desire. Hell with my heart, I long for him to do more than just kiss me.

Today is spring chilly, and both Farren and I have on jeans. But the dark material of the pair he’s wearing does little to hide that he is just as aroused as I. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I kiss him back with more and more urgency. And when I scoot forward in his lap, every hard inch of him presses against my core.

I moan into his mouth and circle my hips.

“Essa,” he says in a husky voice as he breaks our kiss, “don’t.” His firm hands on my waist still my movements.

“Is this the part where you tell me you have a girlfriend?” I question.

His fingers flex at my sides. “No, there’s no girlfriend.”

“A girl in every port, then?”

He arches an eyebrow my way. “Port?” His eyes sparkle amusedly. “I was in the army, Essa, not the navy.”

I smack his solid pec. “Ha-ha.”

He cocks his head slightly, eyeing me with interest. “Why would you think I have a girlfriend?”

I shrug.

“For the record, Essa,” he says, “I wouldn’t have been kissing you like that if I had a girlfriend.”

I look away. “So, why did you stop?”

“Hey…” He touches my cheek, urging me to look at him. When I do, he says, “I didn’t stop because I don’t want you.”

“Do you think I’m too inexperienced?” I venture in a soft tone.

“Not at all,” he replies, smiling. He brushes back a strand of my hair. “I like that you’re still mostly innocent. It makes you, well, you.” His eyes meet mine. “And, Essa, I like
you
. I like you a lot.”

I can’t help but smile. But I’m not just smiling. No, it’s much more than that. I am beaming. Not only does Farren look particularly gorgeous up close like this, with his full lips a little swollen from kissing me, but, damn, he just admitted that he likes me.

“I like you, too,” I whisper.

He pulls me to him and gives me a heartfelt hug. “We should get back on the road,” he says into my hair.

I lean back and nod. “Okay.”

While I am climbing back over the console to the passenger side, I decide I’m okay with letting Farren set the pace of whatever is happening between us. I just hope he doesn’t wait too long to finally decide he wants to do more than just kiss me.

A few hours later, we reach Oklahoma City.

“We’re stopping here for the night,” Farren announces as he pulls into the lot of a modest, circa 1950’s motel.

“Aren’t we going to check out the place where Haven’s car was dumped,” I inquire. “I mean, that’s the whole reason why we’re in Oklahoma City, right?”

He throws me a sidelong glance as he places the SUV in park. “
I
am going to check out where the car was dumped.
You
are going to stay here.” He gestures to the single-story motel building.

“Oh, lovely,” I murmur as I take in the surroundings.

It’s kind of like we’ve time-warped back to that sixties movie
Psycho
. The motel is a perfect match. There’s just no creepy Gothic house up on the hill. In fact, there are no hills. It is mostly flat here. Glancing around, I can see there are no other hotels or motels in the vicinity. It appears we are stuck with the Bates Motel.

“I’d probably be safer with you,” I mumble under my breath when a haggard bum hobbles by.

Farren makes a scoffing sound. But after we’re checked in to two rooms directly next to one another, he reconsiders. “Maybe you should go with me,” he says just as I’m turning the key (no key cards here) to let myself into my room.

I quickly agree, and we make a plan to meet back outside the rooms in half an hour, giving us each time to clean up after all the hours we spent on the road today.

Thankfully, when I step into the room, despite the old-fashioned furnishings, the place appears to be very clean. I take a quick shower, throw on a different pair of jeans, as well as a fresh linen blouse, and then meet Farren outside.

He’s still wearing jeans, but he’s changed into a black button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing his strong, corded forearms. I can’t stop staring, and as we start toward the SUV, I sigh longingly.

Farren is slightly ahead of me. He glances back at me over his shoulder and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yep,” I reply, my eyes traveling over his wide, commanding shoulders and down to his torso that tapers to a perfect V. “Everything is perfect.”

And for the moment, everything is perfect indeed.

B
ut things don’t stay perfect. They so very rarely do.

Reality creeps back in as Farren and I drive away from the motel. We travel to the outskirts of Oklahoma City, to a derelict part of town where abandoned warehouses and old railroad tracks dominate the barren landscape. If I wasn’t with Farren, who is more than capable of protecting us, I’d turn tail and run far, far away.

We slow to a stop and park in front of what appears to have once been a train depot, like from a hundred years ago.

“Well, this is creepy,” I say, jerking my chin to the boarded-up structure.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going in there,” Farren assures me as we exit the SUV. He points to a dirt path snaking around the side of the building. “The dump is back there. That’s where we need to go.”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” I mumble sarcastically.

I stare down at the crisscross of old railroad tracks and the clumps of weeds growing between them that we’ll have to walk through to reach the path.

When he sees me frowning, Farren says, “Come on. You’ll be fine.”

With a resigned sigh, I follow him over the tracks and to the trail.

“All we need now is for a tumbleweed to roll by,” I remark.

Farren laughs. “That might happen,” he says. “This is an old ghost town, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Cringing, I latch on to Farren’s arm. “And that, by the way, does not make me feel any better.”

A second later, a rat the size of a small cat scurries by. I scream and squeeze his bicep. “I hate this place,” I cry.

“Yeah,” Farren mumbles, more somber now. He wraps his arm around me protectively. “I’m not too crazy about it either.”

When we reach the back of the building, my hate for the Godforsaken place increases tenfold. There’s a giant hole in the ground, like a crater. But this is a crater from hell. It’s more like an abyss.

“That’s the dump,” Farren informs me, his arm dropping from my shoulders.

We both step closer. “You’re not really planning on going down there, are you?” I ask.

The abyss is filled with discarded farm equipment, large appliances…and automobiles.

“Yes, I really am planning on going down there,” Farren replies.

As I scan the contents of the dump I feel sick, and not just because Farren is going to lower himself into the horrid place. We’re here to verify if it was Haven’s car that was dumped, but I didn’t expect to have such a gut-wrenching, visceral reaction to seeing her navy-blue Jetta. Seeing it now, though, discarded several yards below where I’m standing, and wedged between an old refrigerator and a tractor that has to be at least fifty years old, I can’t stop the sob that escapes me.

“We had so much fun in that car,” I say, my voice cracking.

I think of all the late-night ice cream and candy runs—provisions for all-night study sessions—Haven and I embarked on. I think of the talks she and I had in that car—worrying about school, worrying about boys. All the good times come rushing back to me. Like how we used to roll down the windows, turn up the radio, and sing along to our favorite songs.

I share all this with Farren and finish with, “God, Haven’s voice was so pretty.”

“Don’t say ‘was,’” Farren whispers.

I look his way, and my heart breaks. “Oh, Farren…”

If seeing Haven’s car abandoned like trash is upsetting to me, it’s devastating for her brother. When he catches me staring at him, though, he schools his features quickly.

“Wait here,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m going down. Whatever you do,
do not
move from this spot.”

I nod and assure him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Farren begins to work on securing an old rope that he finds discarded on the ground. He ties it to one of the posts supporting the back portico of the train depot. Within minutes, he’s done and lowering himself to where Haven’s car rests.

I watch as the rope twists and flips around on the ground. In the dying light of day, it looks like a flailing bone-colored snake.
Ugh
. I shudder and focus solely on Farren’s form disappearing into the shadows as he lowers himself deeper and deeper into the abyss. Soon, I can no longer see him.

After a minute of complete silence, Farren yells up, “Essa,” startling me.

Jumping, I tentatively step closer to the edge and yell back, “Are you all right?”

Just as I finish speaking, Farren comes into view. He’s a few feet away from Haven’s car. The rope is dangling over what appears to be some dangerously sharp and rusty farm equipment. If Farren falls or the rope drops any further, he could be in peril.

“Essa,” he says loudly enough to garner my attention. “Steady the rope.”

I kneel and grab for the moving rope. I try to keep the rope still, but it ultimately takes me sitting on the damn thing for it to quit twisting around on the ground.

“Perfect, Essa,” Farren calls up. “Now, just continue to keep it steady.”

I do as he asks, and the rope stays settled long enough for him to jump over to the hood of Haven’s car. Farren reaches around the side and pops open the door. Quick as a blink, he’s in the car. From my vantage point, I can’t see what he’s doing. I only detect movement. I remain on the rope so it stays steady for him to jump back over to it when he’s done.

A few minutes pass, and when Farren emerges from the Jetta, he jumps over to the rope. He starts to shimmy up, shouting as he goes, “Move, Essa.”

I scoot away just in time to avoid a potentially nasty brush burn from the rope twisting and bending, same as it did before. When Farren hoists his body over the edge of the crater, I rise to my knees, crawl over to him, and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back. There’s no explanation needed as to why we both feel a need to be held right now.

Sitting back on my heels, but with my arms still held loosely around Farren, I ask, “Did you find anything? Were there any clues inside the car?”

He shakes his head grimly. “No, nothing helpful. But that is definitely my sister’s car down there.”

With neither one of us wanting to spend another moment in the place where Haven’s car was dumped like random trash, we hurry back to the SUV and return to the motel.