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Abby quickly stands. “It’s Eric. He found Rachel. ”
Chapter 22
Rachel
WORTHINGTON PRIVATE HAS A HUGE parking lot, and because of the sheer number of students that own cars, the administration permits overflow parking near the football stadium. This is where I park every morning—a few feet from the ticket booth. My brothers, on the other hand, who drive separately because of their millions of after-school activities, park as close as they can to the front doors without a handicap sticker.
By parking here, I don’t have to worry about some idiot with a driver’s permit hitting my car or some overzealous door opener scratching my paint. I can also sit by myself without people gawking at the lone Young sibling who doesn’t have their act together.
The last number on the clock radio changes and my mouth dries out. Today’s going to be awful. I grab my backpack off the passenger seat, slide out the door and shiver against the January air. The first rays of dawn glimmer against the frost on the grass.
The pressure inside me feels like an elevator filled with sludge slowly rising to the top floor. The doors are begging to be opened so everything can spill out.
Jack and Gavin have been relentless about me helping Mom with the charity. Dad reminded me this morning that my answer is due to him this afternoon and said he knew I’d make the right decision. The overpowering combination of my two oldest brothers’ pressure and West and Ethan urging me to accept Dad’s offer edges me toward insanity. All of it is a perfect recipe for a panic attack, and I can’t have another one with Ethan watching me like a hawk.
“Rachel Young,” says a voice behind me.
I don’t know this voice. Scanning the overflow lot, I realize how alone I am. Rays of the sun peek around the school, but darkness still owns most of the sky. I slowly turn and suck in a breath when I recognize a face I never thought I would see again. It’s the guy from the drag race. The one that scared me. It’s Eric.
A flood of adrenaline flows through my body. For some, adrenaline makes them stronger and sharpens their reactions. The rush causes me to freeze. I consider screaming, but even if I regained control of the muscles in my throat, would anyone hear me? From the main parking lot, bass lines pound from several expensive cars with even more expensive sound systems.
It’s frightening seeing Eric. At the drag race he fit in, but here, among guys who wear white shirts and ties to school, he looks. . . terrifying. He’s tall, blond, and his body is more bones than muscle, like this skinny man I saw once in a drug prevention video. My heart quickens its pace. Why is he here? How does he know my name?
“Rachel Young,” he says again. “You have something of mine. ”
My head shakes back and forth and then I wonder if it’s my body shaking. “I don’t have anything of yours. ”
He tips a hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. You should speak up. ”
The smile on his face says he’s mocking me, but I don’t know why. I’ve done nothing to him.
Eric invades my personal space and I beg my feet to move. Instead, I become stone embedded in the ground. My breath comes out faster and I can’t draw in enough air to compensate for the loss. He reaches in my direction and touches my hair. His hand is ashy, cracked in spots, and I want so badly for him to disappear.
“You’re pretty,” he says. My gold hair falls from his fingers like rain. “And you played the innocent act well. I bought it then, but I won’t buy it now. Give me my fucking money or I’ll have my boys put you in the hospital. ”
My voice trembles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. ”
“Bullshit!” he snaps. His anger gives me the courage to stumble back.
He advances on me with his hand waving in the air. “The cops can’t touch me. Your parents can’t touch me. But I can touch you. The only thing that will stop that from happening is if you give me my money. ”
The world spins and all the thoughts in my head jumble together. I can’t breathe. I can’t. Instinctively, my arms wrap around my stomach as I sway.
Rough hands grab my face and all I see are eyes with no soul. “Hell no. You’re not going down. Give me my money or tell me where it is. ”
My stomach lurches and a high-pitched buzzing washes away his voice. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Eric tightens his hold on my chin, creating pain, making me unable to open my mouth for air. He’s going to crush my skull.
My airways no longer work. Small lights flutter in the periphery, and Eric’s mouth moves as if he’s yelling. I can’t hear him over the loud humming in my head. I close my eyes. A hand clamps on my shoulder and shakes me as if I’m a doll. The buzzing shifts into roaring.
The pressure on my chin, on my shoulder, disappears—leaving me floating in nothing until gravity forces me to the ground. I crumple—gasping. I convulse with the dry heaves. Blood pounds at every pressure point. I retch forward and place my hands on the cold blacktop to keep my face from hitting the loose rocks.
I suck in air and the sound is a wheeze. I draw air in again, lift my head, and through disoriented tunnel vision I spot a shadow throwing Eric against my car. Someone has come for me. A savior.
He turns and I know those eyes. Isaiah. “Rachel!”
I sit back on my knees and waver when a fresh flash of dizziness disorients me.
With a fist curled into the material of Eric’s coat and an arm shoved into his windpipe, Isaiah slams Eric into my car. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
