Expecting to Die, Page 2

  Could she tell him?

  Swallowing hard, she gathered her courage.

  She wouldn’t just blurt out that she was pregnant. No. She would measure how angry he was first and take it slow. Besides . . . who could tell what he would do? And then there was her little lie . . . well, make it a big lie. She licked her lips and almost turned around and ran, abandoning the meeting. Because of his lightning-quick temper . . . maybe this wasn’t the best plan.

  Before she could decide, she heard the rumble of a large engine. Too late. Turning toward the access road, she saw the beams of headlights splashing against the trunks of the surrounding trees. Her heart went into overdrive. No, this was a bad idea. A really bad idea. He would go ballistic.

  She should never have contacted him.

  She wasn’t ready to confess the truth. Reflexively, one hand went to her flat abdomen.

  That was the problem; she often reacted before thinking things through. Wasn’t that what Mom was always telling her?

  This was wrong. All wrong. Meeting him up here alone with the coming night. No one knowing where they were. And it wasn’t as if she could text or call as her cell needed charging. Stupid! It would have been smarter to risk a public scene, maybe give him the news at a coffee shop, or a park full of people or somewhere that was public, so he wouldn’t . . .

  Oh, Destiny, what have you done? Do not tell him. Not tonight. Be nice, don’t cause a fight. Remember, you broke up with him. You’ve got the upper hand. And he’s majorly pissed off.

  Maybe she could just take off, before he saw her.

  The Jeep rolled to a stop and she was caught in the headlights.

  She steeled herself and stepped out of the beams.

  He let the Jeep idle, headlights illuminating a conical area in front of the rig as he stepped out. She saw him in the thin glow cast by the interior light, an alarm dinging to remind him that he hadn’t turned out the headlights. No doubt about it. He was a big man. Muscular. Strong. A college athlete.

  But he wouldn’t be carrying a weapon, would he? He wouldn’t bring a gun or a knife or . . .

  Every muscle in her body tightened as he slammed the door.

  “Des?” he called, his voice a harsh whisper.

  “Right here.”

  He saw her then and approached, dwarfing her. “What did you want?”

  She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t tell him. Not about the baby. Not here. Not tonight. “I, um, thought we should talk.”

  “About what?” He was still angry, his words clipped.

  “You know.”

  “About you breaking up with me in a text? About that?” he guessed and yeah, he was pissed.

  She shrank inwardly as he went on. “You know what? When it happened? When I got the text? I thought it was a joke, that someone had gotten your phone and fuckin’ pranked me. Like it was real funny. Ha-ha-ha.”

  “I know.”

  “It was a chicken-shit thing to do, Des,” he charged, his voice a little higher as his anger increased. “By fucking text? Really? Fuck me!”

  “I should have talked to you.”

  “Hell, yeah, you should have. But you didn’t. Just fired off a chicken-shit text and ended it.” He spat in the ground. “So what’s this about, Des? Tonight? Why did you want to meet up here?”

  She heard the derision in his voice, felt his fury radiating from him.

  “Are you . . . are you like trying to get back with me or something? Because no way. No damn way. It’s over! Hear me?” He took a step toward her and she stood her ground, even though she was shrinking inside. She wasn’t going to let him see that he frightened her.

  “I just want to know why,” she lied, knowing now she couldn’t, wouldn’t, dare tell him about the baby. Not here. Not alone. “Why you cheated, huh? With that girl at college, Veronica bitch or whatever?”

  “I told you she meant nothing to me.” But he was a little shocked at the turn in the conversation.

  “Yeah, well, I heard you were staying over at her apartment, like, all the time.” Her turn to be angry. “That you practically lived at her place.”

  “You want to go there, Des? Really? About seeing other people?” He was close now, looming over her.

  Looking up, she could see his eyes for the first time, burning bright in his sockets, catching the light from the Jeep’s headlights. “Because we both know that you’ve been slutting around.”

  “What? No! Who told you that?”

  “I have friends down here,” he snarled. “Don’t you think they keep me informed, let me know what’s what?” His jaw was tight, his teeth flashing white as he spoke.

  She remembered seeing him so mad once he’d kicked a dent into the side of Emmett Tufts’s Honda. Another time, he’d physically beat the crap out of Bryant Tophman for hitting on her at a party.

  “Your friends lie.”

  “Not about this!” He pointed an accusing finger at her, wagged it toward himself and back at her. “Not about us! You want to know why?” Before she could answer, he said, “Because, you know what, Des? It was important to me.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “A helluva lot more important to me than it was to you.” He leaned down, his face a little closer to hers, and she smelled the beer on his breath, the sweat on his skin. “Now that it’s all out in the open, you lying little bitch, it’s over for good. Now you don’t have to sneak around anymore. You can fuck anyone you want to—”

  Smack!

  She reacted. Just hauled off and slapped him so hard across the jaw that she felt the bristles of his beard shadow.

  Oh, crap. Why had she—?

  He froze. His eyes blinked, disbelieving. Then his fists balled and she didn’t wait. Spinning, she took off the way she’d come, back down the path that ran by the creek, her feet flying in the dust.

  He was a foot taller than she was, his stride immense and fast as lightning, but she was quick and agile and knew these woods like the back of her hand. She sprinted, adrenaline firing her blood, sending her feet pounding on the trail.

  Run, run, run!

  She heard him behind her, yelling at her, chasing her down.

  “I’ll fucking kill you!” he roared and she believed him. With every breath in her, she believed that if he caught her when he was this furious, he’d murder her with his bare hands, the very hands that had touched her and caressed her and turned her inside out with wanting.

  Don’t even go there! Just freakin’ run!

  Ducking branches, she cut around a tree, a few seconds later heard a thud, then a cry of pain. Probably a limb smacking him in the face, maybe the eyes. If only! That’s what she needed, pine needles piercing his eyes, half-blinding him and stopping him.

  She sped on, thought she might have lost him at the juncture where the trail split, one spur heading uphill. But she was wrong.

  Footsteps pounded, shaking the earth and sounding as if he were right behind her.

  Noooo!

  She turned up the hill, took two steps, and felt a huge hand on her shoulder, fingers tight.

  Stumbling, she tried to scramble away, to get her footing, but it was too late. He had her. He spun her around and in the darkness, she tried to see his face, to plead with him, to tell him she was sorry, but she couldn’t see him at all.

  Hands closed over her throat as she tried to scream.

  All that came out were gurgling, sputtering sounds and she couldn’t breathe. He was squeezing so hard. She fought, tearing at the hands on her throat, trying to dislodge the steely fingers that cut off her air, realizing belatedly that he was wearing gloves. That he’d planned this!

  Her lungs felt as if they’d explode. She needed air!

  Oh, God, please, stop! Please don’t. . . .

  Frantically she kicked and flailed, unable to land any solid blows, wishing she could thrust a foot or knee into his groin.

  The bastard was really going to kill her. Strangle her!

  Her lungs were on fire, the pain excruciating, the night-
dark trees swimming in her vision.

  Panicked, she clawed at his gloved hands. If she could bite him, kick him, scratch the hell out of him . . . All she could think about was drawing in a breath, just one. But there was nothing.

  She was desperate for air, her lungs screaming, her brain pulsing against the skull.

  Dear God, please, please help me. Save me. Save my baby.

  Her eyes felt as if they would pop out of her head and her arms became useless, swinging without any force as the blackness began to swallow her. She struggled, but it was useless, she could do nothing, her arms and legs still, the pain receding as she began to lose consciousness.

  No . . . No . . . My baby . . . My precious . . .

  Then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  This was a stupid idea.

  Make that a really stupid idea.

  Bianca Pescoli ran through the darkened forest with only a weak shaft of moonlight as her guide. She’d been a fool to agree to come here, in the middle of the night, lying to her parents, for what? Some sick kind of game in the woods? Frowning, she slapped away a mosquito as the heat of the summer simmered through the Bitterroots and the sound of crickets was a low hum. Faintly, from a distance, she thought she heard the sound of voices, but then there was silence. Just the crickets. She decided to stick as closely to the trail as possible, that way she wouldn’t get lost.

  At least she hoped not.

  Up, up, up, she loped, the path dusty, rocks poking through the dry soil, a canopy of pine branches nearly destroying what there was of the moonlight. Why had she agreed to this? she wondered for about the millionth time as her legs began to ache.

  The idea had been Maddie’s. Make that Madison Leona Averill, Bianca’s heretofore best friend. Well, after tonight, maybe she’d change all that. Maddie’s status was about to go down. Big time.

  A branch slapped her in the face and she let out a yelp, then bit back any more noise as she didn’t want to be heard. That was the whole point of the game, an idiotic teenage version of hide-and-seek, up here at Reservoir Point. Again, it was dumb. She rubbed her cheek where the pine limb had hit her and swore under her breath. Her calves ached and her lungs had started to burn with her run up the hill.

  She should never have come, she knew that now, but it was too late to back out. A group of kids from school had come up with the brainstorm of meeting at midnight at the lower parking lot of the wilderness that abutted the Long property, where Bianca’s stepfather worked as a manager. That was another problem. If Nate Santana ever got wind of the fact that Bianca was one of the kids who trespassed across the Long property to get to this spot, he would have a fit and probably ground her for life or something—that was, if her mother didn’t kill her first.

  She was reaching the highest point on the trail, where the path jogged around several massive trees, and she slowed a bit, catching her breath, glancing over her shoulder to the darkness below. For a second, she was certain someone was following her, chasing her up this ridge, and her nerves pulled tight. Even though that was the whole point, that a random boy would “catch” her, it was scary. She didn’t know who was behind her. Or what. Her pursuer could be a moron of a teenager or it could be a deer or an elk. Maybe a mountain lion, even a bear. Right now, an innocent rabbit hopping through the underbrush was enough to scare her to death. Anything larger would give her a heart attack.

  Get over yourself.

  She swallowed hard and slowed, taking in deep breaths, feeling the forest close in on her. Cautiously, she looked over her shoulder, her gaze piercing the blackness. Was that a pair of eyes staring at her from beneath a nearby tree, or just her imagination?

  Her insides went cold. She stopped breathing.

  Don’t panic. Remember: this is just a game. You grew up in these woods.

  The eyes disappeared as if swallowed in the malevolent darkness.

  Oh. God.

  A twig snapped in the summer night.

  What?

  A musky smell wafted toward her. She peered into the gloom, squinted at the shadows and heard a low warning growl that caused the hairs on her nape to rise.

  What the hell is that?

  She didn’t take the time to find out.

  Bianca bolted.

  Fear propelled her. Up the hillside, the sensation that she was being followed by something malevolent driving her upward. Her feet slipped a little and she pitched forward, caught her balance, and kept moving. Ahead, the trail would crest on the ridge, then wind its way down the backside of the mountain. She’d end up in Desperation Flats, which wasn’t a lot better.

  Did she hear footsteps? Heavy breathing? More growling. In the distance, she heard the howl of a coyote and her blood froze in her veins.

  Run! Faster!

  She sprinted wildly, crazily, one foot in front of the other, panic gripping her, her breath coming in short gasps, her legs cramping, her damned lungs burning.

  Go! Go! Go! Don’t stop.

  Upward she raced, driving forward until her lungs felt as if they might explode, and she came to a narrow spot where the trail twisted between two huge boulders. She flung herself against one. Gasped for air. Was certain a bloodthirsty demon, the kind she’d been reading about in her latest horror novel, was on her tail and ready to leap out at her to rip her face off.

  She looked back over her shoulder, ready to square off with the otherworldly creature or lunatic or creep of a teenager, only to find nothing but the engulfing black night, the forest of towering pines and scrub brush, the heat of August settling like a shroud.

  No footsteps pounded up the path, no labored breathing echoed through the night, no guttural sounds of a beast’s warning reached her ears.

  She saw and heard nothing. No bat wings. No frantic footsteps of kids in the forest. No breath of wind moving the branches. Even the coyote had stopped its lonely cry.

  Which was weird. Less than an hour ago, there had been at least fifteen kids when they started the stupid game, maybe closer to twenty. Who counted? All she knew was that she was with a group of teenagers who had collected in the scrubby area that had once been a parking area for some of the Long family’s lumber business. Cars and trucks had been parked haphazardly over the sparsely strewn, weed-choked gravel, music pulsing from the speakers of Austin Reece’s car, a BMW, the only one in the mix of beaters, pickups, and ancient SUVs. Kids had been hanging out in clusters, some drinking, more smoking, some toking it up, she guessed from the skunk-like odor of weed mingling with the more acrid scent of cigarettes. A low murmur of conversation, punctuated by laughter, had rumbled across the open area while silhouettes moved across the smoky beams of headlights from some of the vehicles. Red tips of cigarettes and the glow of cell phone screens indicated where others had been gathering.

  Bianca knew some of the girls. Red-haired Simone Delaney had been in her English class and Seneca Martinez, who had been on the track team, lived just down the road from the little cottage in the woods where Bianca had grown up. They’d ridden the bus together all through grade school. But they weren’t close now. And Lindsay Cronin? She was okay but always followed along with the crowd. You just didn’t know where you stood with her. One minute she was your best friend, the next your enemy. So weird.

  Maddie had come to one of these parties before, and her reason was simple: she hoped to hook up with Teej O’Hara. As if she had a chance.

  Come on, Maddie. Get real. Everyone knows that Teej is half in love with Lara Haas. And even he has to stand in line.

  Lara was definitely the “it” girl of Bianca’s class. And Teej, with his quick, killer smile, athletic body, and sharp wit, was out of Maddie’s league, at least in his inflated opinion of himself. Bianca suspected Maddie knew she was being used, but didn’t care, or thought it was a way to make TJ fall in love with her.

  Oh, sure.

  While they’d hung out before the game had started, Maddie had barely shown interest in what Bianca had been saying, and it wasn’t j
ust because even then Bianca had second-guessed the idea of the party.

  “I really should get back,” she’d said. “This doesn’t look good.”

  “Stop being such a wuss.” Maddie’s fingers had still clutched her phone, her head moving slightly, her eyes squinting as she surveyed the group that had gathered.

  “He’s over there. By Reece,” Bianca whispered back, hitching her chin to a clutch of boys passing around what appeared to be a bottle on the far side of Reece’s Beemer. With its parking lights giving off an unearthly golden light, a throbbing beat coming from its speakers, the silver car was the hub of the party. “He’s with Castillo and Devlin,” Bianca added. “Big surprise.” Those two were always hanging around Teej, hoping some of his popularity would rub off on them.

  Finally, Maddie caught sight of Teej, and the faintest of smiles had slid across her jaw.

  “You know the idea is to run from him, right?” Bianca reminded.

  “Run, but not too fast.” Arching a brow, Maddie slid Bianca a knowing glance, and from that point on, Bianca had realized she was on her own. The minute the girls took off into the woods at Reece’s “Go!” she’d lost sight of Maddie. It was as if her friend, who’d begged her to sneak out and join the others, had planned to ditch Bianca from the get-go.

  Even now, Maddie was probably trying to hook up with Teej—that was, if she wasn’t with him already.

  But that didn’t explain why there were no others nearby. In the parking lot, the “rules” of the game had been explained by Kywin Bell, a nineteen-year-old with a near-shaved head of blond hair and intense blue eyes. A couple of important inches shy of six feet, Kywin had one claim to fame. As a senior this past football season, he’d scored the winning touchdown in the big game against their archrivals by intercepting a pass and snaking his way to the end zone with two opposing players clinging to him but unable to bring him down.

  That had been nearly a year ago. Kywin had since graduated, and now worked in a local feed store and still hung out with the younger kids. He kept saying he was going to college like his older, larger, and more athletic brother, but was waiting for the “right” offer to play ball, which was all BS, as most of the colleges Bianca knew about had already started practicing for the coming season. It was the end of August, for God’s sake.