Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 62

Five—in. Six—out.

Detective Michaels is watching Ryan Kane's house.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

Ten.

Calla stood. She ripped out the band holding her hair back, letting it fall loose and

wild around her face. She walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Her

dark eyes were calm. Expressionless. Her complexion smooth and pale. But a tic

had worked its way into her jaw; the muscle there fluttered, an indication of the fury

bubbling beneath the surface of her skin.

An imperfection in the otherwise flawless facade she'd worked so hard to put in

place.

She gripped the edge of the counter. She needed to find some semblance of

composure before her date this afternoon. Some semblance of control.

I have work to do.

* * * * *

"You look beautiful."

Cory smiled over at her, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting lightly

on her leg. He looked particularly handsome in that moment, the setting sun casting

an orange glow across his smooth skin, lighting up his blue eyes and highlighting his

cheekbones.

Calla felt nothing but disdain.

He smelled not of summer rain, but sharp cologne. And his hair wasn't damp from a

fresh shower, but perfectly tousled, to such a degree that it had to be by design.

She imagined that if she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, it would

come back sticky with product.

But it didn't matter how she felt. She had work to do.

"Back at ya." She tossed him a playful smirk.

"My dad thinks so, too," he agreed, and she laughed. Oh, for all his flaws, he was

easy to talk to, wasn't he?

"So where are you taking me?" she asked, watching the town roll by. They had

driven five minutes to the east side of town, heading in the general direction of the

Greenwitch Diner.

Cory confirmed her suspicions. "The diner. I hope that's okay."

"It's either that or pizza."

They shared a knowing look. Greenwitch was certainly not a town with abundant

options.

"One of these days I'll take you out to the city," he promised, moving his hand from

her thigh to grab and squeeze her hand. She squeezed his back. "How about that?"

"I'd love that," she admitted, forcing her mind not to wander from the asinine

conversation. "Getting out of town for a while sounds...well, it sounds nice,

honestly. I need that."

The car slowed to a crawl as he pulled into the packed diner's parking lot. He

released her hand to focus on finding a spot, shooting her a look out of the corner of

his eye. "How have you been?"

"There just...hasn't really been time to think about it," she murmured, staring out at the diner. Time to play the girl mourning her best friend's traumatic death card. "I

know that sounds stupid. I had all break to move on from losing Rachel—"

"She was your best friend," Cory argued, throwing the car in park. He undid his

seatbelt before reaching back over to take her hand, his blue eyes sweet and

sincere as he offered her a smile. "It's going to take some time. That's okay."

Calla took a deep breath and gave him a tentative smile in return. "You're right.

Thank you."

He leaned down to kiss her hand before opening his door, shooting her a furtive

look. "Don't move."

He hurried over to the passenger side, grabbing the door for her and grinning as he

held out a hand. "M'lady?"

"You're a nerd," she commented with a grin, letting him help her out of the car. They

walked hand-in-hand into the diner, the conversation turning to lighter subjects like

their class schedule, among other things.

They got lucky; the hostess, a shy freshman that Calla recognized, led them back to

the last available booth back in the far corner of the diner. She handed them a pair

of menus and then hurried away, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks after making

repeated attempts to catch Cory's eye.

Calla didn't need to look over the menu—it never changed. Cory must have felt the

same, because he kept his eyes trained on her, his focus unwavering.

He sighed when she explained the assignment Mr. Prichard had passed out for

psych. "You got so lucky. My schedule blows."

"At least you have gym with me," she teased, raising her eyebrows.

He conceded the point. "The one highlight of my day. But going straight from gym to

ball practice? Worse than death."

"I don't know how you do it," she admitted.

He shrugged. "Been playing since I was six. But Coach has been a maniac lately.

The late night practices are so counterproductive. I haven't been able to do a single

homework assignment all week."

Calla frowned. "What's his deal?"

"He's had a stick up his ass ever since...ah..." He rubbed the back of his neck,

suddenly self-conscious.

Gareth. He's talking about Gareth getting kicked off the team.

Making a snap decision, Calla decided to show her hand. "Oh...yeah. That ."

He leaned back, surprised. "You know about...? Wait. Are we talking about the

same thing?"

"Gareth?" she asked, grimacing.

He leaned forward, rubbing his forehead and sighing. "Yeah. Yikes. I wasn't sure if

everyone knew yet or not."

"Not sure about everyone, but I heard it on good authority," she explained.

"I can't believe it," Cory muttered, his brow furrowing. "You think you know a guy."

Calla leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand. "I never knew you guys were

that close."

"Close? Nah. Just teammates." He shrugged, running a hand through his blonde

locks. "We got on pretty well on the field, though. Guy has a lot of talent."

He's certainly athletic, she thought, imagining what sort of damage he could do to a

guy like Jacob. Or a girl like Rachel.

"Do you...?" Calla hesitated, as if she felt guilty for even asking the question. "I

mean, do you know where he even got it? The...?" She made a gesture to her nose

with her finger.

Cory leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "You in the market?"

She swatted at him and he pulled back, laughing. Their waitress came back around,

looking harried. She quickly jotted down their drink orders and then bolted, leaving

them staring after her in amusement.

"I guess it's not that important. In the grand scheme of things, I mean," Calla

explained, sipping from her drink to give her hands something to do. "The town's got

a killer to catch."

Cory couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips. "Fishing for clues again,

madame?"

"You caught me red handed." She held out her hands, and then dropped them just

as quickly. Her eyes fell to the table. "Can you blame me?"

He reached across the table to take her hands in his. "Calla."

She looked up. His eyes burned with some hidden emotion she couldn't place.

"I wish..." He lifted a hand. She held back a shudder as he ran a finger down the

side of her face.

She didn't get a chance to push him further. Before she could compose herself and

slip in another well-placed question, Cory ventured into safer waters, diving into a

detailed explanation of how he projected the upcoming baseball season to pan out.

With no clear idea of how to gain back control of the situation, she followed his

lead, pretending to be deeply invested in a sport she'd never given one spare

thought about.

As slammed as the diner was, they ordered and finished their meal relatively

quickly. Cory insisted on paying, and Calla let him with little fuss. If she had to suffer

through this date, she could at least get by with a free meal.

"So, what movie are we watching?" he asked as they climbed back into the car.

Calla shivered against the cool leather seats.

"Oh." Damn it. She'd forgotten about the wretched movie. "What's out right now?"

"Some old throwback and a chick flick that just came out." He placed his hand on

her headrest, craning his neck as he backed out of their parking spot. "Up to you."

"Decisions, decisions," she mused, pretending to think long and hard. "So many

options, so little time."

Tick tock goes the clock. You better hurry, Calla. Before the next body shows up on

your doorstep.

He chuckled as they pulled out of the parking lot, revving his engine as he

accelerated down the dark, empty mainroad of Greenwitch.

"I vote chick flick," she finally decided. Internally, she screamed.

"Chick flicks for the win." He raised a fist and she bumped it. Before she could pull

her hand back he grabbed it, twining his fingers with hers. He looked at her. "I hope

this is a better experience than your last."

"Hmm?"

"Now that Jessica b***h Sneider isn't here to ruin the movie mood."

"Oh." Calla snorted, remembering with some chagrin their last encounter. She could

still see the fear in Jessica's eyes as they stood toe to toe, Calla seething with rage.

The beast had clawed into her throat, begging for sweet release, for just a taste of

blood.

She shouldn't have lost control like that. But still. Would the world really be so much

worse off if Jessica's life came to a screeching halt?

Calla banished her dark thoughts, shrugging. "She must have had some major PMS

or something."

"Still," he muttered, staring ahead, his jaw tight. "She shouldn't have talked to you

like that."

"Eh. Didn't bother me." Calla shrugged again. "Bothered the hell out of Ryan,

though."

"Thought they were gonna go to blows, honestly," Cory admitted. He barely held

back a laugh. "Jessica would have kicked his ass. "

Calla laughed, too.

"But seriously," he amended, pulling into the movie theater parking lot. Calla looked

around, surprised to find they'd already made it across town. "It's part of the reason

I wanted to take you out. Better memories, and all that."

"That's sweet of you," Calla said, letting him rush to the passenger side for a second

time to help her out of the car. She stepped out as graciously as possible, hiding her

surprise when, instead of stepping back, Cory stepped closer to her.

His blue eyes were as dark as midnight in the low light from the busted street lamp

above them. She tried to make out his expression, but half of his face had been

thrown into shadow. He reached up to cup her cheek.

Oh, here we go.

"I want you to be happy," he murmured, looking from her eyes to her lips. "I really

like you, Calla."

She leaned into his touch. "I like you, too."

Not the worst lie she'd ever told.

He leaned down and their lips met. In the semi-darkness of the parking lot they stole

a kiss. Steady and sweet, she felt nothing even close to the fire she'd nearly been

consumed by when Vincent pinned her to the bed, his hands roaming over every

inch of skin they could find.

This was softer. Slower.

Cory pulled away, their faces still a hairsbreadth apart. "I...well..."

She thought she saw a blush creep onto his cheeks and she tilted her head to the

side, their noses brushing. "What?"

"I'm...not sure what your stance is on the, ah, institution of dating..." he tried again,

clearing his throat.

Great. Just what I needed.

Hoping to steer the conversation away from the talk of boyfriend and girlfriend—and

toward the conversation of who killed my best friend —Calla looked down at her

shoes. She hoped it came off as bashful. "God knows I want to, but..."

Cory grabbed her chin, raised her head to better see her expression in the

faint light. His brows were drawn with confusion. "But what?"

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes—as if the revelation were just too much.

"I feel like I can't , " she whispered, allowing her lower lip to tremble. "It feels wrong ,

being happy. Not when Rachel's killer is still out there. Not when I feel like there's

something I should be doing to fix it."

Cory sighed and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. "Calla...I'm

so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," she murmured into his shoulder, her head pressed over his heart.

She felt it thrumming steadily beneath her cheek. "I like you, Cory. But until I can put

all this bullshit behind me...I can't do that to you. Or to me. Or to her."

She would have hell to pay once she'd found the killer, she realized. Cory would be

taking these promises to heart. A heart she would eventually have to break.

The thought did not deter her in the least.

"I understand." She felt lips press against the top of her head. "My dad's going to

figure this out, Calla. I know it."

"You can't know," she said miserably, letting her voice grow thick with the threat of

tears. With her face still buried against his shoulder, she screwed up her face,

forcing moisture into her eyes. "What if whoever killed her just...disappears?"

"That's not going to happen," Cory said, more firmly. He sounded so sure. So

confident. "There are suspects. I swear to you, this case isn't going cold. Once

evidence is finished processing, it's a done deal. It'll be over."

She kept her face against his shoulder, hoping that her silence spoke the words she

could not say.

"What can I say to make you believe me?" he murmured, leaning down to whisper in

her ear. "I was sworn to secrecy. As dramatic as that sounds. But for you, I'd break

my promise." He sighed, his breath drifting over her cheek. "If I tell you this..."

"Cory." Calla pulled back and took his hands in hers. She ignored the couple that

shuffled past them, openly curious at the intense interaction. "Please."

He could see the desperation in her eyes—desperation that she did not have to put on or play up. She felt close to bursting, the answer to her endless hunt hanging so dangerously in the balance.

He chewed on his lower lip. And then he squeezed her hand. "Once they catch the

killers...you'll be able to put this behind you. Start fresh?" he asked, voice hopeful.

Trying to justify the breach in confidential information.

Killers. Plural.

Calla tensed. Closed her eyes. And then nodded. "Once they're behind bars. Or

dead."

She kept her eyes closed as he bent down to whisper in her ear once more. And then he gave her two names.

Two names. Two killers.

Two targets.