Fierce (7 page)

“Leave it. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. How do you get home, Rose?”

“I walk.”

“All the way across town? At this time of night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s dumb. I’m giving you a lift.”

“Yeah?” She grabbed her jacket and the rucksack with her office attire inside. “Thanks.”

He didn’t reply, just led the way through the darkness using the light on his phone. He turned off the master switch. Then, he locked up after them.

It was a cool, breezy night. A bright and gibbous moon hung low behind rashers of fast-moving cloud. Neither of them spoke, and there was no traffic whatsoever on Van Buren Avenue while they walked to his car in the parking lot two blocks up. He drove a Camaro. A yellow one with a souped-up engine. He drove it like a bat out of hell.

A persistent breeze swept the crisp morning air westward across the lake; it bit Avery’s bare skin as he sat on the fence overlooking the water. Rose was late, not by much, but he had a hunch she wasn’t late unless she had a damn good reason, and given the circumstances, that reason was all too obvious. She’d cut her losses and ran—maybe out of Mitre for good. She’d told him what he wanted to hear last night and had no intention of ever coming back. A part of him couldn’t blame her; people reacted in all sorts of ways when they felt helpless. Some withdrew into their shells. Some overreacted and did crazy shit like robbing a bank. Others, perhaps the best of them, knuckled down and worked their way out of whatever jam they were in. They dug deep and went to great lengths to better their situation whilst still remaining in control. Rose Jacqueline belonged to the latter category, just like Luca and him. The three of them had more in common than she knew.

At 6:45 he began his warm-up exercises, convinced she was a no-show. He was a little disappointed. He’d wanted to prove Luca was right to have faith in her, but maybe she was too damaged. Maybe life had beaten her down once too often and emptied whatever trust she’d had in people. Without Luca, Avery would have turned out that way, and they both knew it. It was tough to take on the world alone. You inevitably lost a lot of yourself in the process—not by choice, but through survival.

Rose was a survivor.

At 6:55 he swigged a few mouthfuls of Monster Energy and then locked his car. The darkening clouds and his goosy flesh told him a deluge might hit him on the way, but he felt up for it, ready to test his limits. Another couple of runners were circumnavigating the lake. They disappeared in the mist along the far shore, so he looked at the road ahead and set off.

First he heard the squeaky footsteps. Avery glanced behind him and saw a gangly, hooded figure racing after him across the road. It had to be her. The skinny legs in black yoga pants and the dirty gray hoodie did seem familiar, as if he’d seen them here before, and more than likely, he had. Rose had admitted to often running laps around the lake.

She peeled down her hood and cast him a half-excited, half-worried gaze that made him feel sorry for her all over again, and more than willing to forgive her for being late if she had a good enough reason. Her blue-gray eyes were big and dewy, and in the cool light of day she was attractive…very attractive in a young but worldly, not-quite-sure-if-she’d-bite-his-dick-off kind of way. Harsh cheekbones, pale and pink complexion. And she wore a headscarf that was way too colorful and becoming on an otherwise sorry-looking fashion disaster of a girl. But again, that made her unique, an individual. Unlike Ashley Culver and her sister, Lena, who were labelled and accessorized from head to toe and wore it all with contempt, Rose pounded the road on her own terms.

“Hey,” she said.

“Morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Either the other side of town’s in a different time zone or you’re—”

“Don’t get pissy, okay. I’ve had a shit start to the day as it is.”

“What’s up?”

“Had another run-in with my landlord. I’m pretty sure that asshole never sleeps; he’s
always
there ready to nab me at the worst possible times. Jerk keeps threatening to evict me.”

“Rent problems?”

“Let’s just say we have a difference of opinion. He thinks he’s not a grade-A prick.”

“A personality clash? How serious?”

She shrugged. “He’s a serious tragedy. Leave it at that. You ready?”

Avery wasn’t sure if she’d warmed up properly. Given the long route he had planned for them, it might prove crucial. “You might want to stretch first,” he said.

Rose scoffed. “What are you, my P.E. teacher? I’ve been doing this for years. Just beat your feet, mister, and I’ll show you what running looks like.”

“You got it.” He set off at a slow, measured pace, and grinned to himself when she tutted behind his back. She might be cocky now, but they had miles of open road ahead of them, and maybe a storm to boot—plenty of scope to find out what she was really made of.

***

10:05 and the strong headwind made keeping his rhythm a real bitch. Another downpour hit, the fifth or sixth since they’d set out, so Avery bowed his head to protect his eyes. A quick glance behind him revealed Rose wasn’t just persevering, she was hot on his heels. After three hours’ running? In these conditions? But the unspoken rule here was an important one for their possible mentor-mentee relationship: she had to be the one to give up. He was soaking, miserable, and very tired, but he’d go on for another three hours if that was what it took to prove his point about limits.

***

10: 35. The rain ceased and the sun came out. A blinding yellow sun that reflected off the minted road and would have given his spirits a lift if it weren’t for the relentless wind trying to drive him back. When it was at its most severe, he felt as though he was running on the spot, not making any progress at all.

Rose was still there. She’d fallen back quite a ways, but she hadn’t stopped.

Impressive. Really fucking impressive.

He thought about slowing his pace to let her catch up, but realized this contest had become as much about him as the girl tailing him.
He
hadn’t run this hard in ages, and he was engaged in his own limit-pushing battle. One he needed. He’d gotten lazy, indifferent. This was his chance to prove he still had some fight left in him.

But he resolved to glance back more often, to make sure she was okay. Rose Jacqueline might be the most determined girl he’d ever come across, but she had to be on her last legs by now. Yep, the moment he saw her stop, he’d go back and congratulate her, and his point would be made.

***

What point is he trying to make, the big ape? He has to be on his last legs by now and is clearly suffering
, Rose thought.

His pace had dropped; he was sporting a limp; the only thing keeping him upright had to be that boloney about pushing limits.
Well, guess what, Mr. World Champ, you ain’t built for running.
Seriously, the guy was dragging along more muscle than any three long-distance runners. He might look great naked, but extra muscle equalled extra weight, and you couldn’t have it both ways. At least, that’s what she’d read.

Rose was tired, too, but she was in her groove. The trick to surviving an irritating headwind was to not fight it too hard. They weren’t on the clock; this was flat-out endurance, and Avery would tell her to roll with the punches. To adapt. The look on his face when he conceded defeat—anytime now—would be worth every step of the run.

***

11:53. Heavy aches in both her calf muscles made it seem like she was pulling a tractor by her kneecaps. A chest full of what felt like hot, churning grit made her cough and wheeze. Her breaths grew labored, and a tight ribbon of pain squeezed her right shoulder.

Rose looked up and couldn’t believe he was still going.
The guy has to be on steroids or something. No way could anyone so big run for so long without enhancements
.
No way. For that reason alone I have to beat his ass.
After five hours of running, losing to someone like that would be like dying.

The wind had eased up, a sky full of white clouds shaded the sun. The cool conditions were perfect for endurance, but Rose wasn’t sure how far past her limit she could go.

As far as I have to.

The more she thought about the forces arrayed against her, the deeper she dug into her hate. Her stepdad, Mike, her prick landlord, the Twitches, being jobless and almost homeless and having no prospects whatsoever, and now losing this epic fight on the wrong side of the two-lane blacktop—the side taking her
away
from Cate, away from getting even with the bastards in Mitre. She ran on because she had no choice. Proving herself to Avery was too important. Beating him meant she’d have a second chance.

***

12:17 and she couldn’t distinguish between the zaps of passing cars and the heavy gusts punching her sideways. Her throat was brick-dry, the corners of her mouth caked with a tart, bitter substance she couldn’t believe had come from inside her. She glanced ahead but couldn’t see more than a vague, Avery-shaped mirage shimmering on the heat-haze; it looked as though he was gliding on an oily carpet. She couldn’t tell if he’d stopped or not. The possibility that he had, and that she was about to catch him, left her stupidly giddy. Laughing hurt. Breathing hurt. Losing would hurt more. So she bowed her head and somehow kept her rubbery limbs moving in his direction.

A passing vehicle or another punchy gust. The sidewise gush of air threw her off her stride, and her legs finally gave way beneath her. She fell hard. Tumbled. Ended up someplace soft. The taste of mud woke her up completely, and she looked around and tried to remember where she was.

The finish line.

It had to be around here somewhere. She saw brown grass, a river of mud running beneath her. A distant voice shouted her name. A man’s voice. He sounded concerned.

Funny that. No man had ever been concerned about her before.

***

When he saw her fall, Avery ran back as fast as his sore feet could carry him.
Jesus, why had I taken this so far? How was she supposed to trust him if I didn’t know when enough was enough.

It was the flip-side to his lesson about pushing limits. There came a point when determination crossed over into insanity, and it was usually hard to tell between them. A good mentor should know that only a jackass would let her push it this far, a jackass with his own agenda.

“Rose! Are you hurt?”

She crawled part way up and out of the muddy river running through the roadside ditch. Filthy from head to toe, she looked like some kind of swamp creature. He tried to lift her up, but the side of the ditch was slick and he had no strength left. Avery lost his footing, fell on his ass and slid into her. His momentum threw them both into the muddy stream. After the shock had subsided, they wound up splashing each other and giggling like idiots. Those final spasms of energy quickly faded. Rose and Avery lay on their backs on the side of the ditch, gasping for air, totally spent.

“And the moral of this story is…?” She daubed his face with a handful of muck.

“The moral…is about twenty miles back,” he replied. “I can’t remember.”

“So what did we do this for again?”

“Beats me.” He grabbed a chunk of wet clay soil and squeezed it over her face.

“Ew, gross.”

“School’s out for today.”

“So I made the grade?” she asked, not sounding particularly bothered one way or the other.

“I reckon so.”

“I’d have beaten you if I’d had a proper breakfast.”

He spat the muck from his mouth. “Word?”

“Word.” She coughed. “And boss?”

“Mm.”

“I’ve just thought of another hole in your bullshit lesson.”

“What’s that?”

“How the fuck do we get back?”

“We swim,” he said.

“Yeah. I drown you and use your corpse as a raft. Or we can thumb a lift?”

Avery considered that for a moment. “Way ahead of you.” He dug into the pocket of his shorts and retrieved his cell phone from its waterproof pouch. “You-know-who can come and pick us up.”

“God, no. I’m in no fit state to explain anything to anyone, least of all your brother. He still thinks I’m a guy.”

“Then I guess it’s just not your day.”

“You’re all heart, Wright Hook.”