Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her. She stumbled down steps. Had she been on a stage? “Come on.” A woman half dragged her into a dimly lit hallway. Abra stumbled and bumped into a wall. The woman slapped her face lightly, once, twice. “Snap out of it, honey. What’d that devil give you?”
Abra heard Dylan. The woman cried out. He grabbed Abra. The woman protested, and he called her a foul name and told her to mind her own business. Wobbling, Abra kept walking, running her hand along the wall to find her way. Everything was blurry. Dylan caught up with her and put a firm arm around her waist. “Let’s go.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. The air was cold, the sky dark, so dark. She swayed, everything going black.
Awakening with a pounding headache, Abra heard a shower running. She hurt all over, inside and out. Where was she? She didn’t remember this room. It had one old dresser, a mirror, a worn chintz chair by a curtained window, and a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on the wall.
Dylan came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and using another to dry his hair. “What a night!” He grinned at her like a feral cat ready to pounce on a mouse. “You made a splash last night.”
“What happened?”
“What didn’t?” He laughed at her. “You went wild!”
She didn’t remember much after that pill Dylan had given her. She sat up and pressed her hands against her temples. “My head hurts.”
“I’ll give you something to take care of it.” Dylan smirked. “You surprised me, baby. I didn’t know a good little Christian girl could dance like that.”
Like what? She remembered enough not to want to ask. “What did you give me?”
“Just a little something to take the edge off.” He sat on the bed and pushed the hair back from her shoulders. He kissed the curve of her neck. “You wore me out, baby.” He nipped her earlobe. “I asked for late checkout, so we have until two. That gives you thirty minutes to get ready.”
Abra felt dread. “For what?”
“To keep going.”
They headed south on Highway 101 toward Santa Cruz and stopped at the seaside boardwalk at the mouth of the San Lorenzo River. Dylan was in high spirits. He asked her what she wanted to do. She rode the carousel and grabbed the brass ring. Dylan took her on the red-and-white Giant Dipper roller coaster. She went from abject terror one minute to hysterical laughter the next. After that, they made the rounds of boardwalk games. Dylan bought two colorful towels, swimming trunks for himself, and a bikini for her. “You’ve got it, baby. Flaunt it.”
They swam toward the platform. Dylan told her she was taking too long and lengthened his strokes, leaving her behind. The water was cold. She felt a shiver of fear, imagining what might be swimming in the depths. She swam faster and was tired by the time she reached the pontoon. Dylan was already basking in the sun. He became bored quickly and dove back into the water. She followed, dismayed when he reached the shore and walked away without looking back. He wiped the water from his shoulders and shook his head like a shaggy dog. She wondered if he knew a dozen girls were staring at him. A slender blonde in a one-piece pink suit walked over to talk with him. He turned to her and drank up the attention.
When Abra reached shallow water, she walked out without looking in his direction. Striking a pose, she raked her fingers through her wet hair and wrung it out, then shook it loose. Even Dylan turned to watch. When a young man headed her way, Dylan reached her first. “Back off. She’s mine.” He slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked up the beach. “We’ve been invited to a party.”
Cars were parked up and down a narrow street, music blaring from inside a beach house, the place mobbed with kids. The blonde from the beach called out to Dylan, and Abra resisted the urge to cling to his arm. He let go of her hand as soon as he was inside the door and wove his way through the throng ahead of her, holding up a quart of Kentucky bourbon and earning cheers. The girls all seemed to be wearing flimsy tops over swimming suits, some bikinis skimpier than hers. Dylan was soon surrounded. When he kissed the blonde, Abra felt a kick in her stomach.
She went out the sliding-glass doors to where others gathered around a campfire, their faces bronze in the firelight. Waves crashed and raced up the white slope, lost power, and retreated to the sea.
Abra had watched Penny flirt often enough to know how it was done. But it seemed more natural to her to let the boys who approached her talk. She smiled, pretending to listen, hoping the door would slide open and Dylan would appear. What was he doing inside the house with that blonde? When he finally did appear, she laughed at nothing and said something low so the boys standing with her had to lean in a little closer.
“Here you are, baby. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Liar. Abra didn’t take the drink he offered, lifting another someone else had given her. When he took it and set it aside, handing her the one he’d brought outside, she wondered if he’d put another pill in it. She heard shrieking laughter as a naked boy and girl came out of the house and made a run for the ocean. While Dylan watched and laughed, Abra poured the drink into the sand. He looked at her. “Come on back inside when you’re finished pouting.”
When she did, Dylan was standing among a cluster of boys and girls, most her age. He looked grown up and sophisticated in comparison. They gazed at him worshipfully.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Kent Fullerton stood next to her, a beer in his hand. “I saw you at the beach. I thought you might have come with Penny Matthews.”
“I don’t live with them anymore.”
“Since when?” Kent sounded troubled.
“A couple of days ago. I’m with Dylan now.”
He lifted his beer as he studied Dylan. “Another older guy.”
She looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Kent’s smile was rueful. “Penny told me you were in love with Joshua Freeman. That’s why you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“Joshua was a friend of the family. And I would have given you the time of day if you hadn’t lost interest so fast.”
“I didn’t lose interest. Every time I looked at you, you turned the other way. Penny said you were shy. I waited for you outside class once. You took one look at me and ducked into the girls’ bathroom. I felt like an idiot chasing a girl who didn’t even want to talk to me.”
“No one even knew I was alive until then. I didn’t know what to say.”
Kent studied her face. “Well, we’re talking now.”
“It’s too late.”
Kent looked from her to Dylan. “Are you sure you aren’t making a mistake?” When she didn’t answer, he peered down at her again. “Do you want me to get you out of here?”
After hours of watching Dylan with his growing throng of admirers, she’d like nothing better.
They hadn’t gone more than a few feet when Kent was yanked away. The look on Dylan’s face before he hit Kent terrified Abra. When Kent tried to get up, Dylan dove at him like a wild animal. People moved back and shouted. Rolling, Kent managed a few blows before Dylan straddled him and used both fists. Others moved in then, grabbing Dylan by the arms, dragging him back.
The music blared on as Dylan fought them, teeth bared, veins bulging on his forehead, face livid. “Okay,” he said. “Okay! Let go of me!” He shook off restraining hands.
Kent groaned and tried to sit up. Abra took a step forward, and Dylan grabbed her by the arm. “You and I are leaving!” He propelled her toward the door. People made a path for them. Even the girls who had been so enamored drew back, frightened now. The blonde met Abra’s eyes, and there was a look of worry, not envy.
Dylan’s fingers dug into her as he strode toward the car. Abra had to take two steps to one of his. He yanked open the passenger door and almost flung her inside. She barely had time to pull her legs in before he slammed the door. Planting the flat of his hand on the hood, he swung over, yanked open the driver’s door, and slid in. The engine roared to life. Swea
ring, Dylan revved it, then peeled away from the curb. He sped down the street, barely missing parked cars. The tires squealed as he turned corners.
“You were leaving with that guy.”
Abra closed her eyes, terrified. Dylan shifted gears again. Two days ago, that move had quickened her pulse. Now it stopped her heart. “He was one of Penny’s old boyfriends.”
“What’d you plan to do with him?”
“No more than what you were doing with all those girls standing around you.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a mirthful sound. He didn’t say anything else, and Abra stayed silent, wanting him to concentrate on his driving so he wouldn’t get them both killed.
Abra had no idea how many miles they traveled before Dylan relaxed. “I broke his nose. I wanted to knock his teeth out.” He gave her a cruel smile. “Maybe I did.” He mocked the girls he’d met on the beach. The blonde had wanted to show him the house, but when push came to shove, she lost her nerve. Abra looked away, knowing what he meant by that.
Dylan looked at her and grinned. “Just like Penny.” He swerved sharply, and she sucked in her breath. Gravel pelted the underbelly of the car as it skidded to a stop at the edge of a cliff. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her toward him. “I could throw you down on those rocks and no one would even miss you.” The look in his eyes made Abra’s heart jump like a fleeing rabbit. “What do you say to that?”
She’d make sure she left marks on him if he tried.
His expression changed. “Most girls would be crying right now, begging.” He gave her a punishing kiss. “You’re something, you know that?” Smiling, he shook his head and pulled back onto the road. “I don’t think I’m going to get tired of you anytime soon.” He drove on into the night.
Resting her head against the seat, Abra studied Dylan. He was so beautiful. He’d been jealous of Kent. Maybe that was a sign he did love her, but just didn’t know it yet. He gave her the smile that had made her fall in love with him—or made her imagine that she had, anyway.
“What’re you thinking about, baby?”
“Just enjoying the ride. Where are we going, Dylan?”
“Does it matter?”
She looked out into the endless darkness. “No.”
“I want to have a few more days with you before I head home and face the music.”
Abra shook her head. “You don’t have to worry, Dylan. No one will bother looking for me.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.” He gave a dismissive laugh as though the people in Haven were the least of his worries. “Let’s just say I left a little situation for my mother to clear up. That’s why I came to Haven, to give things time to cool off.”
“What things?”
“Some girls just don’t know when to let go. My mother said the wounded dove flew off and is spending a few months on the Italian Riviera.” He put his hand on her thigh. “So the coast is clear.” He took his hand away. “Problem is, my mother is going to take one look at you and want my head on a platter.”
Zeke walked to the bridge and rested his forearms on the rail. Clasping his hands loosely, he prayed, eyes open, soothed by the sound of water coming down from the mountains and flowing to the sea. Memories of Abra washed over him—hearing her newborn cry, seeing her helplessness, feeling her heartbeat beneath his fingertips; the breath of life he blew over her; her cold flesh pressed against his chest. He’d known fear before, but never as he had that night when he held Abra, slick from birth, close to death, in his hands.
I remember the way she looked at me with complete trust and love. And I remember the day that all changed.
He gripped the railing.
Lord, I won’t pretend to understand what You’re doing through all of this, but I trust You. Joshua is struggling. A battle is going on inside him. He’s just come home from one war and now faces another. He listens to me, Lord, but his heart is broken. Put a hedge of protection around him, Father. Shore him up. Encircle him.
Zeke straightened and looked east. Abra had been gone a week and no word. The horizon softened with faint light, announcing sunrise. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he started back. A glimmer on the walkway caught his eye. Curious, he stooped and picked up the item. Marianne’s cross, the chain broken. With a sigh, he slipped it into his shirt pocket.
When he let himself into the house, Joshua was sitting at the kitchen table, dark circles under his eyes, his hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. He gave Zeke a bleak smile. Zeke squeezed his shoulder and went over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee before he sat across from his son.
Joshua shut his eyes. “I wonder where they are now.”
It would do no good to tell Joshua he had to stop thinking about Abra and Dylan. He might as well tell him to stop breathing. “Are you working today?”
Joshua shook his head. “Not at the subdivision. We’re waiting on more lumber. I thought I’d go out to Gil’s and help repair the barn.”
“Good idea.” Hard work would keep Joshua’s mind occupied. He’d have to learn for himself that only time would ease the pain.
Dylan ran low on money and checked them into ever-cheaper motels. They ate at greasy spoons. Once, he gave her some money and told her to buy bread and cheese while he looked through the magazines. When they got back into the car, he pulled a stolen bottle of bourbon from under his jacket and tossed it in her lap. He found a place to park for the night and made a bed from two blankets he’d stolen from the last motel. He drank the bourbon while staring at the surf. Abra was afraid to go to sleep, afraid if she did, she’d wake up and find him gone. Exhaustion drained her resolve.
The sun came up and she felt Dylan’s hands combing through her hair. He searched her face, his expression bemused. “I’m usually tired of a girl by this time. But I still want you.”
She heard what he didn’t say. It’s only a matter of time until I’m done with you. Dylan would do exactly what he wanted to do. Ironically, that had been one of the things that had most attracted her to him.
Eyes hooded, he ran a fingertip down her forehead, over her nose and lips, down her throat. “I’ve got enough money for gas to get me home. I guess it’s time to face the dragon.”
Dylan hardly spoke after that. Abra grew more nervous with each passing mile he drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, though she did her best not to show it. He took San Vicente to Wilshire, turning off at South Beverly Glen to Sunset Boulevard. Pristine neighborhoods with green lawns like carpets and clipped hedges flashed by. Bakeries and dress shops, shoe and tailor shops, jewelry stores and steak houses, and more houses, then another turn onto Benedict Canyon Drive. He sped up and the Corvette hugged the road. Houses were set farther back, grander, more hidden.
He made a hard right turn onto Tower Road, sped up, then downshifted and made another hard right, screeching to a stop by a raised box in front of two huge stone pillars and a massive, ornate iron gate. He punched a button. A man’s voice crackled. Dylan called the man by name and told him to open the gate, then waited, his hand on the gearshift. A muscle twitched in his cheek as the minutes ticked by. Abra knew she wasn’t the only one on edge.
Dylan revved the engine and bumped the gate. “Come on, Mother. Enough stalling.” Tires screeched as he backed up and slammed on his brakes. He revved the engine again. The gate opened slowly. “About time!” As soon as it opened enough for the Corvette to fit through, he gunned it.
A man rode a car-size lawn mower in the woodland. The estate reminded her of Golden Gate Park—carefully manicured grass, trees, shrubs, flowers. The road curved and an enormous Mediterranean mansion with a red tile roof came into view.
Dylan sped up, swinging the car in a sharp circle and skidding to a stop in front of the house. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he shoved his door open and got out. He came around and acted like a perfect gentleman. He took her hand and kissed it as he helped her out. “Mother always stressed good manners.” He winked. “She’s probably watching
us from her tower.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he kissed her cheek. “Be brave. If she starts breathing fire, just get behind me. I can take the heat.”
A servant opened the front door and greeted Dylan deferentially. She gave Abra a polite nod. Dylan led her across the threshold into a red marble, white-pillared entryway with potted palms in colorful terra-cotta pots. An enormous, elegantly furnished living room spread out before them with plate-glass windows overlooking a courtyard with a huge swimming pool. On the other side lay formal gardens that sloped toward the valley view.
“Where is she?” Dylan asked the doorman.
“Upstairs office, Mr. Stark. She rang when the gatehouse let her know you’d come home. She wants you to come up.”
Dylan grasped Abra by the elbow. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on his brow. Was it the Southern California heat, or was he really that afraid of his mother? His hand tightened as they walked down a corridor lined with oil paintings and marble statuary tucked into alcoves. It felt like a museum. He stopped in front of a large carved door, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh. “Don’t say anything. Let me do the talking.”
Muffled voices came from behind the door.
Dylan let go of Abra and, without knocking, opened the door wide and strode in. “Hello, Mother.” A man in a suit and tie and a young woman in glasses, a black skirt, a button-down blouse, and black pumps retreated through a door off to the right.
A reed-thin woman in an elegant pink suit stood at windows overlooking the front drive, her blonde hair immaculately arranged in a chignon. She turned and tilted her head to one side. “Dylan, darling. The prodigal, home at last.” She presented her cheek for him to kiss. “So good to see you.” She sounded anything but pleased. She stepped away from him, her cold blue eyes fixed on Abra, standing in the doorway, where Dylan had left her. “And you brought a friend with you. Isn’t that wonderful?” Her tone dripped sarcasm.