Found ’em.
I slid inside the car, and my cell rang at the exact moment I started the engine. It was Bridget. “Hello?”
“Where did you run off to?” she asked.
“I…I…I’m not feeling well. I’m going back to the dorms to lie down. Call me when you’re ready, okay? I’ll come pick you up.”
“Dakota.” I jumped in my seat. Santiago’s dark eyes studied me through a messy mop of dark hair. “Nice to see you again,” he said in a menacingly low voice.
“Where did you come from?” I hadn’t even heard the passenger door open.
He pushed back the seat to make room for his long legs and large frame. “You should listen to your roommate, it’s not safe to walk alone at night.”
I didn’t know what to say. Was he real? Or had my mind decided that dreaming about him every single night was no longer enough. I dreamed of him standing guard outside my house, leaning on his gleaming chrome motorcycle, staring at my window while I watched him watching me. I dreamed of him kissing me, and of the heat of his body. I dreamed of him in my bed, blanketing me with his naked, hard muscles, and…
“Please tell me you’re not real,” I whispered.
He smiled in that arrogant kind of way. “Miss me that much, did you?”
Where had he gone? “Why are you back?”
He reached out and cupped my cheek, forcing me to look him straight in the eyes and triggering a flood of twisted, unwelcome emotions—fury, exhilaration, confusion. “Because you wanted me to come.”
“No. No, I didn’t.” I could feel it, the hysterics building like a geyser about to explode. “I wanted to forget about you.”
He tilted his gorgeous face to the side and studied me. His unshaved jaw worked a bit, before he parted those full lips and said, “I can see you’re going to cause me problems again.”
“Me? Cause you problems? Do you have any idea…”
Hell. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he couldn’t waltz into my life and ruin it. It was my life. “Get out. Get the fuck out of my car before I call the police.”
Completely devoid of emotion, he bowed his head. “As you wish.” He opened the passenger door and then paused. “You should know, however, that I’m not leaving you alone. So you can either make this easy or make this hard.”
No, no, no. Not again. “What do you want?”
“To keep you safe. To make sure you live a long and happy life.”
Safe? Long and happy life. Such bullshit! “Who are you?” I screamed.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Have you forgotten the rule already? No questions.” He slammed the door shut.
“You think you can come floating back into my life,” I screamed at him as he stood there staring back through the window. Maybe he couldn’t hear me, but it sure felt good. “But you can’t. I have no idea who or what you are. But leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!”
He simply stared, a condescending look on his face.
Okay. This was ridiculous. This guy had to be some crazy stalker. I picked up my cell and dialed 911. I was going to report him. Let the police figure out who he is!
But when the phone rang, the dial tone changed from a ring to a beep and then disconnected.
I redialed and got the same result.
I stared at the phone, my mind completely boggled. I looked up, but Santiago wasn’t there.
Okay. He’d done something to my phone with his psycho-stalker powers. Fine. But he couldn’t stop me from going to the station.
I pulled out and headed toward the main avenue. Where the hell was the police station? I came to a red light and quickly searched on my phone. Ha! Three blocks away!
Within minutes, I was turning into the lot. I grabbed my purse and…
Holy shit.
There, standing in front of the station, leaning against a signpost that said Police Parking Only, stood Santiago. Son of a bitch! He’s a demon from hell!
Well, he couldn’t stop me from going in. I wouldn’t let him control me. No, not again.
I marched straight for him, glaring with every step. Three steps from the door, a uniformed officer stepped out. The officer handed Santiago a large white envelope and shook his hand.
“Next time, don’t wait so long to stop by,” said the officer. “You know the door’s always open.”
My mouth hung open, and I stared with disgust. He had the SDPD in his pocket, too?
“Hey, John. I’d like you to meet Dakota Dane. The young lady I told you about.”
The officer looked me over. “Is she all right? She looks a little pale?”
Santiago snickered under his breath. “She’s a bit overwhelmed with the new campus, and it’s her first time away from home.”
“Well,” said the officer to me, “just stick with Santiago here, he’ll make sure you stay out of trouble.” He slapped Santiago on the arm. “See you later.”
I couldn’t believe this.
I headed back to my car, refusing to turn around and look at those dark eyes. Likely he was smiling. Oh yes, with that mouth I wanted to punch.
I got into my red VW, put on my seat belt, and sucked in a breath. This couldn’t be happening. It just…couldn’t.
Back on the road, I ground my teeth and clenched the steering wheel so tightly that my palms burned. My rage had me completely unable to think straight. I wanted to kick that man. I wanted to jump on him and throttle his neck. I wanted him thrown in jail.
I thought about returning to the dorms, but I didn’t want to hide in my room like a prisoner in my own life, so I headed back to the party.
A night like this called for shots.
~ ~ ~
Confession time. I’d never had a drink before. Not a beer, glass of wine, or even a sip of a pink froufrou drink while my mother wasn’t looking. That’s why when Bridget handed me her red plastic cup, instructing me to wash the horrible tequila taste away, I chugged.
“Oh no, Dakota! I said wash it away, not down the entire cup.” She reached into my jean pocket and snagged my keys. “Guess you won’t be needing these.”
“Why? I only had one shot. I’ll be fine to drive in a few hours.”
“Right. You have the look of someone who’s just warming up.”
Not really. Something that tasted so bad would have no way of making the situation better. Bottom line, either I was crazy or Santiago was some sort of super-stalker with mystical powers.
Worst of all, he was right. I had wished him back. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, writing about him. His face. His body. His voice. Every night I dreamed of him, and no matter how angry I felt, no matter what my rational mind told me, the little part of my body that ruled my fantasies couldn’t be shut off. Now, seeing him live produced some sort of Pavlovian response. I smelled him, my mouth watered. I saw him, my body tensed in places that had no business tensing. I heard his voice, pinpricks exploded over my skin.
Yes. I knew this wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. I had found his picture online, claimed he was my boyfriend, and then he appeared in my life for a few days and promptly disappeared. Now he was back, and within seconds, my reality had turned into a hot, scrambled mess. Mentally and physically.
Judge me all you want, world, but there is no dancing around this. I am fucked. And no…“A tequila shot won’t save me,” I added to myself.
“You didn’t have just one shot, you had six.” Bridget laughed.
“Huh?” My mind bounced back to the here and now, but wasn’t following.
“That cup you drank was pure tequila mixed with grenadine and a splash of pineapple.”
Oh. So I’d just chugged down an entire semester’s worth of shots. Great.
“Hey. Your cup is empty. Can I get you another?” A blond guy appeared at Bridget’s side. He looked like an eager little puppy waiting for a treat.
“Let’s dance,” she said and grabbed his hand. “You don’t mind, do you,
Dakota?”
The blond guy looked at me. “You’re not the Dakota, are you?”
What was he talking about?
My lack of response prompted him to say my last name.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
He chuckled. “No. But we all know you. By now every guy in school does.” He wiggled his brows.
Oh great. I hadn’t made it past the first day, and I was already the center of a sex scandal. For the record, I’d never even made it to first base. Pure as a boring patch of snow.
The blond guy patted me on the shoulder. “Oh. It’s not that bad. I’m sure four years will go by quickly.”
“Are you drunk? What are you talking about?” Bridget asked.
“Dakota here has made the blacklist. The first girl in, like, a decade.”
“What?” I said.
“I think that’s enough, Eric.” Santiago appeared out of nowhere. “Why don’t you take Bridget to dance.”
Bridget’s eyes lit up as she took Santiago in. “Sure,” she looked at me, “I mean, if you’re…”
“It’s fine,” I replied.
She walked away, gawking at Santiago’s ass until she disappeared into the other room, where the music roared and bodies were dense.
“What did he mean ‘blacklisted’?” I asked, fearful it was as bad as it sounded.
Santiago towered over me, but he suddenly looked like a kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You weren’t supposed to find out about that.” He ran his hand through his dark hair.
“What did you do?” I seethed. “What is blacklisted?” I repeated.
Sensing imminent drama, a few people in the kitchen moved closer to listen. Santiago grabbed my hand and yanked me outside to the back porch where it was only slightly quieter, and occupied by couples kissing, enjoying the cool ocean breeze.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”
“What way?” I asked.
“Like I said, you weren’t supposed to know, but I suppose it’s better you found out. Otherwise, you might think something’s the matter with you.”
No, no, no. I didn’t like the sound of this at all. “What’s going on?”
“Your name and picture have been circulated to every fraternity on campus. No one will go near you, at least, not in a nonacademic way.”
He’d put the kibosh on anyone dating me?
“Well!” I threw up my hands. “At least you left me options in the non-Greek world.”
He winced and then shook his head no.
He’d gotten the word out to the non-Greeks, too? But how? There were dozens of clubs, sports teams, and academic associations. It was impossible to get to every guy on campus. Wasn’t it?
“How could you?” I fumed. And more importantly, I asked, “Why?”
“It’s easier this way.”
“Oh. I get it.” The tequila kicked in, and my body felt surprisingly strong. I felt surprisingly courageous. I felt…angry! “You want to control me, own me. You sick…stalker!”
“My interest in you is purely…”
He was about to tip his hand. “What? Scientific? Professional? Extraterrestrial?”
He crossed his meaty arms over his chest.
“Okay. Well, I’ve had enough. You said you came back because I wished it. So now I wish you away. Shoo! Shoo!”
“Doesn’t work like that. I’m not a genie—are you drunk?”
“Not yet, but as soon as the rest of that drink absorbs into my bloodstream, I sure the hell will be! And do you know what I’m going to do?”
The porch wobbled under my feet.
“Do tell, little girl.”
Son of a—I slapped him hard. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You…monster.”
I stomped inside and charged through the kitchen into the overcrowded living room where I found Bridget dancing with that blond guy. I threw my arms into the air and let out a “Woo!” that was echoed by the rowdy crowd. The tequila made a warm home inside my chest and urged me to do many things I’d regret in the morning. Like kissing that really hot guy with the big blue eyes who’s watching you dance?
I beckoned him with my index finger, surprised when it actually worked. He was even cuter up close.
“Hi. What’s your name?” he asked, rubbing himself against me to the beat of the music—it was impossible not to, given how crowded the room was.
“I’m…Jane!” Dakota was, after all, blacklisted. But not Jane.
“Mike.”
“Hi, Mike. I hope you don’t mind, but I really want to kiss you.”
Yep. That was the tequila speaking.
“Okay by me.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let ’er rip. But instead of seeing Mike, I only saw my sexy ghost.
God, it felt so wrong. So sinful. But I knew it wasn’t the real thing, and that just made it even better. It was only safe when Santiago remained in the confines of fantasyland. I leaned into Mike and savored the feeling of his hands running over my body.
I expected at any moment to feel Santiago’s real hands prying us apart. But that didn’t happen. When I broke the kiss and looked up, I merely saw Santiago leering from across the room. He lifted his beer in my direction as if to say, “Enjoy the day.”
I nodded at him. I intend to.
Then he disappeared.
Bastard.
Surprisingly, the rest of the evening did not turn into that cliché of a college freshman girl away from home for the first time with access to unlimited alcohol. In fact, I felt quite proud. I kissed. I danced. I drank an incredible amount of water. I did not vomit on anyone’s hydrangeas or pass out. I didn’t end up in some strange guy’s bed. Nope. I walked out of the party with my chin held high, a giant blister on my toe, and a sober chauffeur, Bridget, to take us home.
As Mike and that blond guy from earlier—Eric—walked us to my car, I kept flashing glances over my shoulder, expecting Santiago to jump out from the bushes and beat the crap out of them. Or bark orders at me. Or throw me over his shoulder like his prized kill. No, I hadn’t seen him for hours, but I still felt his eyes on me, watching from somewhere. Or maybe it was simply a really bad case of paranoia. A completely justified case of paranoia!
Bridget and Eric talked and giggled quietly before she loaded herself into the driver’s seat. Mike was about to kiss me when Eric said, “Dude. No. Don’t kiss her.”
Mike looked at him as if he were asking for an ass whooping.
“Dude,” Eric said, “that’s Dakota Dane.”’
Mike looked down at me. “But you said your name was Jane.”
“I—I don’t know what this blacklisting crap is, but it doesn’t involve me.”
Mike stepped back. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”
“No—I…”
He walked away. No, wait. He ran away. As quickly as his feet could carry him.
I slid into the passenger side of my car and closed the door. Damn it! Was this why Santiago didn’t jump all over the guy? He knew this would happen!
“Well,” Bridget said, “that blacklist thing is certainly going to put a huge crimp in your social life. Once you’re on, it’s almost impossible to be removed. So, who’d you piss off?”
I shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next morning, like so many mornings before this one, I rolled over in bed, half-awake, thinking that the events of the prior day had been a dream. Nothing but a bad, bad dream. But as my mind floated up from the depths of a sleepy swamp, I knew in my gut that Santiago’s return was real. And while a tiny part of me couldn’t help but feel fascinated—the man was a walking, talking question mark with killer looks—my saner side knew better.
Question was, what was I going to do about him? What could I do about him? Tell the police, the FBI? File a restraining order? Laws couldn’t stop a man who seemed to know my every move, who knew my secrets, w
ho had connections with everyone. No solution fit, but I wasn’t about to give up. And I’d be damned if I would let him take away my dreams.
I quickly dialed my father and got his voicemail. I left an urgent message and then tried my mother.
Voicemail. Damn it!
All right. Breathe. Calm yourself. Think. I pondered for several moments, but came up empty-handed in the solutions department. As for emotions? I had an abundance of those; primarily pissed off. Santiago’s unexpected return would not deter me from my mission—having a life! A perfect life. Which is exactly what I planned to do while I figured this out.
Wanting to let Bridget sleep, I grabbed my clothes, showered, dressed, and went to the café to pick up a much-needed coffee before heading off to buy books and explore the campus.
Maybe I’d call Bridget later to check out the beach or do a little shopping downtown.
But as I strolled the manicured grounds between modern buildings of steel and glass, map in one hand, coffee in the other, I found myself looking over my shoulder and feeling the need to check out every student, just to be sure they weren’t Santiago in disguise or something. I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I groaned. My hands were full, so I walked over to a bench and set down my cup so I could dig for the phone.
I looked at the screen. Santiago. How did I know? I answered but didn’t say anything.
“Good morning. How’s your coffee?”
Shit. I spun around but saw only backpack-toting students, trees, and buildings. Son of a bitch.
I didn’t reply.
“The silent treatment again, I see,” he said.
That’s right, you psycho.
“So, you’re still upset then?” he asked.
Yep. You got it!
“I don’t blame you. That’s why I wanted you to know that it wasn’t supposed to be like this again.”
“Like what? You mysteriously showing up like a creepy stalker on my first day of college, ruining my life with your sick mind games, and destroying any chance I have of getting a date?”
There was an awkward silence before he responded. “Your father is coming soon. Yes?”