The Taking (The Taking 1)

“Hello?” The voice was tentative, and I hoped it was just because I was calling from an unfamiliar number.

I hesitated, but only for a second before exhaling into the mouthpiece. “Tyler?”

He didn’t say anything at first. There was a pause, and shuffling. It stretched out, and after a minute I started to worry about whether he was coming back at all. Then I heard him, his voice a sharp whisper. “Kyra? Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you. What’s going on?”

I shook my head. “I can’t explain right now. What’s going on over there?” My palms were sweaty, which seemed like a “normal person” thing to do. “Are those people . . . are they still at my house?”

“Most of them are gone now.” His voice was still hushed but insistent. “But they were here, and they were asking questions about you, asking my parents and me if we knew where you were. What did you do?” He stopped talking, and then, with just the barest hint of a laugh because I swear he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You know I was only joking when I asked if you were planning to knock off a bank.”

I wanted to laugh, too, but instead I groaned. “I wish it was that simple,” I admitted. “Can you get away without anyone knowing? I’ll tell you everything if you meet me.”

“My dad would shit a brick if he knew I was even talking to you. He got all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ when he was talking to that douche bag agent guy.” My heart sank. I’d been sure I could count on Tyler. And then his voice, husky and absurdly beautiful, found me from the other end. “So of course I’ll be there. Name the place.”

And despite the whole crappy situation, I smiled.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I KNEW THE SOFTBALL FIELD WAS A BAD IDEA. Agent Truman had already followed me there once; it made sense he’d think to look there again, waiting for his chance to pounce on me.

That was why I didn’t choose the softball field. I picked the bookstore instead.

I had a hard time believing Agent Truman knew anything about Tyler’s bookstore. Still, I couldn’t afford to take any chances. I stayed hidden behind one of the gross, garbage-filled Dumpsters in the alley, waiting until I was sure Tyler had come alone. And until I couldn’t stand the stench of warm rot emanating from inside the giant metal bin any longer.

When he got out of his car, I made the psst sound at him until I got his attention.

Despite the cloak-and-dagger circumstances, a spark lit up his face when he saw me, making me realize he had been the exact right person to call. At least until he got a good look at me.

“What the hell?” The grin fell from his face as his eyes raked over my blood-covered jeans. He gripped my arms, making it impossible to avoid his inspection.

“Don’t worry. It’s mine.” I tried to laugh it off. “I’m fine. Really.”

But my explanation had the opposite effect, and his expression shifted from frown to scowl. He reached for my hand and dragged me toward the bookstore’s back entrance, again not bothering to knock, just letting us inside. “What the hell happened to you?” he demanded. “First those government guys surround your house and ask a shitload of questions. And then you turn up covered in . . .” His eyes were so much softer than his tone as they captured mine. It would have been impossible not to see the fear in them. “. . . It is blood, right?”

I nodded, guilt welling up inside me. He didn’t need to be involved in my mess.

I guess I do have another option, I thought, feeling the manila envelope crumpled up in my back pocket. I could always run away with Simon and actually become Bridget Hollingsworth. Essentially, I could start over.

The idea had its merits.

But so did staying here.

Because here meant Tyler.

Tyler, who was watching me with his incredibly sympathetic green eyes and who had a dimple to die for and kisses that made me forget my name—the real one and my fake one. And who was reaching for me now in spite of the fact that I had blood smeared all over my clothes.

When his arms circled me and he pulled me up against him, his chin settling on top of my head, I breathed in and braced myself. I could do this.

“Remember when you said if I believe it, you believe it?” I raised my eyes to his. He frowned back down at me, the weight of that look like lead settling over my chest. “You might want to wait till you hear what else I have to say.”

Tyler was a way better listener than I had been. He didn’t interrupt me the way I had Simon. In fact, the only interruption to my explanation had been Jackson, who’d come into the back room to locate a book he’d put on hold for a customer. He offered us a sheepish apology for the disruption, even though we were the ones hiding out in his bookstore. He cast a few awkward glances my way, making me even more uncomfortable about the fact that we’d made ourselves at home in the dark recesses of the cluttered storeroom.

Tyler didn’t seem at all uneasy and was so focused on me that he barely registered Jackson’s presence at all. He offered his friend a quick nod but impatiently waited for me to continue my explanation after Jackson slipped back into the front of the bookstore once more.

Relaying the things Simon had told me was harder than I’d expected, and I’d expected it to be damn near impossible. I’d worried that Tyler was going to up and bolt at any second, because hearing myself repeat the information, hearing the way it sounded coming out of my mouth, it seemed even stranger and more far-fetched than it had when I’d been in his shoes.