Checking her surroundings before exiting the SUV, she made her way across the parking lot and into the corridor where the teachers’ lounge and dean’s office were located, knowing that’d be the only open exterior door. She inched the door open and slid through, holding it so it didn’t slam shut. She really didn’t want to run into the dean, as he’d have plenty to say to her, since they were on such friendly terms—not. She skirted the wall, ducking under the glass, and made a beeline to Beth’s classroom. It was only a few minutes after three, but other than the sounds of a basketball game going on in the gym, the students had already cleared the building.
Walking through the corridor, Kris’ gaze fell on all the posters and announcements. The junior class was already reminding students about this year’s prom theme, encouraging teenagers to buy their tickets now. The posters weren’t fancy. Mostly just black font on white poster board with glitter and confetti pasted over top of the words to add a splash of color. Students in this neighborhood didn’t have the money to have printed posters as she’d seen in teenage movies.
Feeling melancholy, Kris dropped her head. She’d skipped prom. Not because she hadn’t been asked, but because as much as she’d tried to play off the attack by that college kid, he had scared her. Never again had she accepted a drink from a man, or anyone for that matter. She’d switched to bottled or canned alcoholic drinks. She was especially fond of Mike’s Harder Lemonade. The regular stuff filled her up before she even felt a buzz. But the harder brand did the trick and went down smoothly. Her mouth watered thinking about it. She’d told Derrick that she’d only thought about a drink in passing, but truly, on more than one occasion in the last few days, she’d longed for it. Only because she believed it would settle her nerves. She was strong, though, she had no doubt she could abstain as long as she wanted.
Stopping at her old English classroom, Kris peered through the rectangular window on the drab-brown door. Beth sat behind a desk in the front of the schoolroom, her head leaning over a stack of three-ring binders in every color of the rainbow. Portraits of classic authors—Shakespeare, Dickens, and Twain—lined the walls, along with posters touting motivational clichés with images of kittens and puppies. Like Kris, Beth had always been a contradiction. Probably the reason they got along so well. Kris smiled at the picture of a kitten hanging off a tree branch with the words “Never Give Up” written across the top in large, bold typeface. She was almost certain the faded and curled-at-the-edges poster had been there since her mother attended high school.
“Hello, Ms. Witters…” Kris drew out her words in the sweetest schoolgirl voice she could mimic as she opened the door.
Beth jumped up from her stack of folders, her reddish-blond curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Kris!” Her friend ran around the desk as if she hadn’t seen her in a year, even though it’d only been a little over a month. Beth grabbed and squeezed her, holding on a good twenty seconds before leaning back to appraise her. “Oh, my God! You look so good. Where did you disappear to, a spa retreat?”
Kris chuckled. “No. What do you mean?”
“You can’t tell me you don’t see it. You’re practically glowing,” she squealed. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No, I’m not pregnant. Sheesh!” Kris smacked her friend on the shoulder. “Are you?”
Ignoring her, Beth lifted Kris’ hand with her one hand and fanned herself with the other. Oops… she’d forgotten to remove Derrick’s ring so she wouldn’t have to explain. Beth lowered her head, but lifted her eyes with a penetrating gaze. She must have been practicing on the students, because even though Beth was an inch shorter than Kris’ five-foot-four stature, all of a sudden she felt as if she was fourteen again.
“Really?” Beth challenged. “This is some major bling. What gives? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”
Kris licked her dry lips, not wanting to lie to her friend, but knowing she couldn’t betray her new family’s trust. “I’ve known him for years, but we met up recently, and we just… clicked. I’d always known he was the One. But since he wasn’t from here, I didn’t think we could ever make it work.” There, that was all true, she thought.
“Where’s he from?” Beth asked, her brow still lowered. “And how come I’ve never heard about him?” She shook her head, obviously unable to make sense out of the fact that her best friend had kept something from her for years.
“England,” Kris announced happily. Another truth. “It’d been almost six years since I’d seen him, and then one day, he just showed up.” Inside, she cheered at her cleverness. She was good at this. It was all truth. Nothing she could get in trouble for revealing.
Beth pressed her lips together in a straight line, clearly not buying her story, but she nodded anyway. “Got a picture?” she asked offhandedly, seemingly uninterested as she reached down and picked up Kris’ right hand. “This looks familiar, though. Didn’t you sell this ring when you were sixteen?”
“What are you, a detective?” Kris snorted, hoping Beth would drop the interrogation bit.
Beth planted her hands on her hips. “No… I’m your best friend.” She grabbed her purse off the desk and threw it over her shoulder, marching off without a glance backward. Kris followed, smiling, happy to know that Beth did care. In fact, she was beginning to realize more people cared about her than she had known. Heck, even a detective she’d met only once, fourteen years ago, cared. He could have filed the attempted-suicide report, but he actually wanted to see her. People—creatus included—cared if she lived or died. The thought made her want to smile as much as it made her want to cry. She’d never been alone.
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as the elevator doors closed Kristina inside, Derrick shoved through the stairwell door and bounded over the railing to the ground level. He would not get close enough to hear her, he decided; he’d just stay nearby in the event he needed to protect her. He hadn’t told her about the rogue’s words, as he hadn’t wanted to upset her, but now he wondered if he should. The rogue was obviously targeting Kristina, rather, targeting him by threatening the most important person in his life now and forever. A creatus knew the worst thing you could do to a creatus is kill the one whom they’d fallen for.
Derrick slammed through the steel doors into the parking garage, racing toward his BMW HP4. He had arranged special parking for the motorcycle with his condo’s proprietor, so that it’d be right up front. Kristina hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t bothered to tell her it was his.
Normally he loved the extravagant multi-color finish in metallic blue with silver and white accents, but today he wished he’d had it specially ordered in a solid black. He pulled his full-face helmet over his head quickly and backed the bike into a dark corner, waiting for Kristina to emerge from the elevator.
He watched gratefully as Kristina surveyed her surroundings before stepping away from the doors. Then she clicked the key fob, lighting the parking area as she rushed to the Navigator’s door, locking herself inside the cab. She acted tough, but he presumed the fact that she’d been attacked twice in her life—the first time watching her mother die—had to mess with her head.
Once she left the garage, he followed. He knew her destination, so he had no concern about losing her in traffic. He made a detour via an exit ramp then returned to the highway a few blocks later, ending up behind her again. Far enough that he could just see his truck’s medical parking pass on the rear window.
Derrick watched a black sedan trail Kristina by three car lengths, changing lanes within a minute or so when she did. Though the car looked simple enough, Derrick knew better. It was the new police interceptor. The dead giveaway; it didn’t have the vehicle model stamped on the rear of the vehicle. He doubted the local Boston police department footed the bill for the new Taurus SHO, so this had to be a FED of some sort. His brother had been right.