Grand Theft Autumn

Chapter 17

Pete's POV

I was waiting for Natasha. Again. She said that she had some information for me, and that she would come to my motel room. Natasha said that she would be here at 7:00. It was 8:00.

Should I be worried? There is some weird stuff going on, and she could have gotten hurt. To be honest, I haven't been fully trusting her. I mean, granted, she did let me see Patrick, but she wasn't telling me anything.

I had no idea what was going on. I was completely in the dark, thanks to her. But I do have to give her credit. Natasha hasn't killed me yet, and she has saved my ass a few times. Just would it kill her to tell me what was going on?

There was a pounding on the door, and I could hear heavy breathing. I quickly ran to the door and opened it without looking through the peephole.

It was Natasha. She looked out of breath, and there was a bruise on her face, just below her cheekbone.

"Na-" Natasha walked into the room, brushing past me. Her jacket looked hastily put on, as if she left in a rush. "Where have you been?" I asked. She glared at me, clearly not in the mood for those types of questions.

"I am here now. That is what matters, isn't it?" Natasha snapped at me. She located an unopened bottle of water, and drank from it.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Natasha ignored me and threw the now empty water bottle into the waste bin. Well, she tried, but missed. It bounced off, and I swooped down to get it. I looked at Natasha again, who was sitting down on the bed. "Natasha." I said, and walked over. She almost looked like she was on drugs or something.

Natasha looked up at me, her eyes unfocused. Should I call a doctor? Natasha closed her eyes and rubbed them.

"I am fine. I am fine. Give me a minute. Jesus, with all of the questions." Natasha mumbled. She remained sitting down, and looked at me. "I am assuming that you saw Patrick." I nodded.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks," I guess, I silently added. "But I still have questions." At my words, Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Of course you do. I can't answer any of them. It is too dangerous." Natasha said, and lightly touched her bruise, as if it was a self-conscious action. A thought crossed my mind.

"Whoever is keeping Patrick- did they do that to you?" I asked. Natasha shuffled back on the bed until she was fully on it. I frowned at her. "At least take your shoes off." Natasha ignored that last part.

"Yeah. They did. And they can do worse. That is why I can't tell you anything. Patrick would murder me if you got hurt anymore." Natasha said that like she knew Patrick, but it was probably just me reading too far into things. "How was he?" She asked. I sat in the chair on the other side of the room. Natasha's eyes followed me, expecting an answer.

Deciding to mess with her a little, I shrugged. "I can't tell you. You may get hurt." Natasha, who was in the process of taking off her shoes, threw one of her combat boots at me. She would have made her mark if I hadn't been tilting the chair backwards. "Hey!" I shouted at her. Natasha rolled her eyes, and continued to take off her shoes.

"Always messing with me. You are just like Lukas." As soon as the words left her mouth, Natasha's head shot up, and she looked almost horrified.

You are just like Lukas. Natasha knew Lukas? How? I looked at her, confused. I started to stand up, but Natasha was quicker, grabbing the shoe that she had thrown at me and scrambling to put it on.

"Sorry, but I just remembered, I have to go. I will- uh- talk to you later. Bye!" Natasha ran out the door, nearly tripping over her own untied shoelaces. Before I could say something, Natasha had slammed the door behind her.

What the hell?

I feel like that is something I think a lot after my interactions with Natasha. But this was big. Did she know Lukas? How were they related? Maybe that is how she knew how to take the journal, she had seen it before.

Wait. If she knew Lukas, and the journal, then she knew Patrick, back before I had met them. Back when Lukas was alive.

I got up out of my chair, and grabbed my phone. I had the usual threatening texts from Brendon. I think he was actually getting serious about coming here, to Glenview. I sent him a quick text letting him know that I was alive, and to tell him that he shouldn't come.

I just needed one person- just one- to give me answers instead of more questions. Apparently that was too much to ask for.

My phone rang abruptly, jolting me out of my thoughts. I picked it up. Brendon. I guess I better answer, just to calm him down.

"'Sup." I answered. Brendon scoffed. "What is wrong with 'Sup'?" I asked indignantly. I could practically hear Brendon roll his eyes. "Fine, whatever. What do you want?"

Brendon let out a short laugh. "You know, I have yet to hear your voice this whole phone call?" I asked, sitting down on the bed. Next time I see Brendon, I am going to fight him.

"You know what I want." Brendon spoke. "You to come home. " His voice was hard. I couldn't help but make fun of him.

"Oh, Brendon. It gives me tingles when you talk like that." I said, before bursting into laughter.

"I have said this before, I will say it again. Either you come home, or I will take you home." With those words, he hung up.

Okay, Brendon. Try to take me away without Patrick. I dare you.