Desire & Blood - The Thorne Siblings

27. Ed

"Ed?" Theresa said.

He smiled and bowed his head at her. "Miss Thorne, it's a pleasure to see you." Then he turned towards me. "Miss... Anderson if I remember correctly." His voice carried gravel from too much drinking or smoking.

"What are you doing here?" Theresa spat the words at him.

"Mr. Thorne Jr. has asked me to look for you, he's worried."

She crossed her arms. "I bet he is, but that's no reason to stalk me."

He spread his feet and put his hands on his hips. "We're just trying to get you home before the police find you."

"Police?"

"Yeah. Mr. Thorne's so worried, he called his friends there, asking them to locate you." The grin on his face widened. "Fortunately, I've found you before them." He gestured at her vehicle. "Wasted hours in this slum of a neighborhood looking for that car of yours after you got off that highway so suddenly, yesterday. So, please don't make no fuss and come with me. You...and your lady friend here." He jutted his chin at me.

"Make me." She glowered at him.

"Sure." An ugly smile distorted his lips as he took one hand from his hips, rummaged in one of his pockets, and retrieved a black, short rod. He pushed a button at its side, and a tipped, serrated blade swung out.

I looked up and down the alley—it was deserted. I could run, but I doubted that Theresa could keep up with the man at our heels.

"You won't dare," Theresa said.

"Oh, I won't hurt you, you're Mr. Thorne's precious sister. I'll leave that to him... But Miss Anderson will serve the purpose just fine." He waved the knife at my person without even glancing at me.

Arrogant asshole. A jolt of red-hot anger flooded me. I swung a leg and kicked him, right where it hurt most—or so I had been told.

He folded up—like that knife of his.

"Run!" I said and grabbed Theresa's arm.

Together, we sprinted down the street. As we turned into an alley, I looked back, seeing the man following us.

"Bitch!" he shouted.

The alley before us was long and as deserted as the street we had just left. Why was no one around when we needed them most?

"This way!" I turned into a backyard I knew from years back—I had my sofa table from here. The place was littered with junk. A van bleeding rust, piles of rotting boards of wood, a yellow digger missing its wheels. The area was bordered by a brick wall and a dilapidated tool shed at its left side and a boarded-up building on the right.

A ruin of broken business dreams.

"There's an exit on the other side," I said.

We ran along the building, threading our way through a cluster of steel barrels. Towards its end, the yard turned into a narrow road. A box truck with a smashed, crystallized windshield almost blocked it.

We squeezed through the gap between the vehicle and the house, reaching the second exit at its other side.

A wire mesh gate barred it.

I pulled its handle. "Locked."

The gate was twice my height, and a vicious crown of barbed wire-topped it. I turned, searching for a way out. The building to our left had barred windows and offered no escape, and the brick wall to the right was even higher than the gate.

The thundering sound of a steel barrel toppling over resounded through the yard.

"Ed!", Theresa whispered.

The tail door of the truck in front of us was rolled up, giving access to a dim cargo area. It was empty except for a dark object standing in the middle of it, about the size of my sofa, but higher. It was covered by a dark blanket.

"Let's hide in there," I whispered and climbed into the truck.

Theresa followed. We crouched behind the shrouded object. It was barely large enough to hide both of us. I lifted the heavy, woolen cover to have a look. It was a machine with a metallic housing, knobs, and displays. I gave it a probing push—it was too heavy to budge.

Something scratched along the truck's wall, moving towards its rear.

I froze. My heart was pounding, threatening to burst my chest, nearly drowning the trembling of Theresa's body next to mine.

I steadied myself by grasping the thick, rough wool of the cover.

Steps crunched on the path behind the truck, then someone rattled the gate.

"Locked." A gravelly voice—Ed. "Hey, girls. There's no escape from here. Where are you hiding?"

We needed a weapon, anything to defend us against the evil of Ed's knife. But there was nothing here, except for that heavy machine—and its woolen blanket.

"Are you in there?" Something banged the truck.

I grasped Theresa's hand and moved it to the blanket, motioning her to take hold of it. Her face was on me, but only the whites of her eyes showed clearly in the gloom.

I hoped that she had understood.

The truck's floor tilted under the weight of Ed climbing onto the platform.

I rose, one hand grasping the blanket, the other pulling up Theresa. She mimicked me, lifting the blanket.

Ed was a bent, dark outline centered on a bright background. I ran, passing the machine on its left, and Theresa did the same on the on the right side. The blanket rose between us.

"Hey—" Ed's shout of surprise was drowned by the billowing wool. It washed over him. He toppled back, fell from the platform, and hit the ground with a thud.

My throat hurt from a ferocious roar I hadn't been aware of making.

We climbed from the truck. He was still on the ground, covered by the blanket, groaning, moving. I gave him a kick, right where I thought his head might be. The answer was a satisfying yelp.

"Let's go!" Theresa whispered.

I hesitated, considering the wisdom of kicking him once more.

"Leave him. You can't help him," Theresa said.

Who said anything about helping?

We squeezed our way back into the main yard, and from there we ran out onto the alley.

Theresa was wheezing when we reached a crossing with a wide avenue.

Cars, people, and noise welcomed us. So much better than the junkyard hell we had just escaped from.

A cab was approaching. I stepped onto the street and into its path to hail it. Only the driver's brusque braking saved me from being roadkill.

The man rolled down his window. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" His Asian features seemed more reproachful than angry.

"Sorry, we need a taxi."

He shrugged. "Sure."

Theresa and I boarded the back seat.

"Where to, ladies?" He turned to face us.

Good question.

"Look!" Theresa pointed through the window into the alley we had come from.

Ed was standing at the intersection, one hand on his crotch, glowering up and down the avenue. A bruise marred the cheek under his left eye.

"Just drive," I said. "Now!"

"Okay." The car entered the traffic.

Ed shrank as we gained distance from him.

"I don't think he's seen us," Theresa said.

"Where do we go now?" I asked.

She shrugged.

If Ed had said the truth, the police were looking for us, or at least for Theresa. We needed somewhere quiet, away from crowds, to stay low and to forge plans.

"Take us to Terrence park, please," I told the driver.