Rich Coven

Chapter Four

Beck pried my hand off his mouth and glanced at the cracked open door. Lowering his voice, he brought his lips close to my ear.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I heard you," I whispered. "Talking to Summer. You said that your dad-"

"Would you shut up before you get the both of us killed," he grunted angrily. Taken back, I let out a low gasp and attempted to move away from him. His hand was still clasping mine, and he pulled tight so I couldn't move.

"Would you let go of me?!" I snapped. Terror filled my stomach as I realized I wasn't going anywhere. The rapid thump of my heartbeat echoed in my ears and I swallowed hard to keep from panicking.

"I can't." He frantically looked around, seeming just as terrified as me. When his eyes finally settled on mine, he spoke again. "It's not safe for us to talk here. Do you trust me?"

I couldn't tell if it was me being impulsive again, but I felt like he was on my side. He had to be protected me. Why else would he have stuck up for me in front of Summer?

"Okay. I trust you."

"Just follow my lead," he said calmly. He relaxed his grip, but he didn't let go of my hand. He led me through his bedroom door and down the stairs to the front gate.

"Where are we-"

"Eden. Beck." The voice stopped us dead in our tracks. I hoped it wasn't who I thought it was, but could recognize his voice immediately. "Where are you two heading off to?" Mr. Garcia eyed us suspiciously. My heart felt like it had dropped my feet. I could barely speak up, and thanked God when Beck did.

"Eden was hungry so we're going to eat out. I do know all the best food places in LA," he answered nonchalantly. He was a good liar; I just hoped he was convincing enough to fool his own father.

"Eden?" he scanned me for confirmation. I nodded up and down hurriedly, like my life depended on my answer. Truth is it did. Quietness followed until he broke eye contact. "Okay well don't stay out too late. You have a big day tomorrow."

"We won't," Beck blurted. Mr. Garcia circled back to the house and Beck unlocked a black Mercedes G-Wagon at the front of the driveway. I hopped inside and waited for him to enter the driver's seat.

My heart was still beating a mile a minute from the interaction. Sweat stuck to the back of my neck and my throat was suffocating. I was frightened that if I made one wrong move, I would end up six feet under the Garcia's backyard. I needed a plan, one that allowed me to escape without notice. God I felt dizzy. How was I going to get away from a family with connections everywhere? I would have to change my name, my look.

"Breathe," he demanded, slamming the door behind him. I exhaled, my lungs grabbing whatever air they could get. The center of my chest was burning and I inhaled and exhaled slowly to regain my composure. "Here." He handed me a Fiji water. Unscrewing the lid, I gulped down the first half of the bottle.

"Thank you." My words came out small and fragile. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and shifted my weight in my seat. "What do we do now?"

"We get something to eat. You like burgers right?" I shook my head. "What about chinese?"

My stomach growled in response. It had been hours since I had last eaten.

"Chinese sounds good."

Thirty minutes later, we managed to escape LA's excruciating traffic and found seats in the back of Chinatown's Yang Chow restaurant. They were cushioned with bronze and gold silk and facing a table with a white satin tablecloth. Our silverware and menus sat on opposite sides and we  slid into our seats, facing each other.