Minders Read online

  “Why would James do that?” Ford asked.

  “There are rumors that you’re very well, you know”—Willy paused—“endowed. Maybe he was jealous.”

  Kansas came over and wrapped her arms around Willy’s neck as he said that. She planted an enormous lipstick mark on his cheek, gave them both a mischievous look, and said, “I knew you two were talking dirty.”

  Sadie felt a sharp prickle of impatience course through Ford at the interruption. “Jealousy wasn’t really James’s style,” he said.

  “Could be he still felt guilty about that day on the ice,” Willy offered. “Trying to protect you.”

  Sadie’s ears perked up.

  “The day with the beer can?” Kansas asked, smiling. To Ford she said, “Willy told me all about it.”

  Sadie’s breath caught in her throat, and she thought about the shack on the lake, the pile of beer cans. The voice telling James to stay away. Normally that would have triggered a river of images in Ford’s mind, but now there was nothing.

  Willy nodded. “I still tear up laughing when I think about the hand with the glove coming out of the ice—”

  “And Linc screaming like a little girl,” Kansas said. “That’s the part I can’t believe.”

  Sadie thought, Not nothing. Whiteness again. Still, placid. Boundless. Endless.

  Inescapable. Sadie felt Ford’s heart rate tick up. His breathing grew shallow, panicked, and his thoughts got choppy, There’s no way out, I’m trapped, hel—

  A bright strobe flashed in his mind, and the memory vanished.

  Ford said, “What did he have to feel guilty about? I was the one who messed up.”

  Willy gave him a perplexed look. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Ask him why not, Sadie urged. Ask him to tell you what he remembers. Better yet, you tell the story. Everyone tell it. With lots of details. She felt like she had the first day of Syncopy, when she’d been desperate for them to say Ford’s name.

  As if the bright light were an eraser, Ford’s mind bounced back to the moment just before Willy mentioned the cabin. He said, “There aren’t really rumors about me being well endowed.”

  Also like that first day, Sadie wanted to strangle someone.

  Fingernails teased the back of Ford’s neck, giving Sadie goose bumps, and a familiar voice at his ear said warmly, “I’m afraid there are.”

  Ford turned and looked at Cali. Sadie was hit with a wave of desire, followed almost immediately by anger, settling into a wary mix of the two. “Hey,” he said.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Cali told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  That tipped the scale slightly toward anger. “That’s me. Predictable,” he said sarcastically. “Stuck in the past. Not moving forward.”

  “Maybe,” Cali said, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “Maybe that makes you reliable.”

  Sadie couldn’t tell if it was Cali’s words or his reactions that were confusing him, but his mind felt like it was being sloshed around.

  Cali was wearing a new perfume, which he registered negatively as cheap daisies, but she was also wearing a skimpy bikini top, which he registered positively as small.

  “You look good,” he said, wondering when Willy and Kansas had disappeared.

  About a minute ago, Sadie told him. Between “hey” and when you got lost looking at her boobs.

  “You too,” Cali said. She touched a finger to the stubble on his cheek. “I leave you for a few days and you grow a beard?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Too busy to shave? Intriguing,” she said.

  Sadie heard Ford think She’s jealous and felt his moderate surge of pleasure. Of which, since she was supposed to be objective, she could neither approve nor think was immature. “How’s it going?” Ford asked Cali.

  She let her finger rest in the indentation at the base of his neck. “It’s only been a week since we’ve talked.”

  Given the way Ford’s pulse picked up and his body tightened, Sadie thought there should be rules about how close people could stand a week after a breakup. Finger-on-the-collarbone seemed a bit too close. “Feels longer,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  Her gaze moved from her finger, up over his chin to his lips, and then met his eyes.

  Sadie heard a clarinet give an experimental blast. Ford’s eyes held hard to Cali’s. “What’s going on here?” he asked, taking the words right out of Sadie’s mouth.

  Cali exhaled deeply, and Sadie saw her chest rise and fall in Ford’s peripheral vision. “We’ve spent every Fourth of July together since we were sixteen,” she said. “It doesn’t seem right to stop now.” She took a step forward so her thigh was between his. “Does it?”

  Ford’s body thrummed like a taut vessel, sending reverberations through Sadie. “When you say ‘spend Fourth of July together,’ you mean—”

  “I want you.” Cali pressed her cleavage against his chest. “No strings.”

  Ford’s mind was spinning and his throat felt tight. “No strings,” he repeated hoarsely.

  I know the no-strings thing sounds good, Sadie told him, but statistically it’s very hard to put into practice. People who get back together with their exes in less than a year generally find themselves in the same—

  “None.” Cali ran her fingers down his arms, setting off a jingle of bells. “Just two people looking for…” Her voice trailed off.

  Trouble, Sadie finished for her. Heartache. Arguing.

  Ford still hadn’t touched her, hadn’t grabbed her, pulled her in to him, the way Sadie knew his mind was begging him to. The restraint seemed to be twisting the sinews tighter, eking out a slightly higher note from the saxophone, a more discordant shimmer from the drums.

  His mouth came within a hairbreadth of hers, but still he didn’t touch her. “Looking for what?”

  Sadie felt the heat of Cali’s body, the warmth of her breath on his cheek. “Kiss me,” Cali begged. “Please.”

  I know that seems tempting, Sadie acknowledged objectively, but the best thing for you to do right now would be to just turn and walk—

  He bent and brushed his lips gently against her, and a steaming wave of passion tore through Sadie, knocking her backward.

  CHAPTER 23

  Where should we go?” Ford breathed. His voice was raspy, the tension in his muscles heightening every sensation, like notes played on a tightly strung guitar. “I’m sure there are rooms—”

  “Let’s get away from here.” Cali’s eyes were wild, daring. Sadie wondered what it would be like to let someone see you that way and not care, not worry about getting it wrong. To feel—so much. So free. “What about that special place you were going to take me?”

  “Really?” Ford asked, and his happiness at the prospect made Sadie ache for him. He was so hungry for validation, for someone to pay attention.

  She felt a sharp pinch of envy. Cali doesn’t deserve to go there. Not her, not the first time. Take me. I love the tree house. I love—

  “I—it would be great to take you there,” Ford said, gazing at Cali with heat and longing.

  Sadie wished she could look away.

  Ford drove Cali’s car the half mile to the tree house. Tension sizzled between them as they left the bustle of the blocks around the baths and turned onto the quiet street. He made her wait while he went ahead to open the place up and get it ready. Working quickly he lit three tall tapers inside, and five hanging lanterns he’d arranged in the branches of the tree.

  He didn’t stop to glance at it, so Sadie’s first time seeing it alight was also Cali’s. Sadie felt his surge of pleasure at Cali’s reaction, which made Sadie ache in a different, confusing way.

  The tree house was beautiful, glowing golden and suspended in space. He helped Cali up the ladder and she smiled when she saw the table and chairs. “You weren’t kidding.”

  He shook his head. “I wanted to give you everything.”

  She grabed his hand, leading him to th
e rug off to one side, but he shook his head again.

  He patted the table. “We might as well get some use out of it.”

  The purr in his voice thrilled Sadie. Cali stood at the edge of the table, facing the mirror, and he moved to stand behind her. His hands roamed over her body, and Sadie reveled in the double thrill of feeling him touching her skin and the instinctive responses triggered by watching it.

  Sadie’s gaze followed his hands, tracing shoots of molten sensation around her limbs, across her hips, down the back of her thighs. Cali’s eyes closed, her head tipped back, and Sadie’s eyes moved to his face.

  This time there could be no mistake. Their eyes met with a jolt, locking together, swelling the intensity of every sensation. He looked down, and she saw his hands cupping breasts that were paler, more delicate. Mine, Sadie thought, those are mine. She looked in the mirror and he looked back, not at Cali but at her.

  Being seen by him was everything she’d imagined and more. She reached up a hand to touch his face and he kissed her fingers, then turned her toward him gently and, cradling her face in both his hands, brought his lips to hers.

  Fire ignited between them and what started as a soft gentle kiss seared through them both, destroying reason and thought. She could feel his hands all over her body, strong, confident, and her hands on his, tentative but eager.

  Her ache for him felt never-ending. It stretched and twisted, being pulled taut until there was no further for it to go, until she surrendered to it completely. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he crushed himself against her. Pleasure crashed over them, leaving them unsure if the firecrackers exploding were inside or outside their bodies.

  A moan that wasn’t either of theirs jolted them both, and Sadie realized Ford’s eyes had been closed. He opened them now and looked in the mirror. The room was the same, everything was the same, but the back he was cradling had a tattoo, and he had a feeling of disorientation, like he’d woken up in the wrong dream.

  A sharp wave of dislike hit Sadie, and she saw that he was looking at Cali. Cali gazed up at him with amazement. “How come we never did it like that when we were dating?” she asked. “I felt like you were in some whole other zone.”

  “I was,” Ford said, confused, searching the mirror for clues.

  A phone buzzed. “That’s me,” Cali said, diving for her purse. She missed the call but got the message. “I probably need to get back.”

  He sent Cali back to the party, then stood on the curb looking at the tree house and wondering what kind of magic spell he’d just been under. Amazing, he thought, turning to go.

  “Hey, Winter,” a voice called from behind him, piercing the silence. Ford turned and saw the guy in the ski mask just as the brass knuckles connected with his chin.

  • • •

  Ford’s head whipped back, and he staggered sideways, across the sidewalk, toward a vacant lot covered with gravel and rotting lumber. A sharp kick on the side of his kneecap sent him tumbling to the ground, barely missing a row of rusty nails sticking out of an old doorjamb.

  He took two breaths and pulled himself to his feet. There were no street lights, so it was pitch dark. A cut in his forehead was bleeding into his eye. “What’s this about?” he asked, turning his head in every direction, trying to make out his assailants.

  At the curb a white van was idling. See if you can get a license number, Sadie thought. Anything identifiab—

  A shiny black boot flashed out, kicking both Ford’s legs out from under him, sending him sprawling on the ground.

  Painstakingly he turned onto his side, facing the van. There was no license plate, but he thought he made out a figure inside. Was someone watching?

  “Stay away from Plum,” a voice near Ford’s ear hissed.

  Plum? Sadie thought.

  “Plum?” Ford said. The voice that had spoken was different from the one that had called his name, which meant there had to be at least two of them.

  “Yeah,” the same guy elaborated. “She doesn’t want to see any more of you. Understand?” To underscore his point, he kicked Ford in the ribs once, then again. There was a sickening cracking sound and pain so profound that Ford was beyond screaming.

  Sadie wished she could wrap herself around him to protect him, especially when the other guy said, “Do. You. Under. Stand?” punctuating each syllable with a kick to Ford’s ribcage.

  The torture shattered Ford. He curled in a ball, completely defenseless, rendered powerless by the pain. The two assailants, shiny black boots barely soiled, stood above him breathing noisily and watched for some sign of life.

  Sadie held her breath as Ford lay unmoving. His mind was showing rolling images with crackles and jumps in them, like an old-time television broadcast. Nothing was clear, dots of color jumbling together, sounds garbled.

  Please, she thought, please let him be okay.

  “He’s faking,” one of the guys said and aimed a hard kick right at Ford’s groin.

  Ford howled and writhed in pain. His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood, his head exploded with shrieks and lights, and unending agony swept over him. He sank into oblivion.

  • • •

  His eyes were still closed when Sadie regained consciousness.

  Ford, she whispered in his head. Can you move? She felt all the different nerve impulses running through him, but she knew she was only getting a fraction of his pain. It was enough.

  The wind was picking up and she could smell rain on the way. She wished she could reach across the boundaries that separated them and cradle his head. She wanted to sit him on the toilet in his bathroom and carefully clean every one of his wounds. She’d try to make him laugh as she did it, think of any stupid thing she could to distract him from the pain. She wanted to brush the hair from his forehead and gently kiss him on the lips.

  Come on, Ford, she said, putting every ounce of her mind and her will into reaching him. You can do this. You have to do this.

  Can’t… move, she heard him think.

  He was conscious, and she could hear him. Sadie gulped back a sob of relief.

  He was lying on his back in the scrappy grass of the empty lot, pieces of broken glass and debris littered around.

  Ford, you have to move. Sadie didn’t think she’d ever concentrated so hard in her life. If we stay here you’ll pass out again, and you’ll be picked up by Serenity Services. Think how upset your mother would be. And Lulu.

  “Don’t upset Lulu,” he murmured. He pushed himself up to a sitting position on his elbow. His head swam, and his stomach heaved. He was about to lie back down when he repeated, “Lulu,” and dragged himself onto all fours.

  You’re doing great, Sadie told him, not sure if he was hearing her and not caring. A section of fence still lingered along the property line, and laboriously he hauled himself up it until he was standing. Pain shot through his ankle. “Got to keep moving,” he said through clenched teeth, wavering unsteadily on his feet. “Keep mov—”

  His eyes fluttered, and his legs began to buckle at the knees.

  Ford! Sadie shouted sharply.

  His eyes snapped open and he called “Present!” like a student waking up in class.

  It had worked. It had worked. Sadie laughed, and he started to laugh too and mutter, “Present!”

  How had that happened? Was that even possible?

  Later, she told herself. Later you can think about that. Now you need to get him home.

  Somewhere to the south of them more fireworks began to pop. Clutching a decaying fence plank, he leaned out to get a view of them.

  “Pretty,” he said to no one. His eyes started to close.

  Ford! she shouted.

  “Present,” he answered again.

  Sadie remembered seeing a bus stop just beyond the next corner, but the lot between them and it was empty, and without anything to hold on to she had no idea how they’d get that far.

  Ford let go of the splintery board, took two steps unsupported, and f
ell down.

  Poor boy. Right on your caboose, Sadie commiserated.

  “Choo choo,” he said, amazing Sadie again. He had heard her. He had to have heard her.

  Later.

  Crawling on all fours, he pulled himself to the abandoned house in front of his tree house and dropped down to rest on its short stack of concrete stairs. The first drops of rain started to fall as he sat there. Propping himself on the handrail of the stairs, he stood and pushed off.

  He staggered forward and was about to go sprawling when he caught a crooked NO PARKING sign. He stood, eyes closed, hugging it, the rain stinging as it hit the cuts on his face and arms. When he opened his eyes, the corner was in sight, and the bus stop beyond it.

  Ford, you have to keep going, Sadie told him. You can do it. You can’t stop now.

  “Present,” he said, but it was more like a yawn than a word.

  I mean it, Sadie told him. You’re in a no-parking zone. Look at the sign.

  He laughed, then grimaced as a bolt of pain shot from his ribs. But he unwrapped his arms from the sign and with a supreme show of effort pushed off and made it the rest of the way to the bus stop.

  The bus came, finally, and he dragged himself on, apparently not looking much worse than the other drenched commuters because no one paid any attention. Sadie talked and told every joke she could remember to keep him alert enough to notice when they reached his stop.

  Together they counted the steps between the bus stop and his apartment, him out loud, her in his head. The two flights of stairs required the most effort, but finally, sweaty and bloody and dirty, Ford mounted the top one, scraped his key into the front-door lock, and fell face-first onto the couch. He muttered “Present” one last time before passing out.

  Sadie didn’t want to think back over the night. She lay very still, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing, letting the familiar rhythms of his body enfold her. She closed her eyes and whispered very quietly, “I love you, Ford Winter.”

  She began to sob.