Fate Book

  “Dakota? Can you hear me?” Santiago snapped his fingers.

  I looked at him reluctantly, afraid he might seem all too real. But he wasn’t real. He wasn’t. “Who are you?” I hissed.

  His head drooped and his dark hair fell over his eyes. “This is never going to work.” He pushed back his hair with one hand and then looked at me; studied me, actually.

  “What?” What had he said?

  His inquisitive expression soured. “You’re a mess, that’s what I said.”

  No, he’d said this would never work. What had he meant?

  He broke eye contact, leaned forward, and nodded at my mother, who opened the passenger door.

  “Have you lost your mind? Out, young lady,” she fumed.

  Oh my God. Was everyone in on this? Had Invasion of the Body Snatchers been based on real events? Because that’s what this felt like.

  Crud. Don’t panic. I slipped from the car into the wheelchair, but my mother didn’t say another word, which meant she was beyond completely furious. Silence was reserved for only the most extreme offenses, like the time I crashed her car into the neighbor’s fence because I was late to a fund-raiser for the animal shelter.

  Santiago came around. “I’ll take her back, Mrs. Dane, and make sure she doesn’t leave this time.”

  My mother nodded and walked off, not bothering to look back at me.

  “Mom? Mom? Where are you going?” I called out but she didn’t respond, and she disappeared inside.

  I looked up at my captor, searching for some explanation, some clue about who had kidnapped my reality. But when my eyes met with his, there was a moment when something flickered in my head. A moment of recognition or a feeling, really, that I knew him from somewhere beyond just the photo. But that couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. Perhaps my mind was making up lies as a coping mechanism, trying to sort out the jumbled facts threatening to undo my sanity.

  This very bad dream was turning into a very creepy nightmare.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Santiago wheeled me back to the room, I tried to contain my fear. Although I knew none of this could be real, it sure the heck felt like it was—right down to the busy doctors, nurses, and patients going about their day, taking no notice of little old me. The only thing people seemed to notice was Mr. tall, dark, and scary-as-shit-but-handsome behind me. Every woman within eyeshot tripped over herself or stopped and stared at Santiago who, by the way, acted completely oblivious.

  He pushed me into the room and closed the door. “Put the gown back on and get back into bed,” he commanded.

  I slowly rose from the wheelchair and avoided looking at him. The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck stood straight up, as if my body instinctually knew danger was near.

  “Now,” he barked and shoved the blue gown over my shoulder.

  Did he really expect me to undress in front of him?

  “Can you turn around?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  There was no reply.

  I glanced over my shoulder, terrified to look at the man. Perhaps because he wasn’t a man, but a beast in a man’s skin. Or a demon only pretending to be human. Whatever he was, it couldn’t be the image perceived by my eyes. That image was of a guy, flesh and bone, so beautiful that I wanted to weep at his feet.

  Santiago stood watching me with a feral, dark gaze, leaning against the door, arms crossed against his broad chest.

  A deep, dark shiver quaked through me. “Who are you?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “I am your boyfriend. Says so right on Facebook. Now, dress.”

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to strip off my clothes in front of this terrifying stranger, especially given that I had nothing on under my jeans and sweatshirt.

  I stepped over to the bed and slipped in with my clothes still on. I looked up at Santiago—if that was even this guy’s name—and waited for whatever he’d do to me.

  He smiled in a displeased sort of way. “You’re not used to anyone telling you what to do, but you’ll learn.” He turned and reached for the door. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Who are you?” This time, I demanded. Where had the courage to speak to him like that come from?

  He stilled and slowly looked at me, his espresso eyes filled with a lethal tinge. “Lesson numero uno, Dakota: Don’t ask that question again. Ever.”

  “But I picked your picture off the Internet. Who—”

  He gave me a look that indicated he might hurt someone—me—if I said another word. “I’m going to say this one more time, Dakota. Just once.” He held up his index finger. “Stop asking questions. This isn’t a joke. Unless you consider death a joke. I. Am. Your. Boyfriend.”

  He left the room, but his menacing vibe stuck to my skin like campfire smoke sticks to your clothes and hair.

  Death? Had he just threatened to kill me?

  I pulled the covers up under my chin, trying not to break down while I thought through options. I could call the police, but given that everyone believed this guy was my boyfriend, I’d only look like a nut farmer. I could call Mandy and have her take me to her house where I could hide out, but I suspected Santiago would only find me and drag me back. Or I could wait until my mother returned and talk to her. Yes, she’d know what to do. I had to believe I could trust her despite her anger.

  The doctor, an older, lanky man with silver hair, entered the room and interrupted my plotting. Santiago stood next to the door, watching me with those penetrating eyes, as if warning me not to make a scene.

  “How’s the headache?” the doctor asked, flashing his penlight in my right eye.

  I nodded quickly. “Fine. Good. It’s good. Maybe just a little dizzy.” Okay. I was a lot dizzy, but I wanted to get out of there.

  The doctor pulled out my chart from a slot at the foot of the bed. “Well, it looks like you had a reaction to the medication we gave you. But your blood pressure is normal and fever is under a hundred and one. You should be released later today.”

  “What time?” I asked.

  “Not sure yet. We need to observe you for a few more hours.”

  He slipped his penlight into his pocket. “Until then, young lady, you need to get some rest.”

  “Wait.” I wanted to ask if hallucinations were a side effect or if people lost their minds after being hit by a car and telling really stupid lies at school. But the moment the word wait left my lips, Santiago’s back straightened. His eyes narrowed and drilled into me from across the room, spiking my brain with instant fear.

  “Yes?” the doctor asked.

  “I…I…” I’m afraid for my life. Somebody please help me. “I’m hungry. Can I eat something?”

  The doctor gave me a funny look. “I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring you lunch.”

  “Thanks,” I eked out.

  Santiago quietly watched as the doctor exited the room. “You heard him. Get some rest.” He walked over, and I instinctively wanted to run.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

  Could he read my thoughts? Or was he simply reacting to the terror in my eyes?

  He pushed the adjuster on the side of the bed until I was completely horizontal. “Rest,” he commanded in a deep voice that sent little pinpricks rushing through my body. I actually was sleepy, like I just might die if I didn’t close my eyes.

  Maybe just for a moment…

  After all, the man was not about to let me leave, and I needed to gather my wits.

  When I reopened my eyes, it was dark outside. How long had I slept?

  I quickly surveyed the room, hoping my jailer might be gone, but no such luck. He sat in a chair next to the door, eyes closed, arms crossed, head resting back against the peach-colored wall.

  I studied him carefully, looking for any signs of what or who he truly was.

  A ghost?

  But he was a solid mass.

  A dream?

  Nothing indicated I was still asleep. I saw only a man. R
eal, breathing, beautiful to a fault—thick lashes fanning out from his eyes, dark straight brows, a masculine jaw, and a chin with a tiny dimple. And his size, well, he certainly was no teenager. He looked to be about twenty. Perhaps as old as twenty-two. And with his lean muscular frame, he looked like he worked out. A lot.

  Ghosts don’t need to work out.

  See. That was the part that didn’t make sense. I’d made him up. I mean, yes, the photo had to come from somewhere, so the man physically existed in the world. But he was a random stranger I’d never met. So why was he sitting in my room, guarding me, and acting like he just might rip off my head if I so much as breathed the wrong way?

  Lord, the more I thought about it, the weirder and scarier the situation felt.

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  I jumped and held my hand over my heart.

  “Your mother came by earlier. She said you’ve been released.” He rose from the chair and walked over to the hook on the wall that held my purse and the clear bag that contained only my panties and bra. I hoped he didn’t notice or look at them.

  “She did? Why didn’t she wake me up?” I needed to talk to her. I needed to hear that this was all just some horrible joke.

  “She wanted you to rest. She asked me to take you home when you woke up.”

  Home. He was coming home with me? “I want to see her,” I stated quietly, trying not to provoke him.

  “She’s finishing her shift. You’ll see her later tonight.”

  To heck with provoking...Survive. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He handed me my purse and flashed a wicked little smile. “Why not?”

  Why not? Why not? Oh my. Let’s make a list. Shall we? You’re scary. And imaginary. And you’re scary. I said that already. “Because I have no idea who you are.”

  He leaned over me, placing his cheek next to mine. “Then let me fill you in,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m your boyfriend, and you love me. So don’t cause any problems, Dakota.”

  Adrenaline pumped through my muscles, urging me to run. “And if I do?”

  He ran his finger along my jaw, his rough stubble scraping against my cheek. “Do you really want to find out?”

  My stomach churned and cramped. I’d never been more frightened of anyone or anything in my entire life. “N…n…no.”

  He released a heavy breath into my ear. “Because if you challenge me, if you keep asking questions, it won’t be pretty. I know all your secrets, Dakota,” he whispered. “Every one of them. So think hard about which ones you want to get out.”

  I felt beads of sweat erupt on my forehead. “Wha…what do y…you mean?”

  He pulled back a bit, and annoyance flickered in his eyes. “You were sixteen. You took the BART train into San Francisco with Mandy. Do you want me to go on?”

  My jaw dropped. No. I didn’t. What I saw that day was horrible. We’d ditched class and snuck off to Saks in the city. As Mandy and I came around the corner, I saw my dad leaving a hotel right there in Union Square with a blond. Not my mother. He kissed her passionately, and then they went in separate directions. Mandy had been too busy staring at a passing cable car to notice, thank goodness. At first, I tried telling myself that whatever happened in my parent’s personal life didn’t affect me, but that was silly. How could I ever trust him again? My mother worshipped him—waited for months to see him while he galloped the globe on photo shoots. All the while, he cheated on her.

  Not only wouldn’t I trust him, I wouldn’t trust any man. After all, if you couldn’t trust your own father, then who? Things were never the same again between us. It was almost like he sensed that I’d discovered his secret.

  “But how do you know?” I asked Santiago. My father hadn’t seen me. I never told anyone. Ever.

  “I know everything, Dakota. The question is, do you want your mother to know everything, too?”

  Bastard. If my mother found out my dad had cheated on her, it would break her heart.

  “No,” I replied, gritting my teeth.

  “Then who am I?”

  I stared into his eyes. I had to find a way out of this. “My boyfriend.”

  “Good girl.” He grabbed my arm and helped me from the bed.

  Not knowing what else to do, I nodded cautiously and left with my captor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “How can you stand eating that shit?” Santiago stared from across our antique, country-style kitchen table. It was surreal to see such a lethal-looking man sitting in our cozy, homey kitchen. But then again, nothing about this situation fit.

  Knowing my body needed food, I forced myself to take a large bite of my microwaved veggie burger and chewed, ignoring his question. How I managed to swallow anything, I didn’t know. My stomach had been in huge knots from the moment we’d left the hospital and headed straight for my house. Yes, he knew where I lived, like he’d driven to my sandstone-colored stucco house, which looked like all the others on the block, a thousand times. He’d even pulled into my spot, right of the garage. When we got to the front door, he took out a set of keys from his pocket to open it. The guy had my house key. I immediately headed for my room, hoping I could hole up inside, but he’d grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen. “You need to eat something,” he’d scolded.

  And now, he simply stared with disgust, watching me chew, and I couldn’t help my stomach from plummeting and clenching or my hands from shaking.

  Nervous as hell, I looked up at the clock on the wall. Normally, my mother came home around midnight. It was a quarter to.

  I choked down another bite and focused my eyes on the table, avoiding eye contact. Somehow, someway I needed to figure out what I was going to do. What if this guy never left? Be brave. Be brave. Start asking questions. “Are you staying tonight?” I blurted out.

  “Are you inviting me?” he asked.

  I gasped and looked him.

  “Didn’t think so,” he responded dryly. “I plan to stay until your mother gets home. Then I have business to attend to.”

  He was going to leave? Thank God. And he had business at this hour? Probably had puppies to strangle or a bank to rob.

  I heard the front door open and then close. My mother was home. I rushed to greet her and threw my arms around her neck.

  “Dakota, why aren’t you in bed yet?” She peeled me off her. “You need to be resting.”

  “Mom, I need to tell you—”

  “Eh-hem,” Santiago appeared in the foyer behind me.

  My mother’s face lit up. “Oh, Santiago. Thank you so much for keeping an eye on Dakota.”

  Why did she trust him? What lies could he have possibly told her that would grant instant access to “the circle of trust” as De Niro would say?

  “It was my pleasure.” His smile was deceivingly warm and charming. He put his arm around me. “I’m just glad she’s all right.” He kissed the top of my head, sending tiny shivers down my spine—the bad kind.

  “Well, I’ll let you two say your good nights, but then off to bed with you.” My mother walked upstairs to her room.

  Santiago’s sweet expression soured, and he backed me into the wall with his large body. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, Dakota,” he hissed quietly in my ear, “don’t.”

  But once he was gone, there was nothing he could say that would keep me from telling her what had really happened or from asking her why she thought this guy was my boyfriend.

  He gripped my shoulders firmly, and I felt his rough whiskers scrape against my cheek. “I see that playing nice was a mistake, so let me lay out all my cards.” His voice lowered an octave, triggering my knees to tremor. “If you tell her you don’t know me, someone’s going to get hurt. And I’m not speaking about your little secret, Dakota.”

  Okay, I was wrong. There was something he could say. He could tell me again that my mother having her heart broken was the least of my worries.

  “Dakota? Do. You. Understand?”

  I nodded yes.


  “Very good. Get some rest. I’ll be back to take you to school on Monday.”

  That was in four days. Oh, thank heavens. By then I could figure out all this, couldn’t I? Yes. If he’d just leave, I would calm down and find a solution.

  I watched his large frame leave my house, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to collapse right there on the floor and cry.

  Four days. Four days, and he would be back.

  ~ ~ ~

  After a long, hot shower, my pulse began to slow to an almost normal rhythm, and I felt like I could breathe again. No, I couldn’t risk telling my mother anything, but perhaps she could tell me more about what happened after the car hit me. What had Santiago told her? If they’d only just met, why did she believe he was really my boyfriend?

  I slipped on my favorite pink nightie—the one with little black puppies—and wrapped a towel on my head. I looked in the mirror. Without a doubt, I’d been hit by a car. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a dark bruise just above my left brow.

  I slipped the neck of my gown off my shoulder and inspected the purple and black pear-shaped mark. Janice had really done this to me? I still couldn’t believe it. I mean, malicious was one thing, but murderous was in another camp altogether. Perhaps the rumors had been true; she had mental issues and had gone off her meds.

  I reached for my doorknob, planning to go find my mother, when my cell phone rang. Santiago flashed across the screen. My entire body tensed up as I thought about not answering it. But if I didn’t, would he come back to my house? He seemed like the exact kind of person who might do that.

  I answered, but didn’t say anything.

  “How are you feeling?” his voice sounded irritated.

  He wanted to know how I felt? “Terrified.”

  “You remember what I told you, right babe?”

  Babe. He called me babe. Like we were sweethearts. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.