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CHAPTER 8
"Pack a bag."
Troy charges into my room with no introduction, making me jump as I flick my eyes up from my closet, trying to choose a comfortable outfit having removed my dress.
"What?" I ask, quickly grabbing a jumper dress and pulling it on to cover my semi-naked body.
"We have to get out of here," he tells me, buzzing around the room on adrenaline and checking outside my window.
"Troy, you're really scaring me, what's going on?"
He throws my suitcase onto the bed and goes around me to start filling it. "Just pack. We'll talk later."
"Talk about what? I deserve to know what's going on!"
He fills my case haphazardly in the space of ten minutes while I stand with my hands on my hips.
"Its not safe here, we have to go." He repeats.
"I don't understand…"
"Do you trust me?" he asks, holding out his hand. I flick my eyes to his and test the blue depths.
I put my hand into his palm where he closes his fingers over mine to lead me out of the room, into the long corridor and down the fire stairs, bringing us out onto the road where a car is parked.
"I'm driving," he tells me as he opens the passenger door.
I shoot him a frightened look wondering what the silent threat is. I see nothing, I know nothing, I just feel his tension and see his worry in his blue, blue eyes.
"Gabi, get in," he asks me gently and I obey, sliding into the seat and strapping on the belt, only just noticing he is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his hair covered by a baseball cap. He has changed in the ten minutes since we got back from the restaurant, where he left me in my room while he went to 'make a call.'
"Troy, I'm really scared…" I turn to him and see he is squinting into the rear mirror, then his side mirror, checking behind. I twist in the seat and see several cars behind. "Troy?"
"There's a blue SUV about five cars back." He records.
I look again, not seeing what he wants me to see. "Okay…"
"It's following us."
"Who is it?" I dash him a look.
"I don't know. I just know you're being followed."
"Oh my god," I suddenly feel faint and bend over in the seat to get some circulation.
"Look, I know a route okay?" He reaches over and touches my shoulder.
"What did I do? What did I do? Who hates me this much?" I ask myself over and over, searching for results.
"Breathe, okay?" He instructs, pressing his foot to the gas and lurching the car forward, eventually veering off to the left once we leave the city behind, taking a dirt track unseen from the road. One that bumps me and jiggles me in the seat.
"Jeez…" I frown sulkily.
"Do me a favour," he asks.
"What?"
"Call your father," he takes his phone back out of his pocket and hands it to me and I don't ask questions, I just obey, dialling his number from Troy's phone list.
"There's no answer," I tell him, confused at his instruction.
"Damn!" He sighs, hitting the steering column, making me jump.
Suddenly frightened tears lubricate my eyes, everything falling down on me so very fast as I struggle to make sense of what is happening. I've never felt so afraid before, I've never had my heart stop and beat twice as hard like it has done twenty times tonight, every second more confusing than the next, every shadow holding an unknown threat.
"Hey, Gabi, do you want me to stop?" Troy calls over the grapple of the gravel, concern laced into his voice.
I shake my head and cry into my lap, curling up in the seat away from him so that he doesn't have to see me having another major break down. The poor guy didn't sign up for hormonal waterworks as part of his job description.
"We're here," he quickly jumps out of the driver seat and runs around, unclipping my belt and lifting me into his arms with ease, striding toward a massive barn in apparently the middle of nowhere.
Inside the barn there's another vehicle- an old Lancer that looks rusty and abused.
"We're taking that?" I scoff.
"Just start her up and pull out so I can dump the Orion," he says, putting me down, throwing me the keys and I do it, too stunned to do anything else.
This is it. This is my life- spent on the run, hiding from unknown danger. I'll never see the light of day again. I'll never-
"Scoot over," Troy interrupts my thoughts.
I slide along the bench seat to comply. "Can you tell me what's going on already?"
"I told you, there's a threat…"
"I still don't know why we're running across country in this old pile of junk…"
"Hey, this is a classic," he defends testily and I nod.
"Right…"
"You have a stalker Gabi." He finally explains. "Someone who follows your every move and takes pictures- or items that you've dropped or touched and stacks them in a shrine until one day they finally snap because they can't get close enough and then they decide they want to kill you instead."
"Wow. Thanks for letting me know."
"I'm sorry…you asked…"
"I know," I sigh and blink down my lashes, hiding my eyes.
"Are you sure you can cope with this?" He prods gently.
"I just want a hug from my mom." I admit, looking to him and he flicks his eyes to mine for the smallest second.
"I understand that."
"Do you miss hugs from your mom?" I wonder.
"At times like this, yeah I kinda do," he smiles in recognition.
I nod and look out of the window, the route empty and untraced as we climb uphill, heading toward the horizon of jagged mountains.
"Where are we going?" I wonder then.
"To the cabin."
"What cabin?"
"The mountain retreat cabin. The one your dad bought two years ago when he and his friends played Poker in town."
"And he needed a cabin?"
"He's your dad!"
"He has too much money…" I mutter, folding my arms. "How much longer?"
"Two hours."
"What! Two hours? I need to pee already!"
"Then I'll stop and you can-"
"I can what! Pee behind a cactus?" I screech of our surroundings.
"It's all I can offer."
"Where's James?" I wonder as he pulls over and I screw up my face at the thought of having to pee behind a bush or prickly plant.
"He's gone." Troy states softly and I flick him a look. "No, not dead. Just gone."
"He was ratting me out," I realise grimly and Troy hands me a wad of tissues, pointing to a knarly pecan tree that died years ago and just acts as a shield now.
"Thanks," I barely grimace, taking the tissues and squatting with little grace. "You look and you die!" I call while I close my eyes and pretend no-one is here so I can actually let my bladder loose.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he mutters just loud enough so I can hear.
"You know what Troy?" I ask as I swish by him back toward the car. "You can be quite funny when you're not being all serious."
"One of us has to be serious." He argues as he follows me back, looking around to check for any activity and finding none.
"You do more than enough for us both," I assure.
"Because your parents are trusting your life in my hands." He opens the passenger door for me again, his gelled hair messed and sexy.
"Well they shouldn't." I muse. "My life is in my hands. No-one else's."
The drive is long. I get bored quickly and sing to the radio for as long as I can before playing eye spy with a reluctant Troy. Finally, after going dizzy with the round-and round- and round circles of the mountain, we pull up at a small village, ditching the car in a car lot and going on foot.
"I don't like the idea of not being able to escape…" I tell Troy nervously as he purchases groceries in bulk.
"I have another car at the cabin." He assures.
"You thought of everything."
"Pick some stuff you like," he offers and I add things to the basket, helping him carry them the mile we walk to the cabin, finally coming inside where I can dump the grocery sacks and lay out on the sofa, exhausted by the entire evening's activities.
"I have a call to make," he tells me. "I'll be right outside."
I lift my head to watch him go, seeing him wander by the lodge window as he paces with his cell phone, deep in frowning concentration.
He looks so sexy when he does that- all brooding and kissable. I wish we were back on the dance floor when everything was fun and still made sense. Unlike now, when nothing made the slightest bit of sense to me.
How long would we have to wait here, I wonder? How would they catch the stalker? Would I get blown up in a boat like in The Bodyguard? Did my stalker have my clothes? Pieces of my hair? Did they get photographs? Why would they want to destroy me? Playboy was a controversial part of my career but would anyone actually go this far to hurt me?
A million thoughts race around my mind as I try to make sense of them and another call home results in no answer once more. Where the hell are my parents? I wonder as I chew my thumb worriedly. What a time to go AWOL when I really, really need them.
And as Troy steps back into the cabin, something becomes amazingly clear to me. He gave me the perfect birthday and I didn't even thank him for it.
"Wow, what's this for?" Troy wonders of the hug I have landed on him as he came inside.
"Thank you."
"What for?" He frowns bemusedly.
"For making my birthday perfect."
"I'd hardly say that…" He amends.
"And for saving my life."
"You wouldn't have died."
"I might have if the brick got me."
"I'm just sorry your birthday was ruined," he winces, pulling away and pressing his lips together.
"It wasn't. It was amazing. So thank you."
He nods and heads for the shower, his slow, tired strides showing how the stress of the night has affected him, too.
I come out of my own shower sometime later, dressed for bed, finding him already asleep on the sofa, his adorably soft snores filling the aching silence surrounding us. He has one arm dangling down from the sofa, his body covered in only his boxers and a t-shirt, giving me a lovely view of his behind as I cover him over and rest his hand up to stop him getting pins and needles.
"Sleep tight, bodyguard," I touch his hair. "I'm glad you're ok."