"You called me a cab?" The car's honk accented Pharis' tone.
"Checkout's at one. I'm sure a cab's more discreet than your sis picking you up."
It'd taken a couple hours, but they were both dressed—after a few delicious failed attempts. However, Calvin was wrong if he thought it'd be this easy to get rid of her. Sure, Pharis seemed slutty, but he'd been the reason. She'd never had a one-night stand before, and he certainly wouldn't be her first.
"You could've asked," Pharis said. "Want to share it? Let's grab some breakfast."
"I can't." Calvin took her hands, staring into her eyes. "This morning made a bad situation worse. I've got business."
"What's the deal with you? You're a vigilante, right? Did they hurt your family?"
"I'm just a student, and my family's fine." Calvin opened a nightstand, removing a bible. He tore a strip out the glossary and scribbled a number. "I'm sure if you think it over, you probably won't use this…but I don't want to leave, either."
"Then don't. Let the cops handle it."
"That's how this shit started." He kissed her and opened the door, one foot out. "Sorry, long story."
"Damn it, stop with the lone wolf act! If you don't want me involved, I'm not going to be, but take a day off and explain it."
"Not today." He walked to the cab and handed the driver some bills. The driver nodded, relaxing off the horn. Calvin opened the back door, sweeping his arm. "Your limousine awaits."
Pharis considered resisting, locking the door or stomping up the street. Petulance wasn't really her style though. She trusted her skills. He'd remember the morning and come around—the sex, the connection was too good to dismiss.
"Fine, whatever." Tipping her nose in the air, she sauntered to the car. When he leaned for a goodbye kiss, Pharis punched him in the stomach, albeit lightly. "You've had enough."
She slammed the door. After everything, it sounded hollow, at best.
* * *
Jefferson Private--home to Anchorage's most fortunate, and spoiled, high school students. Pharis waited at the gate as she had ten times before. If he wouldn't return her calls, she'd track him down, one way or another.
Bingo.
A trio of girls turned the corner sharing a cigarette. Their classmates kept their distance. Bernie led the clique with cool expressions and short quips. The pair behind chattered in rapid bursts.
"Damn, not you again," Bernie said, walking past. "A rag like you should learn some sense…or we'll teach it to you."
"Why don't you? See what Calvin says." Pharis hadn't seen him the last three weeks, but she'd made progress pressing his crew, even if these girls were a bunch of bitches.
"Can't you take a hint? This is pathetic."
"Courtney's pathetic," Pharis said with a nod to the blond. "But she's wearing down Justin well enough. I have his answer if you want to trade."
"Oh my God!" Courtney nearly leapt out of her skirt. "Do it, Bernie; if she wants trouble, let her have it. I need to know what he said!" Before Bernie could speak, she turned to Pharis. "What'd he say?"
"You first."
"C'mon Court, he told us—"
"Bernie's jealous," Courtney shot her friend a dangerous glare. "Calvin hit the Baysides again yesterday morning. The Styx are next."
"Shut it!" Bernie's cheeks flushed a bright cherry. Her fists clenched. "He doesn't want her around."
"Delaney Park?" Pharis said. She'd figured out his pattern easy enough.
"Y-Yeah." Sandy's whisper cut her crew's energy to sideways glances and bitten lips. She'd never spoken to Pharis before. "Jamie and Bison are looking for payback.for what Calvin did for me."
"Sandy—"
"It's fine," she said with a weak smile. "He isn't normally this mean to girls, Pharis, but I wouldn't go after him. He's trying to protect you and us. If you really like him, you'll let him come to you."
She'd already tried that, respecting the 'three day rule' from her first call to her latest. Even after today's voicemail tirade about what an asshole he was, Calvin still hadn't responded. Accepting rejection was one thing, but being ignored wasn't something Pharis could allow.
"Justin says all you have to do is ask," she said. "His last track meet's tomorrow."
Sharp criticism and squeals of joy trailed her exit. It'd taken some creative networking, playing currier for an inter-school romance, but the last few weeks she'd learned something more important than the who, what, where and when of Calvin Cutter Winslow. She'd learned the why.
* * *
Pharis crept along High Street, clinging to shadows. Black baggy cargos hung over her legs, her vest bulky across her chest. The stunner in her pocket wasn't some lame melee model; this one shot darts. After relating bits of the story to her sister, Kara popped for the gun without argument. Not that Pharis planned on getting involved.
Calvin was a loner; even his friends called him distant. He never asked for help or advice, and rarely dropped two cents into a conversation. Courtney's description of him seemed at total odds with what she'd shared with him. Maybe that's why Bernie was so hostile; he'd given himself to Pharis in a way no one else had seen.
It wasn't the sex as much as the chemistry. He wasn't the type for a one-night fling and neither was she. Calvin would have to reject her face-to-face before she gave up. The obsession scared Pharis even as it thrilled her—she needed closure.
Saturday night, Delaney Park, the site of his last fight with the Styx.
A ring of maples encircled the plaza, their branches full, catching the moonlight. Victorian lamps created shadows on the cobblestones beneath scattered benches. A modern-art fountain spewed an endless rain of water and mist from conical tiers. A lone silhouette stood backlit by its glow, hands in his pockets. Nine thugs surrounded him at a wide berth.
"Can't believe you're this stupid, Cutter." The speaker was tall, muscular, wearing a wife-beater.
Pharis removed her stunner, dashing from one tree to another.
"And I can't believe you haven't got the message." Calvin said, swiveling his head among the gang. "Isn't Ben still in a coma?"
Ben was Sandy's rapist, the catalyst for Calvin's guerilla war on Anchorage's gangs. The scumbag was lucky he hadn't died, considering reports.
"I'm here to collect." The spokesman withdrew a pistol, aiming it steady.
"Too scared to brawl?" Calvin didn't twitch, didn't run. "That's fine, try me."
Was he insane, a death wish?
"Call it insurance. Any last words?"
"You might want to rethink your lifestyle, Jamie." Calvin said with a smirk. "Ben's hardly a worthy martyr."
"You're gunna be the martyr, bitch." Jamie closed an eye. "I'll send flowers to your funeral."
No, not Calvin.
Pharis' stunner fired with a sizzle, hitting Jamie in the thigh. He convulsed, shooting off-target, knocking a companion to the ground. Empty handed, Calvin launched himself at a burly thug, Bison, by reputation. A nearby duo looked to the shadows, to her.
A second dart from Pharis' stunner dropped one as she sprinted to Calvin's back. Scrambling atop the fountain's benched edge, a reaching hand missed her by inches. Calvin slammed his palm under Bison's chin, sending him into a dazed stumble, colliding with another.
The other thug set on Pharis was interrupted by a flurry of close-range knees and elbows. Calvin hadn't spared a glance her way. In the chaos he probably thought she was a rival gangbanger—it'd happened before.
Pharis fumbled with her stunner, reloading while hot-stepping away from a girl swinging a knife. The girl planted her fists and a boot atop the fountain's edge, a moment Pharis used to stomp her face. Knife and girl fell to the cobblestone.
Hurried splashes spun her head towards the water. An overweight biker-type huffed and puffed across the pool, his hands white-knuckled around a spiked stick. Pharis hopped back off the edge, firing into the water. The stunner's dart sparked and popped. Biker-guy twitched, grimacing, until the wire-thin line from dart to gun snapped, the plastic itself hot in her hand. Cursing, Pharis threw it into the fountain. Biker-guy snarled, shaking his head.
She saw Calvin holding his ground in a three-on-one melee. A fourth Styx leapt into the fray with a kamikaze tackle. Pharis didn't have a chance to warn him. Calvin fell hard on his side, legs wrapped.
"Pound him!" The new arrival shouted, taking a knee to his chin.
The other thugs scrambled for their weapons. One already kicked at Calvin's head and hands. Biker-guy continued his charge, roaring, club spinning overhead. Knife-chick wiped blood from her misshapen nose.
Pharis glanced side to side. The shadows were a quick dash away. Her long legs tensed to run. Calvin was lost, and if she didn't make a break for it, she'd be worse off than dead.
In her backpedaling, Pharis tripped over something, landing painfully on her wrists. Jamie was unconscious, breathing in stuttered gasps. Flat on her rear, she saw biker-guy roll over the fountain's edge. Knife-chick was on her feet. The other Styx circled Calvin, taunting. One raised a baseball bat high overhead.
This was it.
A pair of deafening booms stopped the bat in the air. The Styx as a whole paused, some jerking to a halt mid-strike. Pharis aimed the pistol across the plaza, ending at the quartet punishing Calvin. It shook in her hand, but as she rose to her feet, she supported it steady.
"Get away from him." When the only response was narrowed eyes, Pharis shouted, "Right now, Goddamn it!"
"What you gunna do, girly, kill us?" Bison said.
"Wouldn't be the first time." She forced the words through a swallow. As long as shadows concealed her eyes, maybe they'd believe it. Pharis gestured to her own pair. "Fatty and twiggy, join your buddies. Anyone runs, I shoot Jamie, then the next one."
No one disarmed, but biker-guy and knife-chick circled the fountain's front, the man taking a moment to spit on Calvin. He climbed to his feet without a sound, his face surprisingly intact. She couldn't define the look he fired her.
"You, Cutter, over here."
He limped the short distance to her side, throwing spite and venom behind him. She shoved the pistol into his hands, nearly dropping it in the exchange. The Styx looked to each other, a couple of them chuckling.
"Knew you weren't for real, and Cutter don't use guns," Bison said. "He's too pussy to seal the deal. You're both screwed."
Fire burst from the pistol's barrel. Bison collapsed, crashing face-first to stone. The shot rang in Pharis' ears. Eyes wide, she grabbed Calvin's empty hand, pulling herself close. Did he kill him?
A scream of pain pierced the gunshot's echo; the man writhed, clutching his knee. His fellow Styx gawked between him, Jamie, and the gun still aimed in their direction.
"I ain't got to kill to ruin your day," Calvin said. "Four down. Who's next?"
"You've crossed the line, Cutter." Biker-guy waved his club. "We go after your family now."
"Bullshit. You wouldn't make it across the lawn." Calvin crossed his arm around Pharis' shoulder, supporting his weight. "You got enough people standing to carry your dumbass friends. If you're lucky, I won't tell the cops where your meth-lab is. Go lick your wounds. If you bring guns next time, you'll be on the business end of them again."
With obscenities, trash-talk, and snarls of pain, the Styx collected their comrades; the one Jamie shot was already pale white. Calvin nodded to Pharis, steering her towards the shadows. His limp wasn't terrible, but she could tell he needed the help.
"I'm not gunna thank you, Pharis," was all he said.
She broke into a cold sweat, the fear finally breaking through the adrenaline. This was truly the stupidest thing she'd ever done. But did she regret it?
* * *
No motels this time. Their sanctuary tonight was a picnic table deep within Delaney Park. Calvin had worked out his limp to the point he could walk on his own; bruised, but not broken, he said. Besides some scrapes on her palms and a lingering anxiety, Pharis had escaped unscathed. In darkness, they sat side by side on the weathered wood.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Calvin said.
"You're goddamn lucky I was there."
"You don't think I expect to lose a fight now and then?"
"I've no clue, the way you act." Pharis unbuckled her vest, letting extra air into her lungs. "But I'm sure shot and dead isn't on your wish list—is it?"
"Of course not. But how do you think I'd feel seeing you raped and killed?" He wouldn't look her in the eye.
"Is that because I'm any girl, or because you give a damn? I wouldn't have tracked you down if you returned my fucking calls."
"Listen Pharis, this is my fight, and I'm not even sure why I've taken it this far, or how far I'll go. I don't need a sidekick."
"Who said anything about a sidekick? I want to be your girlfriend!"
Calvin paused, finally meeting her gaze, eyebrow raised.
"That's right, dumbass. I'm asking you out, and after this shit I'm not taking no for an answer."
"But I—"
"You what? Don't have time? Don't want me to be a target? Calvin, don't be so full of yourself. I've talked to your friends. I'm the best thing that's happened to you in months."
"Not arguing that, but—"
"Enough buts," Pharis said. "If you don't say yes, I'll just show up again--maybe next time they really will rape and kill me. Can you live with that on your conscience?"
"That's fucked up." His expression twisted as he looked back the way they came.
"Damn right it is." She had him right where she wanted him. "So do you like me or not?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." Pharis smirked, standing, walking between his knees, placing his hands on her hips.
"Then what's a guy to do," Calvin's lips turned in the barest hint of a smile. "I guess there's no other way."
"There really isn't."
"Shut up." He touched her neck and she was there.