Текст книги "The Dare"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

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Chapter Nineteen

"Are you really a chef and licensed therapist?" The agent asked.

"Yes." Grandma nodded enthusiastically. "I'm also a pilot."

"Licensed pilot?"

"Why do you keep saying license? Do I not look intelligent enough to have several talents and hobbies?"

"Why did you feel the need to get all of these… .certifications?"

"Because I know my grandsons. At one point, I figured I'd have to learn how to fight in the MMA arena, but thank heavens that didn't happen." Grandma shifted in her seat. "Besides, a good leader always knows one thing."

"What's that?"

"If you want something done, you sure as hell better do it yourself."

Jace

"If you as much as sneeze in her direction, I will stop at nothing to destroy your pitiful existence from the ground up."

The thing I should have said instead of…

"I love her."

Brett laughed. "Right. You do realize that half the world thinks you're on vacation with a new girlfriend, and the other half's convinced you're with a prostitute."

"Well, clearly, since I love her. She isn't a prostitute. Money doesn't need to exchange hands when you're in a relationship. Not that you would know that." I sneered.

"I'll expose you," Brett threatened. "After all, what type of concerned citizen would I be if I let a state senator get away with illegal prostitution?"

"Expose away. I have no secrets." I seethed feeling my control snapping, "But leave her out of this. Don't you think you've hurt her enough in the past?"

Brett's face pinched. "She told you about high school? That's kind of pathetic if you ask me. I mean, she's what, thirty? And she's upset about something that happened twelve years ago?"

"You're a bastard." I snapped "And by the way, It was me."

"You?"

"At the dance." I puffed out my chest. "Kissing her. It was me, so take your damn accusations and stuff them up your ass before I do it for you. We've been friends for an eternity, and I. love. Her. I. Choose. Her. Mind your own business before I pay a friend of a friend to cut the brakes to your car."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not. We're just joking around. You, of course, are a little drunk after all those shots…" I reached for the drink on the bar and threw it in his face. "…and a little unsteady on your feet after getting in a crazy bar fight." I punched him across the jaw and then grabbed at his shirt again, steadying his body so I could punch him again. "Am I right?"

His face turned a hundred different shades of red before he pushed against my chest.

I took a step back and smirked. "Now, you're going to either apologize or wish you had."

"I'll go ahead and take my chances." Brett cracked his knuckles and took a huge swing in my direction.

I ducked and then punched him in the face.

Hard.

"Bastard!" Brett almost fell over. "You don't even love her! You're just dating. Something doesn't add up here."

"It's serious, and I do..." my voice cracked on the lie, "I do love her."

The minute the words left my lips I felt like I'd betrayed something special between us. As if I'd somehow cheated her out of having that experience because I'd said too soon. But it wasn't as if I would ever say it to her anyway, right?

I took another sip of whiskey and grimaced as the dry liquid burned down my throat. I shouldn't have told Beth that part. I should have kept it locked up inside.

Instead, she looked like I'd just told her I wanted to set fire to Donkey and eat a puppy for dinner.

"Eat, eat!" Grandma instructed loud enough to wake up the dead.

I was surprised I hadn't broken my hand – I'd never hit a guy so hard in my entire life.

"Shrimp?" Grandma asked as Brett took a seat on the opposite side of the table a good few feet away from me.

"Sure." His eyes darted from the plate to the empty seat next to him, "Where's Paris?"

"Bathroom," I said.

While Beth said, "Puking," under her breath.

"Great."

Grandma threw a knife into the air and then chopped some mushrooms in front of us and spread them out like a fan. For being eighty-six, she had quick hands.

I hadn't asked why she was our chef for the same reason I hadn't asked why she was our therapist. She was insane. Therefore, her cooking us dinner? Yeah, it made total sense.

I half-expected her to be our guide today for the excursion and wouldn't have even blinked if she walked into our room and claimed to be the maid. Hell, if she claimed to be president of her own country, I'd just pour myself a glass of scotch and ask which one.

Brett ate a few pieces of shrimp, alternating between licking his fingers and using his tongue to mate with them.

"Is he eating it or seducing it?" Beth whispered next to me.

Ten minutes later, Brett closed his eyes and moaned as he then gripped the table with his hand.

"Orgasm via shrimp?" I concluded. "I may never eat again."

What I thought was Brett becoming aroused by shellfish was actually Brett moaning in pain. He teetered off his chair and with a thump fell to the floor.

"Holy shit, Grandma killed him." I mumbled under my breath, pushing my chair away from the table so I could go help him, or maybe just kick him while he was down. Jury was still out.

"I, uh…" Brett burped and reached for his water, "I don't feel so well."

"Are you allergic to shellfish?" Grandma asked, concern lacing her every word.

"No." he pounded his chest and burped again.

"Oh, heavens!" Grandma dropped the knife onto the table and rushed to his side. "I think you are! I think you're going into shock! Hurry! We need to get you to the hospital."

"Seriously?" He gripped the table again. "I do feel kind of hoarse."

Grandma nodded emphatically. "I'll get the manager. We'll have you in the hospital in no time!"

Amused, I watched Grandma lie her ass off as she escorted Brett to the waiting taxi. Paris came out of the bathroom in time to see the fiasco. She'd also failed to look in the mirror. White powder glowed next to her upper lip.

"Not puking, snorting. Classy woman." I took a long sip of my whiskey and watched as the night went to hell in a hand basket.

Paris swatted Brett on the back for ruining their night. Brett, having been exposed to a foreign substance he was now convinced was killing him, started having a full-blown panic attack as they rushed out the doors and into the waiting car.

Grandma waved goodbye and walked back to her station and continued chopping. No explanation. No apology. Nothing.

"So," Beth cleared her throat, "What did you give him?"

"Nothing." Grandma kept chopping.

"Don't lie."

"Grandmas never lie." She pointed the knife in Beth's direction.

I moved out of the way, which earned me a smack on the arm.

"We merely fib, or as I like to call it, frost over the truth."

"Frost over the truth?" I laughed.

"Of course. In one hand I have the truth…" She fanned out a mushroom, and pointed. "In the other hand I have the sauce. I lightly pour the sauce of the mushroom. And voilà!"

"I'm confused," Beth said.

"Can you still see the mushroom?" Grandma asked.

"Yeah."

"But you can see the sauce too."

"So?" Beth pointed at the example. "I see them both, so how is the sauce hiding anything?"

"Cloaking, my dear." Grandma scooped up the mushrooms and sauce and put them on a plate. "By the time you take a bite and discover the truth in the flavors, discover the sauce is just garlic, and the mushrooms are the food of choice, you don't care anymore. Want to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because it tastes good." Grandma winked. "Frosting the truth is just like that. It may seem devious, and it may look like something else entirely, but the minute you learn the truth, you don't care anymore, because it was staring at you," she chopped a piece of meat, "the whole damn time."

Why was she staring at me like she wanted to stab me?

I popped a mushroom in my mouth and was only slightly irritated that it was amazing.

"Now," Grandma chopped up some pork, "why don't you two order a nice bottle of wine while I finish up your main course? How does that sound?"

"Are you going to be putting drugs in our wine?" Beth asked.

"The thought briefly crossed my mind," Grandma admitted. "See? I can be honest. Now, shall we order some wine?"

"What do you say?" I nudged Beth.

She blinked a few times then shrugged. I officially hated myself. How was it possible that earlier today she was blooming into this beautiful bright woman, and now she was closed off? I'd done that to her. I'd made her doubt herself all over again.

"Are you okay?" I asked dumbly, knowing that she wasn't but wanting to hear her speak so I didn't go insane.

"I think I'm just tired." Beth forced a smile.

"Do you want to go back?" I offered.

Her body slumped even more.

Damn it, how was I ruining things even further?

"Tell you what." Desperate, I said the first thing that popped into my mind. After all, she was all about having fun, right? Not being boring anymore? "Let's eat really fast then go dancing."

"Dancing? You?" Beth's smile returned.

Only this time, I figured it was at my expense.

"Just because I'm a politician doesn't mean I can't dance."

"Oh I know that." Beth patted my hand. "I was going to say it's because you're white."

"White guys can't dance?"

"I give you Justin Timberlake." Beth nodded. "He can dance."

"The man's a god." This from Grandma.

"I can dance like Justin Timberlake," I argued.

Grandma laughed.

"Do you mind?" I glared.

She pointed her knife at me and kept chopping with her left hand.

"No, you can't, Jace. You…" She shook her head. "It wouldn't be possible. It would be unfair to humanity to give you that face and body and then the ability to move your hips seductively. Seriously, I'd have words with God."

"I hope you eat your words." I kissed her cheek.

"And if I don't?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I prayed that all the women I'd dated in college hadn't been total liars.

Chapter Twenty

"So let me get this straight. You sear the meat on both sides, and then you add the wine?"

"Yes." Grandma nodded. "It gives it that perfect moist center."

"Interesting."

Someone knocked on the glass.

The FBI agent straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. "So where were we?"

"Somewhere between drugging, dancing, and Justin Timberlake."

"This should be on YouTube."

"Oh, I just love the Tube! And the Facebook! And the Tweets!"

"Why do you keep putting the in front of those?"

"Out of respect." Grandma's eyebrow rose all the way to her hairline. "You never address the president as president."

The agent paused. "You have me there."

Beth

"Alright, let's see it," I yelled over the bumping music. I was thirty years old, had been drugged by a senile old woman, and I was at a club. Oh, and right, I had been accused of being a prostitute. Cool, I was officially living my own mid-life crisis. At least I had Thor. Then again, this could all be figment of my imagination. I could be tied to a giant computer, Matrix-style, and just making up my own dream world.

Yeah, clearly I hadn't drunk enough at dinner.

I bit down on my lip, letting the pain distract me for a brief moment while my heart stopped slamming against my chest. The last time I'd danced was at prom. No joke. I did not dance. I didn't even dance at my sister's wedding. I drank wine and hid my Kindle under the table, reading when nobody was looking. Which, newsflash: nobody had been looking, until Jace had been sent my way.

He had sauntered. You know what I mean. The saunter, also known as the sensual walk of a man who knows he's been blessed with every human gift known to humanity. Good looks, good teeth, good body. Good Thor, he'd been hot.

I'd dropped my best friend that night.

My Kindle. I'd accidently dropped it onto the floor and gaped as he held out his hand and asked if I wanted to dance. I'd said no; well, actually I'd just shaken my head and sighed, because I'd remembered him, and it was just like a fairytale. Having the prince of my dreams reach out to me, pick me out of a crowd. Yeah, I'd basked. Instead of dancing, we'd shared a few drinks, happily delivered via the Drugging Grandmother Express.

"Come on." Jace licked his lips and pulled me closer as we weaved through the crowd of happy couples.

Being this close to him was so not distracting enough to get my mind off the fact that five days from now I'd be saying goodbye to the one and only guy I was falling hard for.

Stupid Thor.

Stupid blond hair.

Abs! Curse you! I mentally shook my fist.

"Come on." Jace grabbed my hand and steered us through the crowds of people having sex on the dance floor.

I wasn't a dancer. Because dancing was just another way people could make fun of me.

Elle Goulding's "Burn" came on.

My heart thumped against my chest as Jace laughed and pulled me against his chest; the lights turned down as he twirled me around and then tugged my leg up around his waist.

Oh. My.

It was the techno-version of the song, or the club version, so it was faster than what I'd heard on the radio.

Jace released me and started dancing around me.

And I was officially in a dilemma. Either I moved and tried to dance with him, or I stared as his body moved in perfect sync with the music. I'd have words with God later about that. I mean, how is it even possible that a guy that beautiful should have everything?

The song slowed.

Jace tugged me against him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as his hands moved to my hips, helping me move with the same rhythm he was moving with. I closed my eyes and gave up.

I gave up feeling sad.

I gave up feeling embarrassed.

And danced.

Until the song changed to Jay-Z, and then I was lost all over again. I couldn't get the rhythm right.

Finally, I gave up and tried to pull away from Jace, but he pulled me back against him and whispered, "Nobody puts baby in a corner. Nobody."

I felt my grin stretch to my ears as he twirled me. Yes, twirled me to a rap song and then kept me turned around as he moved his hands against my skin. His body rocked against mine, his abs pressed against my back, his arms wrapped around me from behind. Every movement caused enough friction between us to burn the entire club down.

The song ended too soon.

Sweaty, I stepped away from Jace. "That was... nice."

"Nice?" His nostrils flared as he gripped my shoulders with his hands and licked my lower lip. He tasted like sweat and pure man. Was that my switch? A little licking, and I was ready to wrap my legs around him and yell Thor at the top of my lungs?"

"That was…" I couldn't find words. What were words again? And sentences? Nouns? Verbs? My name?

He slapped me on the backside, so hard it stung, then said, "I'll show you nice."

Two hours later.

And I was officially that girl. The one that walked barefoot back to her room and swayed on her feet from lack of hydration and too many shots.

Jace had been peer-pressure-personified. "Just one more shot. One more dance." But he'd kept smiling and looking so damn hot that I'd just nodded my head and smiled.

When that man got his mind set to something, he didn't give up easily. My night had consisted of him showing me just how nice he could be. From pushing me against a wall and dancing his way up my body to licking a shot off my stomach – something I'll take to my grave because it was both the most embarrassing and erotic thing that's ever happened in my existence – to making out with me next to the bathrooms. Apparently we had a thing for toilets flushing; it was the music of our love or something like that.

I swayed on my feet and felt a little nauseated. But not boring. Definitely not boring. Though I could really use a shower and more nice touching from Jace.

I was most likely going to regret my decisions come morning.

"I know why Grandma or our therapist, who looks scarily a lot like Grandma, made us do that exercise," Jace whispered, once we we'd both taken showers and were lying in bed.

I turned on my side to face him. "Why?"

"Because," he touched my cheek, "I memorized your body. I traced it in my mind, felt it in my hands, and when we danced… it was as if you were a part of me, an extension. Not like we were separate people, but one."

"Like a bond!" I all but shouted.

Jace burst out laughing, and wrapped his arm around my body, tugging me further into his warmth. "Yes, my little science nerd, like a bond."

"A covalent bond." I sighed happily.

"Congratulations, Beth, you're no longer chargeless."

"How do you figure?"

"Had a light bulb been touching both of us, it would have exploded."

"I think, Mr. Senator, that you just called me hot?"

"Damn right, I did." He growled, kissing my mouth. "And just so you know, getting called Mr. Senator in bed… hotter."

"Ah, so you are power-hungry."

"No," his eyes darkened, "just hungry. So. Damn. Hungry."

Was he talking about me or food?

He tugged at the strap on my Victoria Secret top and cursed. "Maybe in other circumstances… if I hadn't walked away from you."

"What do you mean?"

He slowly pulled away from me and rubbed his temples. "If we'd met again, after school, before my heart had been shattered and stomped into a million pieces. Maybe if we'd met before then… I'd have one intact. One I could give you. But I can't."

My lower lip trembled. His honesty was going to be the death of me. Funny, because in his line of work, you'd think it would be his lies.

"Which is why," he sighed and turned away from me, "I'm going to sleep. I'm going to keep my hands off and let you sleep too."

"What if I don't want the gentleman?" I asked in a hopeful whisper, my voice cracking from emotion.

"You do, Beth." He sighed heavily. "What good is the fairytale if, in the end, the girl's so broken she can't even finish the damn story?"

I took a leap of faith anyway.

And moved to straddle him. His groan was all the encouragement I needed as I tugged his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor.

"Beth, we shouldn't—"

"Shh…" I brushed a kiss across his jaw, and his grip tightened on my hips. I thought he was going to pull me against him; instead he gently lifted me off his body and sat me next to him.

Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I want to, Beth. I do, but I can't. You've had a lot to drink and it's just… that's not the fairytale you want, sweetheart."

"But I want you." I reached for him again.

He tugged me into his body and kissed my temple. "Sleep."

That was how we went to bed.

Both of us blanketed in a chilly silence. With things left unsaid. Me wanting him, him wanting me, but admitting yet again, like every other man in my existence, that although I was good, I wasn't good enough for him. Or maybe it was different with Jace. He liked me. He could give me his heart, but it seemed it had already been given very flippantly a long time ago. And I knew something about hearts, once they've claimed another as their own.

It was near impossible to forget.

My heart ached with the knowledge that it was entirely possible that each day I spent in Jace's presence was another piece of my heart he was unknowingly taking. And I was willingly giving it. Hoping that, by the end, it wouldn't destroy me.

Chapter Twenty-one

"Crackerjacks!" Grandma slammed her fist onto the table. "I'm trying to tell you a story, Gus! Stop interrupting!"

"I'm just trying to understand how their love story ends with a kidnapping, that's all, ma'am."

"No, you're frying my very last nerve, Gus, and I won't have it. I'm eighty-six, and though I look strong, it wears on me, it—"

"Ma'am?" theaAgent whispered. "Ma'am?

He slowly rose up from his chair and tapped Grandma on the shoulder.

With a snort, she opened her eyes. "Oh," she stretched, "such a good sleep. You were saying?"

Jace

"Grandma." I cleared my throat, managing to only clog it further as she held out the pencil and paper. "I still don't understand what you're asking me to do."

For the last half-hour, Grandma had lectured us on how to keep a relationship strong… in the bedroom. My ears had bled, and I'm pretty sure, given the circumstances, a few of my sperm had just given up and died.

I wouldn't blame them. I'd wished for death when she'd gone into graphic detail about her late husband, Bill. Apparently in his final years he'd gone blind in his right eye, but Grandma wanted to be sure that we understood that physical ailments should not deter us from participating in what she weirdly referred to as Charades.

What followed was an actual pie chart about erogenous zones that are awakened when other parts of the body are physically… on the injured list. Our torture in hell had ended with pictures. Not normal pictures, because that would be too easy. She erected, poor choice of words, I know, a felt storyboard that I could have sworn my Sunday School teachers used to use in order to tell us Bible stories, and then told us a story about Sad Sam and Happy Hannah, and how Sad Sam turned into a Surprised Sam when Happy Hannah learned how to take Grandma's advice.

There was a poem.

And finally a song that was sung to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

I would never eat lamb again.

I thought the torture was done, until Grandma gave us pencils and said we had a pop quiz. The questions had to be the stupidest ones I'd ever had anyone ask me, and I'd had a lot of stupid questions.It was part of the job.

"Write out your answers on this piece of paper and discuss."

"But the questions are stupid."

"So are you, and I don't go telling it to your face, now do I?"

"You have," I argued. "Twice."

"It's true," Beth chimed in.

Grandma waved me off. "Question one."

"Shit."

"How is that donkey?" Grandma sighed happily. "He's quite old, you know."

"We know." Beth sighed. "Can we just hurry and get this done? We're burning daylight, and I really need to get a tan."

"She does," I agreed. "White as a ghost."

"Yeah, throw stones in a glass house, Viagra. Let me know how that works out for you."

"Children!" Grandma clapped. "Honestly, what's wrong with you this morning?"

Beth's face fell. "Nothing, sorry, I didn't sleep well."

Was she actually pissed I hadn't made a move on her? Seriously? Did she think it was easy for me to turn around and sleep when I knew she wanted the exact opposite? I'd heard every sigh that escaped her lips, every breath she'd taken, every moan she'd made, every damn toss and turn. I'd almost slept on the floor.

I broke the pencil in half and grimaced when Grandma threw another one at my face. I barely caught it before it impaled itself in my cheek.

"Question one." Grandma sniffed. "As a child, the cartoon character you most identified with was…?"

Grumbling I wrote down my answer.

"Question two." After a teacher pause, you know the pause teachers do to make you sweat it out for a minute before they ask the next question, Grandma spoke, "Name your most secure moment as a child."

Grimacing. My pencil hovered over the paper. I honestly didn't know how to answer. My entire childhood had been based around my parents' approval. I was secure in their love – but not secure in my success. When I was six, I'd had nightmares that my dad had told me he wasn't proud of me anymore.

I scribbled down my answer and waited.

"Final question," Grandma called. "If you were a food, you would be what? And why?"

I rolled my eyes. "Is this even real or just another one of your ploys to get us to…" I shook my head, letting my voice die off.

"Aw, Jace, you scared you're going to get the wrong answer? It isn't a test," Beth joked. "Just answer the questions so we can hurry up and go."

Rolling my eyes, I answered the last question and gave Grandma my paper.

"I see." Grandma read my paper and then compared it to Beth's, which was a little humiliating.

What if her answers were better than mine? What if mine were stupid? Why the hell did I care?

"Lovely." Grandma beamed. "Just lovely. You're dismissed."

"What?" we said in unison.

"You may go." Grandma's smile widened.

"But…" I scratched my head and let out a nervous laugh, "you didn't even tell us how we did? I mean, wasn't there a point to that exercise?"

"No," Grandma took a sip of tea, "I was just curious. You know me, flighty as a seagull." She laughed. "Ta-ta. Use sunscreen!"

Beth jolted up from her seat, but I kept my eyes firmly on Grandma. Something wasn't right. She was tricking me, but I didn't know how. The longer I stared the more mischievous her smile became. And then she blew on her hand and winked.

"You're evil."

"Thank you." She beamed as the door closed behind us.

Beth was a good few feet ahead of me, making her way toward the pool.

"Slow down!" I called after her.

"Keep up," she called back.

"Can you just, I grabbed her arm, "stop for one damn second?"

She stopped walking and put her sunglasses on. Hell, did that mean she was crying?

"What's wrong with you?"

"I just want to relax in the sun. Is that so much to ask?

"Yes," I snapped. "I mean, no."

"Jace," Beth put her hands on her hips, "what do you want?"

"I want you to stop yelling. I want to stop going to therapy with a senile eighty-six year old with felt pictures. I want my life back, but I want to kiss you more. So that's what I want," I grumbled

"Your life back?"

I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. "The second part."

"A kiss?"

"I want more than a kiss, Beth. Don't you get it? I'm trying to protect you. I'm trying to do the right thing. I want you. Don't you see that I want you? Give me a reason not to want you—"

"My cartoon character was She-Ra."

"Huh?"

"I wanted to be a warrior princess."

"That doesn't help."

"I thought it would weird you out?"

"You wearing battle gear and wielding a sword?" I chuckled. "Not even close to helping."

"My most secure childhood memory was when I got second place at the science fair. My mom and dad weren't able to make it, so my grandpa came. He told me that as long as I had a heart to go along with my brain I'd turn out okay. He said hearts and brains shouldn't work separate but together." Her eyes glistened with tears. "He said I was smart, but he kissed me on the cheek and said what was more important is that he loved my heart."

I reached for her hand.

"He, uh, died the following day. Stroke."

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her head.

"And I hate vegetables." Her voice was muffled against my chest. "If I had to be one, I'd ask to be put in vegetable soup so I'd suffer a veggie death. I hate green things. I know I'm supposed to like them. I know I'm supposed to be super-healthy, but damn it, Jace, sometimes I just want a cookie!"

"I think I can do that."

"Really?" She stepped away and wiped underneath her eyes.

"Yeah." I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead again. "I'll buy you as many cookies as you want. And if your plan was to get me to fall just a little bit more for you, you succeeded."

"Oh yeah?" Beth sniffled, "Why's that?"

Grandma was a damn spy and had dug into my childhood, that's how. "I wanted to be He-Man when I was little. My most secure moment was when my dad said he was proud of me after I won Student Body President. He said all leaders should have a good head but needed to lead with their hearts first."

My hand trembled just slightly as I squeezed Beth's shoulder. "And I've been on vegetable strike since the fourth grade."

"A rebel."

"Oh yes. Every time my mom put carrots in my lunchbox, I swapped them with the girl sitting next to me. Cheetos and carrots? Same color. It helped that she was legally blind in one eye, plus she had a crush on me. I'd send her to get milk. She'd come back, and the Cheetos would be gone, leaving her with carrots. I lied for two years, Beth, I'm not proud of what I did. But sometimes a man has to do things, ugly things, to get what he wants."

"You stole cheetos from a blind girl. How does that not make the news and me walking with you into a hotel does?"

"Easy." I grinned. "You're prettier."

Beth's face reddened. "So how about that cookie?"

"How about it?" I reached for her hand and didn't let go. We fell into easy talk of She-Ra and He-Man escapades and decided that Grandma had broken laws of national security to get the information that she had. The woman had done her homework.

"Closed?" Beth pointed at the sign to one of the snack shops lining the beach. "Why is it closed?"

Why was her voice rising? And then I remembered her reaction to cookies a few days ago. The yelling, the stomping, the throwing.

"Beth, calm down. We'll find you cookies." I patted her hand.

She turned, her angry cat-eyes flashing with irritation. Holy shit. Where was Donkey when I needed a quick escape?

"Beth! Jace! Over here!" Someone or something was waving at us.

I couldn't make out faces because of the way the sun was setting. But I didn't need to make out faces. It was too late anyway. A fist came flying into my face and everything went very, very black.