Wild Hearts Book 1: Flame
Автор
Marie Scully
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Chapter 1
DANNY
My ankle pulses in pain from where I twisted it in my escape. I rub my hand over my arm. I can still feel the fingers of the bar’s seedy manager digging into my flesh.
That was the worst bar I’d ever worked in. I really needed to make better job choices. My luck was going to run out sooner or later.
I exit the cab, throwing some of my last cash at the driver as I hurry into the train station. My eyes scan the departure schedule, wondering if I have enough money left to start over again. The only question now is where I’ll go.
Somewhere where no one knows me. Somewhere I can become someone else.
My eyes land on Lexington, Kentucky.
Perfect.
I head to the ticketing booth to buy my ticket.
I can figure out where to stay when I get there. Right now I just need to get out of here.
The train pulls into the station with a whoosh of air and an echoing horn. I pass sleeping passengers as I climb aboard and look for a seat.
You can’t always run, the voice in my head whispers.
Watch me.
I finally spot an open seat on the left beside an older woman with her book open. She appears to be in her late sixties. Her jeans are well worn, and she’s wearing a white shirt beneath her tan jacket. Her tennis shoes are smudged with dirt and starting to wear apart.
“Sorry. Do you mind if I sit next to you?” I ask.
She finishes her page before glancing up. “Of course. Take a seat.”
I put my bag on the overhead shelf and take a seat next to her. Her eyes are already back on her book. We fall into a comfortable silence as the train pulls out of the station.
The dark countryside slides past outside as the train cuts through another small town I won’t remember. The rhythm of the wheels pulls at my exhaustion, and the last thing I register before sleep claims me is the smell of coffee and old paper drifting from my seatmate before my eyes close.
***
The smoke rises, blackening the air. Mr. Peterson, the principal, stands beside me, waiting for James to come get me after I got in trouble for fighting again. It’s not my fault. The girl wouldn’t stop running her mouth, and my fist launched of its own accord.
The smoke continues to circle as the shriek of sirens grows closer.
“What’s happening over there?” Mr. Peterson asks, leading me toward the corner.
People are clustered near the entrance to the school, and I suddenly have a very bad feeling about what we’re about to see. We finally get close enough.
There’s a little black car flipped upside down and engulfed in flames. It’s almost unrecognizable, the firefighters on all sides trying to get to the person behind the wheel.
My chest tightens. I know that car.
The driver of the other car is being handcuffed.
“It’s not my fault!” he slurs. “They came out of nowhere!”
***
I wake with a gasp. I look around, trying to slow my racing heart as I remember I’m on a train heading to Kentucky.
“Bad dream, sweetie?” the woman beside me asks, setting aside her book. “I didn’t catch your name earlier. My name’s Noel.”
“Uh, Danny,” I mutter.
“Where are you headed, Danny?”
“Not sure yet,” I say with a shrug.
My answer doesn’t seem to please her as her lips press together in a disapproving line.
“I don’t like to stay in one place too long,” I say quickly, unnerved by the motherly look of disapproval in her eyes. “It keeps my life exciting. I just pick a spot on the map and go.”
“Interesting,” she says finally. “I did that myself when I was twenty-three. It was a freeing experience. Lonely but freeing. Back then, it was almost unheard of for a woman to do that on her own. I still remember the look on my parents’ faces when I told them my plans. But nothing was going to stop me. It took a few years for me to find a home. I guess you haven’t found yours yet?”
Home. What a funny word. Was it where one’s family was? Friends? Or a house or building that one slept in and came home to every night? For me, it didn’t mean anything. My home disappeared a long time ago.
“Guess not.”
“Where are you going to stay?”
I shrug one shoulder in response.
“You have a job?”
I shake my head no.
“Anyone traveling with you?”
“Just me.”
“Sounds lonely. What do you like to do for fun?”
I look away, wishing I had a book so I could avoid these uncomfortable questions. “I don’t have much time for fun. I work. Mostly in bars and restaurants.”
“You don’t look old enough to get into a bar,” Noel observes.
“I’m older than I look.”
She gives me a sad smile. “That I believe. Anyway, this might just be your lucky day. I happen to own a bar, and I’m looking for help if you’re interested.”
My eyebrows rise at her words. “I’m listening.”
She starts to tell me about her bar, the Sly Old Fox.
***
The hours fly by as Noel continues to share stories about her life. The town she lives in is called Fairmore, a small place a few hours outside of Lexington.
“So what do you think about helping out at the bar?” she asks as we near the stop at Fairmore. “I need a hard worker. Think that could be you?”
I find myself nodding. What do I have to lose? I’ll only be there for a few months, and that’ll give me time to plan my next move.
“Great,” she says as she gets to her feet. “There’s a small apartment above it, so you are welcome to rent it till you get settled. It’s not much, but I’ll give you a cheap rate.”
I laugh. “Sounds perfect actually.”
The train pulls into a small station an hour outside Fairmore, brakes screaming as it settles against the platform. I follow Noel off the train and through the crowd to the parking lot.
“Oh, Ben!” she calls, waving to a young man leaning against a light post. “You didn’t have to come and pick me up!”
“And leave you to get a car? Never.” He steps closer, kissing Noel on the cheek before glancing at me with open curiosity. “How am I supposed to win best grandson if I don’t go above and beyond?”
Noel told me about Ben on the train. He looks like he’s only a couple of years older than me. His dark hair is swept to the side, nearly falling into warm, twinkling brown eyes. His skin is clear except for a small scar just above his right eyebrow.
When he smiles—easy and confident—white teeth flash beneath it. I give him another once-over, noting that his plaid shirt does a poor job of hiding the muscle underneath. The dust clinging to his jeans and boots say hard work and rural lifestyle.
Definitely a farm boy.
“Hi,” he says, extending a hand. “I’m Ben.”
“Danny,” I mutter, shifting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder.
“Where are my manners? Let me take that for you,” he offers.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
He doesn’t push, just nods, and turns his attention back to Noel. “To be fair, I had alternative motives for being out this way. Joey skipped town, and we’re short-staffed. Was hoping to find some additional hands to help out around the farm with the big race coming up.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Noel says. “Let’s see if we can think of a few names over lunch.”
Ben’s car is an old blue pickup, the paint faded and chipped in places. I toss my bag into the bed with Noel’s as Ben hops into the driver’s seat and turns the music on as the engine roars to life.
We drive for about twenty minutes before pulling into the cracked asphalt lot of a classic American diner, all chrome trim and sun-bleached signage. Once we sit down in a booth, the attention shifts to me.
“So, Danny,” Ben says after the waitress drops off our drinks. “How’d you end up here?”
Everyone asks this. I’ve grown used to telling half truths.
“I’m from Chicago,” I say, taking a sip of my Coke. “But I’ve been a little bit of everywhere the past few years. I was leaving Georgia when I met your grandma. She offered me a job at her bar while I figure out my next move.”
My leg bounces under the table, restless.
He nods. “Grandma’s been looking for someone to help out for a while,” he says. “She’s a good judge of character, but she can be a little prickly about her bar.”
Noel huffs. “I’m sitting right here, Benjamin. I’m not prickly. I’m just selective.”
Ben silently mouths prickly, hiding his face behind his drink. I try to hide my smile but fail miserably.
Noel catches it, giving him a light smack, but there’s warmth in her eyes. It’s easy to see how close they are—how natural this back and forth is for them.
Ben turns back to me. “Do you have family back home?”
It’s not a surprising question. I’ve heard it hundreds of times before. What is surprising is how it hits me this time. The diner fades away in an instant—the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation—replaced by memories I didn’t invite but knew too well.
“No,” I finally say after a too-long silence. “How about you? You have a brother, right?”
“Yes. He’s thirteen going on thirty.” If it’s possible, his grin gets larger as he talks about his brother. “Big baseball fan, but it looks like he might have to miss this season. If I can’t find help at the ranch, he’ll have to pitch in. Lord help me.”
“Maybe I can help,” I hear myself saying. “I mean, I have some experience with horses. My fa—friend had some that he allowed me to care for at times. Maybe I can help you during the day and help out around the bar in the evenings?”
“It’s a lot of heavy lifting and early days, but I’m not about to turn away a helping hand,” Ben says. “You sure you’re up for it?”
“Yes. I’m used to early days and stronger than I look.” I look at Noel. “What do you think, Noel? Would that be okay with you?”
Noel’s face breaks into a huge grin. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said. “We can figure out the evenings I really need an extra hand at the bar, and Ben can drive you if he doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he says. “You can use one of the work trucks we have at the ranch and stay in the spare room if you want. Not that Grandma’s apartment isn’t great, but I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable at the ranch. Less mice.”
“Benjamin!”
***
After dropping Noel off at the bar, Ben drives us through the center of town, passing rows of small shops and crowded restaurants. The normalcy of it all almost lulls me into relaxing. Almost.
A man steps out of a large brick building at the end of the street. My body reacts before my mind has time to catch up. Adrenaline floods my system so fast it makes me dizzy. I can’t breathe.
I know that silhouette. I’ve memorized it without meaning to—the way he moves like he owns the world and everyone in it. My hands start to shake, fingers curling hard around the cold metal.
Ben keeps driving, unaware of my internal panic as I watch the figure grow smaller in the side mirror. He disappears, but the fear stays, coiled tight in my chest and refusing to let go.
Maybe I’m seeing things. My mind is just playing tricks on me. That’s it. I’m okay.
But my hands still tremble as the town fades away.
What if it was him?
