Chosen Prey Page 6

  “Thank you.” Lyra returned the woman’s smile as she pulled on the door handle and pushed the car’s door open. “You don’t know how much I appreciate the ride.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Lyra climbed out and shut the car door before taking a few steps back. She slipped her arms through the handles of her backpack and hitched it up, waved goodbye, and headed straight into the store.

  It had been the kindness of strangers that had helped her get away from The People to begin with. Even then she’d been through some pretty rough times, but she’d had some help. Only this time, the cash she had in her pack was enough to help her start a new life somewhere else. She’d have to live on ramen, macaroni and cheese, and water, but she could afford to rent an apartment until she started selling her artwork again, as long as she didn’t go anyplace too expensive.

  That ruled out New York City.

  Inside the store, she grabbed a shopping basket and first thing headed for the aisle with the hair dye. She’d have to find everything to make her look like the fake ID she’d paid a lot for just in case she had to go on the run again. She’d need it to buy a ticket to board the bus.

  Lyra rushed through the store, grabbing what she needed. It didn’t take her long to choose a nice shade of red temporary hair dye and a few makeup products—she’d never been one for makeup, so that was something that had really made her look different on her ID. She found big sunglasses, a yellow tank top, and a matching pair of shorts.

  She practically ran to the back of the store and picked out a pair of jogging shoes so her old ones wouldn’t be recognized. She even remembered to snag a pair of scissors and some bubblegum. At the last minute she ran to the food section of the superstore and picked up a Danish for breakfast.

  Groaning with disappointment, she realized she was going to have to give up her backpack. She sighed. She’d had the thing since her days on the streets—it was one of her first real possessions. And it was just perfect for all of her art tools, her cell phone, and everything else she kept.

  Lyra pushed her cart to the section where the store displayed several rows of backpacks. A pink Barbie pack made her laugh as she thought about carrying that around. Yeah, no one would guess it was her, but she didn’t think she could live with a picture of a doll on a bright pink pack.

  Eventually she settled on a sturdy yellow backpack that went with her new look. Why not? It would function well for what she needed.

  As she paid for the items, her hands trembled, even though she doubted any of the cult members would be in the store at that moment. When she finished the transaction, she took her purchases into the ladies’ restroom, brushing by one shopper and entering the largest stall. Within a few minutes she’d changed into the yellow tank top and shorts and changed her shoes. Her new backpack bulged by the time she had transferred all of her clothes into it along with her other possessions. She’d have to get rid of the shoes—she just didn’t have room for those to fit. She stuffed her wad of cash and fake ID into a pocket of the pack and made sure she zipped it.

  After she peed, she came out of the stall. Thankfully, the restroom was empty. She threw away her old shoes and with a sad sigh tossed away her old pack, too.

  She placed her new pack and purchases on the floor and snatched the scissors out of the bag of purchases. Lyra grimaced as she carefully hacked off a good six inches of her hair so that she now sported a bob instead of having it a little over shoulder-length. Just as she tossed the hair into the garbage, a woman with two children came into the restroom and Lyra jumped. The woman was too busy with the toddlers to even notice Lyra.

  Still, she chose to work on her makeup first before she would dye her hair. She applied a thick layer of foundation, a heavy dose of blush, and used blue eye shadow, black mascara, and red lipstick. One thing she’d learned was that she was probably least likely to draw the cult’s attention by dressing in loud colors and wearing bright makeup, because they’d expect her to be subdued like she’d always been.

  When she was finished applying the makeup, the woman came out of the large stall with her children, washed her hands and her children’s without looking at Lyra. Finally, the woman left with her kids and Lyra skimmed through the directions on the bottle of hair dye.

  If she didn’t want any stains, she’d need to protect her hands and her neck. She dragged one of her old T-shirts out of her backpack to put around her neck to keep the dye from getting on her tank top. Then she emptied out the two shopping bags, jamming the makeup and scissors into her backpack, but left the sunglasses out on the shelf on the countertop beside the sink.

  Lyra wrapped her hands in the now-empty plastic shopping bags, grabbed the bottle of dye, leaned over the sink, and poured the entire contents of the bottle over her hair. With her hands covered by the bags, she managed to work the dye through her hair. Someone came into the bathroom while Lyra was rinsing the excess out, but she didn’t look up and prayed it wasn’t a store employee.

  After she rinsed her hair, Lyra threw away the bags and dye bottle. She rubbed the T-shirt that had been around her neck over her hair to get out most of the water and any remnants of the dye. She wiped up the mess on the countertop, then tossed the T-shirt. An elderly woman came out of a stall and gave Lyra an odd look but just washed her hands and dried them beneath the hand dryer.

  Thank goodness there was a dryer. When the lady left, Lyra twisted the metal nozzle so that the air would blow upward instead of down and proceeded to dry her hair the best she could.

  Finally finished, she took a deep breath, turned, and looked into the mirror.

  As she’d expected, a virtual stranger looked back at her. Her red hair fell in a smooth, if not a little uneven, cap down to chin-level. Her makeup was bold and her clothing bright. She picked up the pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. Dang, even she wouldn’t be able to recognize herself.

  One more thing would help alter her appearance. She dug a pair of socks out of her bag and padded each cup of her bra. She smiled when she looked at her reflection again. Now those were a pair of breasts. She unwrapped a piece of bubblegum, popped it in her mouth, and started chewing. Ewwww. Talk about too much sugar, and the watermelon flavor—ick. But she continued to chew it with her mouth open until the sugar dissolved and she was able to blow bubbles.

  She dropped the rest of the gum into her backpack and slung the pack over her shoulder. She hoped no one would think she was stealing anything. At least she had the receipt to prove she’d purchased everything in the backpack and what she was wearing.

  Lyra straightened her posture, took a deep breath, smacked her bubblegum, and walked out of the bathroom, her chin tilted up. Like she’d expected, no one paid attention to her—the place was too busy with people coming and going. The loud chatter of voices rang in her ears.

  When she stepped outside the automatic doors, sunshine warmed her face and she smiled. A new look brought on a feeling of self-confidence she hadn’t had before. From behind her sunglasses she scanned the crowd, looking for a likely candidate to give her a ride to the bus stop.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted a black SUV, and her heart stuttered. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was Dare’s vehicle.

  It was.

  Damn it.

  How had he found her? He must have followed her from Tombstone.

  Lyra didn’t look his way, just blew another huge pink bubble and let it pop over her mouth and the tip of her nose. When she spotted an elderly woman, Lyra sucked the bubble back in, forced a smile, and strode into the parking lot with as much confidence as she could. The entire time she walked toward the woman, Lyra felt prickles up and down her spine as if Dare were looking right at her.

  She reached the woman and clenched her new backpack tighter in one arm. She gave the woman a little wave with her free hand and made her smile brighter. “By any chance could I get a ride to the bus stop? If it’s not out of your way?”

  The woman studied Lyra for
a moment with keen blue eyes. “All right,” the woman finally said. “Just as soon as I get my bags in the trunk.”

  “Thanks.” Lyra kept her smile cheerful, but her body vibrated with tension as she chatted and helped the woman load her purchases into the back of the green sedan. When they were ready to take off, Lyra climbed into the passenger seat clutching her backpack. Not once had she looked Dare’s way.

  Why was he following her, anyway? He couldn’t help her. He was a stranger, and she really had no clue why he seemed to want to protect her. She could take care of herself.

  And if she could get out of this parking lot without the cowboy PI recognizing her, that would just prove herself even more.

  * * *

  Dare glanced at his watch, then back to the entrance of the store. He’d seen Lyra go in a good twenty minutes earlier. What was taking her so long? He hadn’t followed her in, afraid he’d lose her in the big store and she’d be out of there before he had a chance to track her down.

  Instead, he watched the entrance, waiting for her to reappear. Countless people walked in and out of the store, and his practiced eye swept over each and every one of them. Once he saw a blond woman with a similar build and height as Lyra, but then he got a good look at her and shook his head.

  Dare watched mothers with toddlers in tow, boys with pants so big and long the hems were ragged, and teenage girls with skirts that were way too short.

  He’d sure never let his teenage daughters dress like that if he had any. If he ever found a woman to settle down with. For some reason his thoughts turned to Lyra and he imagined she’d make a great mother and wife. He shook his head. Where did that thought come from?

  Another mother holding the hands of small children, one on either side of her, walked out of the store.

  The mother was followed by a redhead wearing bright yellow clothing and large sunglasses. The woman had generous breasts and long legs and blew big bubbles with her chewing gum. She paused before continuing after the mother of the toddlers.

  Next a young woman with huge boobs and a tiny waist came out arm-in-arm with an older man who had silver-gray hair and a crisp shirt and slacks. She paused to kiss him on the lips, laughed like a schoolgirl, and they continued walking across the lot. Looked like someone had a sugar daddy.

  For some reason Dare’s attention was drawn to the redhead, who had stopped to help an elderly woman load her trunk with her purchases. The redhead had a bright yellow backpack slung over her shoulder. He glanced at the front doors of the store before looking back at the redhead. He caught sight of her smile as she talked with the woman.

  In that instant he knew it was Lyra. No one had a smile as beautiful as hers.

  Dare shook his head and couldn’t help a grin of his own. Clever girl. He had come so close to not recognizing her. Hell, she’d even made her boobs look bigger.

  The green sedan pulled out of its parking space. Dare waited until the car was almost out of sight before bringing his SUV around to follow it. If Lyra had spotted him, she’d be on the watch for him if he came too close.

  Regardless if he couldn’t keep up, he was pretty sure where she was headed now that she’d changed her appearance.

  * * *

  After sucking in a deep breath, Lyra tried to relax. She glanced at the side-view mirror and smiled when she saw Dare’s SUV still parked near the entrance of the store. Ha. She’d fooled even him.

  Feeling a little lighter at heart—yet at the same time somehow disappointed—Lyra did her best to be talkative. The woman seemed a little tense at first but gradually warmed to Lyra on the short ride to the bus stop. This time Lyra didn’t ask if she could help pay for gas. After she climbed out of the car, before she closed the sedan’s door, she dug in her pack and found a five-dollar bill.

  She tossed it on the car seat and said, “Thank you.”

  The woman protested, but Lyra closed the door, smiled, and waved before striding around the corner of the building. She opened a glass door and walked into the small bus station.

  Lyra hugged the backpack to her chest using one arm as she stood in the short line to get her bus ticket. With her free hand she opened one of the zippered pockets just enough to dig out more cash for the ticket and to grab her ID before zipping the pocket back up again. Trying to relax was futile as she stood in line waiting for her turn. She casually looked around the lobby of the bus station. No sign of any of The People. She kept her sunglasses on in case.

  Still, she felt like something was crawling up her spine.

  When she purchased her ticket to Phoenix, the clerk only casually looked from Lyra’s ID to her face before taking her cash and handing her the ticket.

  She left the air-conditioned chill of the bus station lobby to enter the July sunshine and sat on a sun-warmed bench to wait for the bus. The green bench smelled like it had been newly painted. Between that and the exhaust from passing cars, she got a headache.

  While she waited she could eat her Danish and have time to make the calls she had needed to make since last night. She slipped her hand into her pack, felt around, and grabbed the plastic-wrapped apple Danish. After setting her pack on the bench beside her, she opened the package to eat her breakfast. She managed to keep her fingers from getting sticky and got up to toss the wrapper into a nearby garbage can.

  A droplet of sweat rolled down her neck and between her sock-enhanced breasts from the heat, and her hair started to stick to her moist forehead. Sierra Vista was a few degrees warmer than Bisbee.

  She gave a wry smile. But it's a dry heat.

  Lyra plopped back onto the bench and reached into her backpack for her cell phone to make her calls to Becca and her other friends. Her grip on her pack slipped. All of her art tools and the small treasured tin she’d made from her artwork tumbled out and onto the concrete.

  “Crap.” The friggin’ Velcro hadn’t held on one of the side pockets. Lyra scooted off the bench, bent down to pick up the tin and the few tools she used for her metalwork, and stuffed them back into the pack—this time inside.

  She stood and had started to sling her pack over her shoulder when a large hand caught her by her upper arm.

  Lyra went rigid as she was jerked against a hard, wiry body.

  A sick feeling dropped to her belly as Mark said close to her ear, “It’s about fucking time, Lyra.’’

  6

  “Let. Me. Go.” Lyra punctuated every word while trying to keep her tone controlled. “I’ll scream so loud everyone on the block will hear me.”

  Mark pressed something hard and small against her lower back. Her heart slammed against her breastbone. Chills scrabbled up and down her spine, more intense this time than when she thought she was being watched earlier.

  “I’ve had men waiting at every bus stop in the county,” he continued. “Wouldn’t have recognized you if you hadn’t dropped that tin out of your backpack.” He moved his hand from her arm to slip into her short hair, and his breath warmed her ear as he moved his lips closer. Her skin crawled. “Wonder what Neal will think of your new look. I’m pretty sure he won’t be too happy, and you’ll probably get your ass whipped for it.”

  Heat bubbled up inside her and she started to shake. Not only did fear course through her body, but she felt hot, raging fury at the man behind her, along with anger at her own stupidity.

  “Come on.” Adam moved into her line of vision and she saw that he was pretty banged up. Probably from the fight with Dare. Adam’s gaze darted from side to side. “We’ve gotta get her out of here.”

  She didn’t want to die, but would that be preferable to returning to Neal?

  No. She’d get away from them. She’d change her appearance again. Shave her head even. One way or another, she’d escape and stay out of their reach.

  Mark moved his arm down to her shoulder and kept his body close and what she assumed was a gun between them.

  Heart pounding and mind racing, Lyra clenched the handle of her pack and walked with rigid steps around
the corner of the building. The moment they moved into the deserted parking lot and stood beside the van, Lyra kicked her heel against Mark’s shin as hard as she could. She caught him by surprise and whirled away from his grip.

  She went stone cold and absolutely still when she saw Mark pointing a gun at her, his bruised face purple with anger.

  “I don’t care if you live or die,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Confusion flowed through Lyra and she blinked. Wasn’t he one of the stupid believers? He was one of the very few who knew about the Prophecy—at least that had been the case when she lived in the Temple. Why would he want to kill her now?

  “Mark,” came Adam’s concerned tone. “Just get her into the van.”

  “Adam, this Prophecy crap is crazy. You know it.” Lyra backed up against the van door, her eyes on the gun. “Tell Mark to let me go.”

  A black blur whirled in front of her as a man rammed his booted foot against Mark’s gun hand.

  The gun went flying, landed on the asphalt, and skittered across its surface.

  Relief shot through her. Dare.

  Fury rode Dare like a mustang fighting for his territory. Dare plowed his fist into Mark’s jaw. The man’s head snapped to the side. Dare swung his leg out and swept Mark’s legs out from beneath him so that the bastard fell hard onto the asphalt.

  Goddamnit. If Dare hadn’t been caught in a clog in traffic caused by an accident on his way here, he would have had Lyra before any of this happened.

  The other man, called Adam, jumped onto Dare’s back. In a quick movement, Dare flipped Adam over his shoulder. The man landed on his back with a grunt of pain.

  At the same time, Lyra had dropped her pack and bolted across the asphalt for Mark’s gun.

  Mark scrambled to his feet and dove for Lyra.

  She cried out as he caught her by the ankles and brought her down hard on her belly and chest. Her sunglasses went flying and she spit out her bubblegum.

  Lyra stretched her fingers just far enough that she grasped the butt of the handgun. Mark grabbed her by her waist, drawing her closer to him.