Up to Me - By M. Leighton Page 0,8

do something stupid, like ask him to stay. I push open the door and reach around to flip on the foyer light before waving back to Cash.

But what I see stops both thought and movement.

The narrow table next to the door is turned over and the lamp that sits atop it is broken. The plant stand at the corner of the living room is overturned and there's dirt and foliage all over the floor. Some pillows from the couch are scattered across the floor, two having been thrown all the way over to the door.

Marissa has been home fifteen minutes at most. What in the world could've happened in such a short amount of time?

A shiver of apprehension works its way down my spine. When fingers wind around my upper arm and jerk me backward, I open my mouth to scream, but a wide hand clamps over it before any sound emerges.

My heart springs into wild motion behind my ribs and my mind races, going back through every possible memory for any self-defense know-how. All I can think of, though, is Aim for the balls! Aim for the balls!

"Shhhh," a familiar voice hisses at my ear.

I calm immediately. It's Cash. It's Cash that's behind me, Cash that's holding me.

He releases me and steps in front of me, pulling me up against his back. "Stay close," he whispers from over his shoulder.

They'll have to peel me off your ass, mister!

All my senses are heightened by fear. The deep rumble of Cash's bike purring at the curb is an eerie backdrop for the absolute silence in the apartment. There are no other sounds. Not even those of Marissa.

Slowly, we make our way to the edge of the living room. Hyper alert, I look around, taking in even the tiniest of details. I see more signs of struggle - the lopsided position of the expensive clock on the wall, a small hole in the plaster not far from it.

I barely control a reflexive yelp when Cash's phone rings. I hear him growl as he fumbles for it in his pocket. He glances at the screen and then starts backing up, pushing me toward the front door.

He holds up his phone and I see the name on the Caller ID. My heart does a nervous little flip.

It reads "Marissa."

"Hello," he answers quietly.

Without saying another word, Cash listens for a few seconds then lowers the phone and sticks it back in his pocket.

"What? Why'd you hang up? What did she say?"

"It wasn't Marissa. Come on, we've gotta get out of here."

"Who was it then? Cash, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you when I get you someplace safe."

With that, he practically drags me back to his bike and shoves the helmet at me. I bite my tongue and push the helmet onto my head before I climb on behind Cash.

Just before we take off, though, I change my mind.

He's not going to keep me in the dark about this. We either share everything or this has to end now.

"No," I say as I start to climb right back off the bike. Cash straightens one arm in front of me to stop me. "Tell me right now what's going on or I'm getting off this bike."

In profile, there's enough light that I can see Cash's lips thin in irritation, but I don't let that intimidate me. My resolve has already hardened, like a thick icy shell.

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest.

"Fine," he snaps. "They've taken Marissa as leverage."

I gasp. "Who's they? And leverage for what?"

"The books."

"The books? I thought no one knew you had the books."

"They didn't."

"Then how did they find out?"

"The only thing I can figure is that they have an inside man at the prison, maybe someone who can listen in on my conversations with Dad. We've been careful, but...if they've been listening long enough, they could put the pieces together. And this last time I went to visit Dad, I mentioned that I'd told someone."

"Oh my God! But, why on earth would they take Marissa then?"

His pause makes me even more anxious. "I don't think they meant to take Marissa."

When the meaning behind his words sinks in, the bottom drops out of my stomach. "What?" I breathe.

"If they've been listening or watching very long at all, they