Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,37

memory of Peter’s hands on my body, and his bright green eyes twinkling down at me with laughter. I sighed to myself. Someday soon, he was going to get sick of being my own personal aide. He had to help me do everything. Sure, I enjoyed having company at times like this, but I knew he must want an equal- someone who could swim beside him or race with him through the woods, not someone he had to carry.

I made my way to the car in a quiet mood. Peter glanced at me in concern. “Is something wrong?” He asked softly. “I thought you were having fun…”

I gave him the best smile I could muster. “Of course. Thank you. Nothing’s wrong.” Except you loving me.

He didn’t seem convinced, but he did his best to pull me out of my pensive mood, cracking jokes and goofing off until I couldn’t help but smile, my fears forgotten for the time being.

*****

Sometimes I can be so trusting. So completely naive. This is partly because of the stupid brain injury, but also because I haven’t been able to live my adult life the way a normal young woman would. I went from being a teenager to being an adult treated like a teenager. Turns out Mom and Dad were right about one thing: I’m a little gullible, an easy target.

It was approaching lunchtime. The librarians had popped out for a few minutes to get food, leaving me in charge of the place for a short time. I had just finished shelving the morning’s returns when I noticed a man standing at the desk. He was wearing a navy blue button-down shirt with the logo of a delivery service stitched on the front. I wheeled around and gave him my best friendly-clerk smile. “Can I help you?”

The man returned my smile. He was in his late twenties, handsome enough, with a good-natured face and bright blue eyes; one of those people who would be hard to describe when he wasn’t standing right in front of you. He was of medium build, with that hair color that’s somewhere between brown and blond. He was very ordinary looking. Of course, that’s probably why they sent him.

“Melody Wescott? I have something for you.” He glanced down at the tablet he carried in his hand. “From a…Mr. Marcellus.” I wheeled around the desk, grinning like a child on Christmas. Peter had gotten me a present?

The man headed for the side door that led to the street, where we usually got deliveries. “It’s kind of big, so I thought you could take a look and tell me where you want it?”

I nodded and followed him out, wondering what in the world could be that large. There was a small delivery truck parked at the curb. The man went to the back of the truck and pulled up the big rolling door so I could peek inside. I maneuvered my chair over to the curb to look. My smile faded and I looked at the man, perplexed. “There’s nothing in there…”

He moved faster than thought, clamping a hand over my mouth and lifting me out of my chair. No human could be so strong. He leapt into the back of the truck before anyone could notice us. Another man came around from the front and tossed my chair inside like it weighed nothing, then closed the door with a bang, leaving us completely in the dark.

Creepy Jerk Number One let go of me, leaving me to slump on the floor while he searched for something in the dark. He finally came up with a small flashlight, which he turned on and sat on the floor. For my benefit, I was guessing, since he didn’t need light to see in the dark. Of course, I immediately started screaming for help. We were in the middle of traffic in an enclosed truck going about thirty miles an hour or so. No one heard me- and even if they did, they wouldn’t know what it was they were hearing, as travel and road noise reduced my screams to barely audible sounds.

The vampire didn’t react to my hysterics, and I eventually gave it up. My throat was sore and the blood was pounding in my head from the exertion. “Where are you taking me?”

He canted his head to the side as if studying something he had never seen before. “Does it matter?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a sharp rush of anger. “Of course it fucking