His Loyal Rebel - Debra Kayn Page 0,71

Tracy rubbed her bare arms.

"Run." She turned and smiled. "I'll race you."

"Like run-run?" Tracy frowned. "In a foot race?"

That's exactly what they needed. They both were walking around in a fog. Hit with the reality that they couldn't do anything but wait, she needed to do something. They both needed to do something.

She grabbed Tracy's hand and pulled her to the end of the alley. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced at Rick. "Are you joining us?"

Rick shook his head. She shrugged. Knowing he was anxious over how Tracy was handling everything, she decided not to press him. He'd done enough by letting them come outside.

At the gate, she stopped and turned around. There was a good one hundred and fifty feet between the two gates and all the empty space they needed.

She planted one foot in front of the other and leaned over, bracing her hands above her knee. "We'll race past Rick. The first one to touch the gate at the other end wins."

"I'm not a runner." Tracy's embarrassed laugh filled the night. "I haven't run since P.E. in high school."

Twyla looked at her. "What was that? A year ago?"

Tracy snorted. "Longer than that."

"Put everything you have into it. You run after those kids all day long. You're in better shape than I am." Twyla looked forward, narrowed her eyes, and said, "On your mark. Get set. Go!"

She burst forward, instantly realizing how awkward and stiff she'd become through the night. Her legs moved as if held down by extra weight. Her chest pounded, shocking her heart. She panted, trying to gain enough air. Pumping her arms, her muscles burned.

Without Whip, she was dying inside. Running, struggling, fighting for each step, each breath, each movement, showed her that she was alive and fighting for him to come back to her.

The soles of her Reebok's slapped the ground. Tracy, keeping pace, pushed her forward. Within yards of the gate, she kept going.

The more she ran, the more hope filled her.

She ran straight into the gate, catching herself, holding on to the metal bars to keep from falling. Tracy met the barrier beside her. Twyla sagged, out of breath, lightheaded, and sobbed in joy. She looked at Whip's sister and met her wild gaze. Understanding passed between them, and they fell into each other's arms, holding on to the optimism spilling forth.

"He's coming back," she whispered.

"He's coming back." Tracy panted. "He's too bullheaded."

She laughed through her crying. "The most stubborn man I know."

"Tougher than most men."

Agreeing with her, Twyla looped her arm around Tracy's shoulder and held her to her side. "I don't know about you, but I could drink a gallon of water. I'm so out of shape."

"That about killed me." Tracy walked with her.

"Whose stupid idea was it to run?" She hip-checked Tracy, making fun of herself. "God, I needed that."

"Me, too." Tracy stopped and looked up at Rick. "You should've raced us."

"I don't run." Rick studied the two of them. "I don't think I want to know what that was about."

Twyla looked at Tracy, sharing the moment, and laughed. "Probably not," they said in unison.

"Let's go get a drink," said Tracy.

"And sit." Twyla groaned. "My thighs are quivering."

"Mine, too."

She let go of Tracy in the hallway and fanned her overheated face. Bolstered by the boost in positive energy, she entered the clubhouse to find everyone jumping from their positions around the room. It took her three seconds to realize there was a rumble coming from in front of the building.

Tracy grabbed her hand. She squeezed, afraid of getting her hopes up.

Curley walked to the door, inched it open, and peeked out. Twyla held her breath. The noise of the new arrivals outside quieted.

Silence swept through the room. She stared at Curley's back, wanting to rush past him and look for herself, and too scared to take a step forward.

Curley slipped outside. The door closed behind him without her knowing what was happening and who had arrived. It could be a number of people coming.

During her stay at the clubhouse, hundreds of men came through the door on any given day. It could be anyone.

Several minutes passed. Back on edge, she hugged herself as Rick left Tracy's side and walked to the entrance. He went outside.

"He's going out there to see," whispered Tracy. "Whip's going to be okay."

"Yes, he is," she whispered back.

The door opened and the void filled with a tall, broad, strong, wild-looking man. She gasped, relief weakening her knees as Whip strode straight toward her