Chapter 2

Zander

Friday 5.37pm

Either I’m the luckiest sonofabitch alive or the unluckiest. As she steps inside, looking around the lake house, I’m still trying to decide.

Even with the remains of makeup on her face and caked in her hair, she’s pretty. High cheekbones, pale blue eyes, long reddish blonde hair and curves in all the right places.

But if she’s telling the truth, and I have no reason to doubt her, sooner or later, someone is going to come looking for her.

I stumble to the couch and collapse on to it as my brain scrambles to catch up with this latest problem.

A monumental problem I’m in no shape to deal with right now.

My entire body is fighting against me. I can barely see straight, fatigue is pulling me under, but I can’t afford to sleep.

Not yet anyway.

She’s perched herself on the edge of the sofa opposite. Her eyes flicking around the house and back on to me.

I must look like shit because she flinches and asks the same question I avoided answering. “What happened to you?”

She doesn’t ask me where my clothes are. And I’m not about to offer up any more information than I need to.

I wince as I try to sit, ribs aching as I manage to sit, huffing and starting to sweat. “I’m going to look for clothes and pain meds,” I slur.

Her eyes stay on me, a mixture of worry and concern as she gets up too. Pain tears through me as my ribs send angry waves of torture as I take a tentative step away from the sofa.

Like she’s done it before, she shoves her shoulder under my armpit supporting me. She looks sidelong and smiles weakly. “You looked like you needed some help.”

I manage a nod then with her help cross the polished wooden flooring and walk at a snail’s pace to the back of the house.

My head is getting lighter, stars darting in front of my eyes, from pain, from lack of food and the physical exertion it took to swim here.

We make it as far as the first door before my legs give out and if she hadn’t been supporting me I would have hit the floor.

She helps me to the bed and I collapse onto it and watch the ceiling spin.

I need to eat, I need to deal with the pain, and I need to get the hell out of here before someone comes looking for her…or me.

Despite my protests, my eyes start to flicker closed, and it’s all I can do to mumble to shut the drapes, and double lock the doors.

I don’t even know if she heard me, I can’t see her, can’t hear anything but the sound of thunder getting closer.

Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I close them, lying to myself I just need a few hours rest when what I need is hope this is a safe place to hide.

I’m caught between dreaming and waking when I wake with a pounding heart to match the pounding in my skull.

The light is gone and I’m shivering in my wet towel, and she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Her brow is scrunched as she holds out her hand. “Advil. I forgot I had some in my bag. I’m Mia, by the way.”

A shallow smile tugs my lips upwards as I throw the pills in my mouth and swallow them painfully. “Nice.”

And it would be. But it can’t be. And won’t be soon as she gets picked up.

She arches an eyebrow. “It would be nicer if you quit avoiding my question.”

My eyes are struggling to focus on her face so I squeeze my eyes shut. “I need to sleep,” I say.

I’m starting to lose my battle with staying awake, but I need her to understand, so when she gets up to leave, I reach for her arm and grip it.

Her skin is soft and warm under my fingers. I blink, try to focus and infuse as much force into my voice as I can. “Don’t tell anyone you found me.”

I let my arm flop down as black starts to edge in my vision. Her voice sounds like it’s underwater. “Can you at least tell me your name?”

I relax my head into the pillow and say a name I shouldn’t before everything fades to black. “Zander.”

***

Mia

Friday 6.27pm

I sit on the bed, gawking at him as his chest rises and falls. He’s passed out again, which is making me even more concerned he’s hurt worse than I realized.

I know next to nothing about first aid, but it’s evident his ribs are hurting him, and whatever happened to him, he’s in dire need of rest.

He can’t stay wearing only a towel. Even if it’s still warm, he’s shivering.

I ease off the bed and go back out of the bedroom in search of blankets.

The lake house is as nice inside as I’d seen from my brief glimpse in the living room window.

I explore, using the excuse I need blankets and clothes for him to look in all the cupboards and drawers.

Everything is immaculate. Not an item out of place, and it’s meticulously clean with little personal adornments, almost like a show home.

The wooden flooring is polished to a shine, lights are embedded in the high beamed ceilings and tasteful furnishings fill one room after the other.

The kitchen is country style, fully equipped with a gas stove, and a pantry filled with plenty of food.

The refrigerator is empty, and as I test out the closest light switch, I see why. There’s no electricity. Which means we’re going to be shrouded in darkness very, very soon.

Zander wants me to lock the doors and pull the drapes, and I should probably be more concerned about why. He’s obviously in trouble and I helped him.

What does that make me? An accomplice?

I shake my head as I pull the living room curtains closed. This is all kinds of crazy. Mark might arrive. How the hell am I going to explain Zander to him?

I finish closing the rest of the drapes in the house, picking up a few candles, and a flashlight along the way.

When I check in the wardrobe I don’t find any clothing apart from matching toweling robes and slippers.

I peek my head inside the bedroom, listening to make sure he’s still breathing. The slightest of snores lets me know he’s still out cold.

I creep inside, direct the flashlight to the floor and stand at the foot of the bed, staring at his outline lying in bed, wondering if I should remove the wet towel.

Since I can’t see anything anyway, I place the flashlight on the ground and lean over him as I try to remove it as carefully as possible.

After a grunt from him, and several attempts to tug it free, I manage to slide it out from under him.

I head back out, grab the blankets and sheets I found, and cover him as best as I can.

By the time I’ve finished, my stomach is starting to rumble and after all the nervous energy has worn off, I’m getting tired myself.

Since the candy bar in my bag isn’t going to feed me, or him if he wakes, I head back to the kitchen and switch on the large flashlight I found.

I choose a can of soup, leaving the fancier looking items, and find a pot to heat it in.

It takes me a few seconds to work out the way the gas stove top operates, but I manage to figure it out.

There’s a microwave, but with no power it’s as useless to me as the light switches.

I stand in the kitchen, palms on the counter, staring out at the living room, as flashes of lightning appear in the gaps between the curtains.

Rain has started to patter overhead, making me more uneasy. Zander is hurt. I don’t know how bad, I still don’t know how he got hurt, or why he was swimming minus his clothes towards the lake house.

Given that there don’t appear to be any houses in the area, it’s driving me crazy not knowing.

The lake is huge. Only one side is visible from where we were filming. Had he swum across the entire thing?

I frown down at my hands. The remains of my fake blood are caked under them, and my skin feels itchy.

I saw a bathtub in the bathroom, there was even salon quality shampoo and conditioner.

But is that crossing a line? Sleeping here, helping an injured man, and borrowing a can of soup is justifiable, but washing isn’t a necessity, and I hardly want to take a bath with Zander in the next room.

With a sigh, I turn back to the stove and idly stir the tomato soup until it’s starting to bubble.

I grab a bowl and spoon and pour out half, yawns starting to overtake me as my stomach growls even louder.

I take a seat at the kitchen counter, blow on my spoon, and as I slurp the soup, try to think of what I should do next.

If, and it’s a big if, Mark returns tonight, I’m going to be here at least long enough to warrant taking a nap.

My eyes flick over my shoulder to the living room. There are two bedrooms, one Zander is in, and the other has an even bigger bed than the one Zander is on.

The sofa looks comfy enough, and since I already have a weird Goldilocks thing going on, I’m not prepared to get another bedroom messed up too.

With that in mind and reasoning the less of a footprint I make the better, I finish my soup, and tidy everything up, washing my dish under the water.

I scrub at my fingers, scraping my nails and looking around at the spotless kitchen.

The isolated location is stunning. And with the modern conveniences and a fireplace, it’s the perfect vacation spot.

If I were so inclined, I’d take this opportunity to have some fun. Open a bottle of wine, light the fire, and take a bubble bath. When a sigh slips out, I know I’m treading on thin ice. I can’t do any of those things.

Not with Zander who might wake up at any time. And not with Mark possibly on his way back.

I’m not sure if enough time has passed to try calling him again, but if I literally have five minutes of battery power, I need to make sure I time it right.

From the bus trip here, most of which I spent sleeping through, I’m certain I overheard one of the crew talking to Mark who was driving ahead halfway through the journey.

If he’s as glued to his phone as most people I know are, there’s a strong possibility he’ll switch it on and check it.

I steel myself to be let down, and walk over to where my bag is beside the sofa and the coffee table.

I unzip my bag and pull out my cell. I slump into the plush sofa and hold my breath as I press the on button.

My phone illuminates then instantly dims. It’s even lower than before. 2% remaining which means this is my last call.

I take a breath and press Mark’s number. I sit on the edge of the sofa, chewing my lip, toe-tapping as I wait for the connection to be made.

My heart starts to jump around as I hear the distant ring tone. When he answers, sounding irritated, the words release in a rush of air. “Oh thank God. Mark, it’s Mia Dylan. I’m at the lake. You left me, are you coming back?”

Mark grunts down the line. “Who? Wait….the screamer with Double D’s? You missed—what are you a moron?”

I flinch. He doesn’t even know my name. Just the size of my breasts. “I’m just about out of battery. Are you—”

Mark cuts me off. “Fuck. Look. I’m not coming back. I’ve got multiple issues I’m dealing with and a deadline. Not to mention my daughter’s birthday party. I can’t get back till Sunday.

I don’t say what I’m thinking, just repeat the last word he said in a monotone. “Sunday.”

He coughs. “Yeah. Count yourself lucky there’s somewhere to sleep or you’d be walking into town.”

My eyebrows rise as I get his meaning. He’s giving me permission to stay in the lake house.

“There’s a key in the shed hanging beside the kayaks. Jerry rents it out. Just leave it tidy and don’t use anything expensive. And don’t even think about contacting the guild. I—"

My phone beeps then I hear nothing but my own thrashing heartbeat. Anger is flooding through my veins as I toss the phone on the sofa.

“Asshole,” I spit.

I glower at the wine cabinet. “How am I to know what’s expensive?” I say as I grab a bottle. “I’m just a moron.”

With a growl, I stalk back to the kitchen and find a wine glass, a corkscrew and start looking in the walk-in pantry for frivolous things to indulge in.

If I’m getting in trouble, I may as well do it in style.