“I’m for real, Wade. I’m no different with him than I was without.”
“Then that makes you an idiot.”
I wanted to scream at him. Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way. If he thought so highly of Malak-Tuke, then maybe I needed to let him believe his own words.
“Fine,” I said, my shoulders deflating. “I’m trying to save your life here, Wade. You’re right. You’ve been right all along. He’ll protect me.”
He stilled. Narrowed his eyes as though trying to decide if I was lying or not. No time like the present to see how my poker face measured up.
“If you try to hurt me in any way,” I said, inching back, insulating myself with as much distance as I could get, “he’ll rip out your jugular. You know, in case you were wondering.”
He wanted to believe me in a way. He wanted to believe Malak was that powerful, that protective, but that would mean he couldn’t kill me to get at him.
“It’s a lose–lose proposition,” I said, putting a few more inches between us. “If he won’t protect me, then what makes you think he’ll do that for you? If he will protect me, then you’ll die trying to find out. Either way, you don’t get to win this one, Wade. You just don’t.”
Anger shot through him visibly. He was torn. Neither scenario appealed to him, but one had to be true. There was no other option, and he knew it. He clenched his teeth and let a shout of frustration slip through them, punching his knees with his own fists. Unfortunately, he did not stab himself in the process.
“I guess I have to choose, then,” he said after reining in his temper. He brought up the knife, swung it back and forth in a Z shape as though demonstrating how he was going to cut me. Showing me the pattern he planned to use. “And I gotta tell ya, McAlister, I’ve wanted you dead for a really long time.”
How did I inspire such hatred in people I’d never even met?
We were far enough away from each other that I might manage a clean getaway. But I wasn’t exactly a track star. My freedom wouldn’t last long. Still, it would give me precious seconds to scream. Surely someone would hear.
I poised myself to run, bent my knees just enough to give me some leverage, when a girl stepped from the same shadows Wade had been hiding in. Dizzy with hope, I looked at him, trying not to let him know we had company just yet. Then I saw who it was and my heart sank.
No way. Kenya was with him? I closed my eyes against the disappointment. I was going to die so painfully.
No.
No, no, no.
I opened my eyes. If I was going to die, I was going to make them work for it.
A sudden surge of adrenaline catapulted me forward. I attacked Wade, caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered, using my own momentum to bring me to the ground and straddle me.
“You have spunk!” he shouted, his own adrenaline kicking in. “I like that.”
He raised the knife, and our situation mimicked his picture. Him straddling me. Stabbing me. And Kenya would stand back and enjoy the show.
Or so I thought.
I heard a sharp thud, then felt Wade go limp. He was toppling toward me when Kenya grabbed his wrist and kept the knife back protectively as he fell forward. I looked over his shoulder and realized she was holding a tree branch. She’d hit him.
We heard a male voice penetrate the darkness. “What’s going on?”
Why would she do that?
“Over here!” Kenya shouted. “A student has been attacked.”
A security guard ran up to us. “What happened?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer before calling for backup and telling the dispatcher on the other end to get the police.
When he was finished, Kenya helped him pull Wade off me.
“This guy attack you?” he asked, helping me up. His dark skin shimmered in the low light and I thought he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And he was really tall.
“Are you an angel, too?” I asked him.
Kenya glared at me.
“Not me, ma’am. Let’s get you a seat.”
“I think little Lorraine here hit her head when he knocked her to the ground,” she said.
He took Wade’s knife, then led me back to the guardhouse and sat me on the concrete slab that surrounded it. Kenya sat beside me.
“Are you kidding me?” she whispered when he went to check on Wade. “What the hell was that?”
“What? He’s really tall.”
“No, that little stunt. You were like a cyclone with arms.”
“He was going to kill me. I was going to get my punches in before he managed it.”
“You looked right at me.”
“I thought you were going to kill me, too.”
She slapped a hand over her eyes. “For the love of gravy, McAlister, what did you think I was doing when I put my finger over my mouth to silence you?”
“I thought you were coming to kill me silently.”
“I was sneaking up behind Wade,” she said, replaying the incident with her index fingers. It was very helpful. And entertaining. “You know, all stealthy like. Then you go crazy and pull some kind of karate helicopter move. He could’ve killed you!”
She was shouting now. The guard turned back to us as he zip-tied Wade’s hands behind his back.
“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking harder than I had been. I was so cold, I was losing the feeling in my lungs.
“Clearly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And now look at you. Holy cow.”