Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [98]
Shit!
At first, he felt very sorry for himself, but then his thoughts quickly turned to Yasmine.
She was going to get reamed.
It was time to man up.
He had to call her parents, tell them that everything was his fault. He had lied to her, he had duped her, he had seduced her, he had forced himself upon her . . .
Maybe that was too much. He didn’t want them to think he was a rapist.
He knew he probably wouldn’t even get that far. No doubt, her mother would hang up as soon as he introduced himself.
Still, he had to make the effort. Take one for the team.
Then he realized he didn’t know her landline.
The smart thing to do was just to go over to the house.
Her mother would slam the door in his face, but at least he’d make a valiant stab at being noble. But before he made his final appearance, he decided to give Yasmine one last call.
Final appearance. The thought was beyond depressing. All the vitality had suddenly drained from his body. With shaking hands, he punched in her phone number.
He heard the line connect and then he heard the phone ring.
The ringing sounded like it was underneath his feet.
He looked down.
One of the bushes was ringing?
Beyond weird.
When her phone went to her voice message, the ringing stopped.
His eye caught a flash of silver.
He bent down.
It was a phone.
Her phone.
Not only her phone but also the silver watch he had given her.
Confused and panicked, he picked up the items and stowed them in his pocket.
Did her mother catch up with her just as she was about to come inside? Did she drag her away? Did Yasmine lose her phone in the process?
He could understand her dropping the phone in the middle of the fray, but why would she lose her watch?
Standing on the sidewalk, he frantically searched in all directions for a sign of what had happened to her just as the sun rose from the horizon.
Yasmine, where the fuck are you?
Maybe he should just go over to her house and . . .
Why the hell her watch?
Be logical, idiot, he said to himself.
He thought for a few moments and kept coming to the same conclusion. She had left him her phone and her watch as a sign . . . hoping he’d find them. Her watch especially, something so cherished that she’d never let go of it voluntarily.
She was in deep trouble.
But how could a girl like Yasmine get into deep trouble?
A mugger?
A pervert?
A kidnapper?
His mind was whirling a mile a minute as his heart thumped in his chest.
And then his brain hit upon something, a micro flashback as to what brought him to Coffee Bean in the first place.
Crazy, gun-toting, asshole Dylan and his loony band of followers . . . the way Dylan had acted like he owned the fucking Starbucks, him going nose to nose with him.
But surely Yasmine wouldn’t do anything to offend him. She certainly wouldn’t face off against him.
But he couldn’t get them out of his mind . . . especially the whacko blonde that Dylan had been with . . . the look on her face the day they saw each other at the bus stop . . . the pot in her purse . . . the anger in her eyes when he had turned down getting stoned with her at her house.
What was her name?
Cam . . . Cameron. Gabe never did get her last name. She was scary-ass loco, the type of girl who’d seek revenge . . .
His throat suddenly seized up . . . what if . . .
Shit!
Think, you moron! Think!
With his heart palpitations going full force, he dropped his music folder and his instincts took over. He took off running now in boots not made for track and field.
Didn’t matter. He was galloping full force in the direction of the bus stop.
Chapter Thirty
The group was a block away from the bus stop, walking through Greendale Park and its vast copses of trees and shrubbery. There looked to be around five of them—more or less: Gabe’s thinking was still muddled. Putting on a final burst of speed, he flung himself into the tight crowd, throwing his arms around Dylan and another dude with long hair and acne, both