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Chapter Thirteen


They went jogging again the next morning, despite Avery’s grumbling. Nick ran on ahead and stopped periodically until she caught up this time, rather than running circles around her. He kind of hoped she’d tell him to go on and complete his run without her, but she kept lomping up after long periods of time, again and again, always full of complaints while she had him within earshot. He made a point of taking off before she could tell him they were headed back. He was determined to do the whole loop.

They’d been at it for over an hour by the time they made it to the intersection where the General Store was, about halfway through the run. Nick was standing by a telephone pole on the side of the road, waiting for Avery to catch up, reading several notices that had been stapled to the wood. He pointed to a bright blue page as she came running toward him, breathing with a slight wheeze to her inhales. “There’s a party tonight,” he said. “At the Barn. What’s that? Is that like a club?”

Avery was clutching her knees, squatted down almost to the ground. “Literally… a barn…” she gasped.

Nick turned back to the page, reading it over carefully. “Says there’s live music, though.”

“Banjos…” Avery choked the words out, “Harmonica… Lame…”

Nick shrugged, “Can’t be anymore lame than sitting ‘round the house or whatever,” he said.

Avery didn’t reply. She felt like she could see stars.

“We should go,” he said. “It’s tonight.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun,” he chided her.

“No,” she answered, “It won’t… and if it is, then we’ll never know, because we’re not going.”

Nick pulled the page off the telephone pole, folding it and putting it in his pocket, deciding he’d figure out a way to get her to go. He looked at Avery. “You gonna make it?” he asked with a chuckle.

She shook her head more and reached out a hand as she keeled onto the grass that ran alongside the road. “Jesus Christ, you and your jogging is gonna be the death of me,” she announced, spreading out on the grass.

“You need water,” Nick suggested.

“Oh if that’s all I need, then let me just dig a well,” she said sarcastically.

Nick looked around, “The general store’s right there. I’ll go get’cha water,” he said, and before she could say no, he jogged off toward the store.

Avery started to struggle to sit up, but her stomach ached from the running and she dropped back onto the grass. “Fuck it,” she mumbled, “If he runs away I wouldn’t be able to catch him anyways.” She closed her eyes.

She promised herself she’d join a gym when she and Marty got to Paris or Spain or Austria or wherever the hell they ended up.

Meanwhile, Nick climbed the steps into La Motte General Store and once again the door jingled as he entered. Mr. Jones was sitting behind the counter this time. He looked up as Nick walked in. “Mornin’ son,” he said. “Just doin’ my crossword puzzle,” he said. “Only thing the paper’s good for.” He waved the page.

“I’m terrible at those things,” Nick said. “I usually just read the funnies.” He opened a cooler and pulled out two bottles of Poland Springs water, dropping a five dollar bill onto the counter by the register.

Mr. Jones slowly rang up the waters and gave Nick his change. “I ain’t much good at ‘em myself, a lot of pop culture references I don’t know a lick about. New fangled stuff. Music and movies I ain’t seen.” He shook his head, “Culture ain’t what it was back in the day, you know.”

Nick cracked open the lid on one of the waters and took a sip. “What kinda questions you stumped on?”

“Actor who portrayed Edward Scissorhands, film.”

“Johnny Depp.”

“What’s that?”

“Depp,” Nick replied. “D - E - P - P.”

“D… E... Why look’er there. You’re good at this. How about singer who kissed a girl?” he asked eagerly.

“Katy Perry,” Nick supplied. He paused and reached in his pocket for the flyer about the party at the Barn. He put it on the counter. “Thinkin’ of takin’ Avery to this tonight. These things any good?”

He squinted at the page then shrugged, “Bah. Them shindigs. Dancing, music, them little hotdogs,” he said, holding up his hand to indicate a cocktail weenie. Nick realized as he said the words that the man kind of reminded him of Jon Lithgow in Footloose.

Only about a million times older.

Like if Footloose had been filmed in the time of the dinosaurs.

“Not a fan of dancing, huh?” Nick asked.

“No, no, I used to love it,” he said, “‘fore I had this trick hip o’ mine,” he added with a frown.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Nick replied. He paused. “So… these shindigs, they’re fun? For.. you know.. younger… uh, folks…?”

“Better than sittin’ ‘round all night,” Mr. Jones answered with a shrug, turning back to his crossword puzzle.

Nick nodded, “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Thanks. Look, I gotta go, Avery’s waitin’ for me.” He hoped she hadn’t, like, passed out or something by now.

As he headed for the door, Mr. Jones called out, “Rick Grimes’ Deputy?”

“Shane,” Nick replied as the door jingled and he stepped back outside, folding the flyer back into his pocket.





Megan had fallen asleep, waiting for Marty to come back. She hadn’t even realized so much time had passed - but it was well beyond midnight when the hotel room door slammed open. Megan awoke with a start, sitting up just as the light turned on and she found herself face-to-face with a gun. “Don’t move,” snapped a voice. Megan was still blinking away the sleepiness. She stared past the gun at the man holding it up - a police officer. “Are you Megan Stern?”

She nodded.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he said. Another officer came up behind him, pulling handcuffs from his belt as he approached her. “Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Please stand up, miss.”

Her heart pounding a hundred thousand miles an hour as she crawled out of the bed. “What did I do?” she choked out.

“You’re under arrest for the suspected involvement in the kidnapping of Nick Carter,” the officer with the handcuffs answered as he closed the first cuff around her wrist.

“What?” Megan struggled as he clamped the second cuff, “What are you talking about? I’m not involved in anything!” She panicked, she wondered if someone had overheard her and Marty talking about Nick Carter before, when they’d been watching the TV. That was the only explanation, she thought. “We were just watching the news, we were just talking about the news,” she started to cry.

“We received a ransom email from an IP address that matches your wireless phone,” the officer with the gun said, lowering his weapon now that she was cuffed.

“What? No,” she said, “I didn’t send any emails.”

The officers didn’t seem to listen as they led her toward the door. She felt panic rise up in her throat, nearly strangling her. Her mind raced over who could possibly have overheard her and Marty talking about Nick Carter, who could’ve thought they were doing anything other than talking about a current news story, why the police would think that a ransom note had been sent from her phone…

Marty.

Her mind clicked with realization.





Nick stared at himself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror and cleared his throat. He’d slicked his hair back real classy like and put on the nicest shirt he’d brought along with him to the safe house. Smoothing the front of the plaid button up shirt, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door, peeking each direction up and down the hallway. He could hear Avery humming in the kitchen as she pieced together whatever food she was making.

His plan very much depended upon her not knowing he was leaving until he’d already gone.

If he asked, she’d just say no.

Nick crept down the hallway until he reached the foyer. He peered around the hallway’s opening, into the kitchen, waiting until she turned away. The moment she did, he moved quickly to the door, turned the knob with skills learned back in the day, when him and AJ were always sneaking out of hotel rooms to go meet groupies in the lobby. Without a sound made, he’d managed to get himself out onto the porch, and he carefully held onto the rusty string on the screen door to keep it from creaking. He closed the door carefully, even more so than he’d opened it, and then, satisfied that Avery was appropriately out of earshot, he ran like a bat out of hell across the lawn, headed for the party.





“Nick… Food!” Avery called down the hallway. She wiped her palms on her thighs and shuffled the vegetables she’d cooked for the stir fry around in the pan to keep them warm. She sipped a glass of wine, then pulled two plates from the cupboard and set them on the table. When she’d finished putting out the silverware and put down a hot plate and the veggies were starting to cool, she wondered what the hell was taking him so long... “Nick!” she yelled again, “Food!”

So far, the response to this call had been basically instantaneous. She raised an eyebrow when, after several long moments passed, and he still hadn’t come.

“Nick, what the hell?” She grumbled, heading down the hall to the door, “Are you like asleep or something?” She slapped the door with her palm a couple times, but there was still no response from inside. “Nick?” She pushed the door open.

On the bed lay the flyer for the dance at the barn.

“Motherfuck,” she groaned.





Avery slowed the truck as she neared the barn. It looked the same as it always had every other time she’d been on the island for the monthly dance party here. Christmas lights strung around the yard, hung from the so-called cafe to the barn itself, glowing like stars or fireflies hanging over the empty driveway, full of people talking, holding cans of soda plucked from a giant metal tub of half-melted ice. A couple young girls with violins, a guy with a banjo and harmonica mouth piece, and a woman with a keyboard that looked like something hot off the shelves of Walmart sat on the porch, speakers aimed to the driveway, playing something close to country renditions of 80s songs. As Avery parked on the side of the road, right behind Billy’s empty police cruiser, they were twanging their way through a barely recognizable rendition of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.

Nick was surrounded by people.

Her stomach quivered as she made her way through them to him, wondering if any of them had recognized him, if they’d told him that he was missing... But when she finally broke through the crowd, she found Nick and Billy sitting at a patio table, arm wrestling. Nick’s tongue was clamped between his teeth in concentration as Billy’s wrist shook with the strain of resisting Nick’s pushes. Avery stared at their fists a moment. “Hey,” she said slowly, and they both looked up, causing Billy to lose as Nick slammed his hand to the table top.

“Hey,” Nick said.

“Do over!” Billy said, “I was distracted.”

Nick shook his head, “No, no. I ain’t crazy.” He laughed, “I’m quittin’ while I’m ahead, dawg.” He looked up at Avery, a grin on his face. “You, baby, are my lucky charm.” He winked, standing up and sliding an arm over Avery’s shoulders.

Nick’s arm was strange and heavy over her shoulders and she looked up at him in surprise. Was he drunk or something, she wondered, and she was about to ask what the fuck was up with him, when Billy interrupted her thoughts, saying, “Your fiance ain’t so bad, Ave.”

Nick grinned down at her. “See, baby, they like the Chad.”

Avery gave a forced smile to him, then turned to Billy and said, “Yeah, the Chad is great. C’mere Chad, we need to talk a second.” She grabbed onto his arm and pulled him away from the group of guys, who slapped him on the back and congratulated him on beating Billy as they passed through.

“Ain’t nobody ever beats Billy I reckon,” one guy drawled as he grinned, “Though I’d like ter see ya tryin’ beat ‘im at a target practice, ain’t nobody got a eye for shootin’ like Billy does.”

Nick laughed.

Avery pulled him around the corner of the barn into the dark outside of the glow of the string lights and the hum of the chatter and music. Nick grinned at her as she yanked his arm off her shoulders and dropped it to his side. “What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded.

Nick’s smile hadn’t faded the slightest at this reprimand, “Partying. Having fun.”

“Nick.” She let out an exasperated cry. She couldn’t even imagine what Marty would have to say about the prospect of Nick Carter, his kidnapping victim, being out partying in the midst of all these people, arm wrestling the damn police force and everything. Marty would plotz. He’d freak out on her. She tingled just thinking about all the cuss words that would fall out of his mouth.

“It’s Chad,” he said haughtily.

“Fucking give me a break, you hate that name,” she snapped.

Nick shrugged, “You’re the one that gave it to me.”

Avery groaned and rubbed her face. She had to get him back to the house, this was the final straw. And what’s more was she had to get him tied up. No more of this bullshit. She didn’t think she could take another run around the island like this morning and if he kept pulling crap like this, then she’d have a serious issue on her hands. Marty was right, it wasn’t safe having him loose.

But how would she get him tied up? she wondered.

“They like Chad,” he said. “And c’mon, it ain’t so bad having fun, is it? If there was someone here tryin’ to kill me, they’d of done it by now,” he added.

Avery shook her head, “You don’t know that.”

Nick stared into her eyes. “C’mon. Please. Just for a little bit, then we can go if you wanna. Just a few more minutes.”

Avery frowned.

“C’mon, let your hair down and come dance with me.” He reached over and before she could say anything, he’d pulled the claw clip out of her hair and her updo tumbled onto her shoulders. He clipped it to the hem of her shirt and grabbed her hand. “C’mon. You know you wanna dance with me.”

“I don’t wanna dance with you, Nick,” she said.

“Because you wanna dance with Chad,” he replied, “Which, luckily for you, is me.” Then, before she could say another word, he dragged her back out into the lighted area in front of the barn. She stumbled along behind him, her face flush with a mixture of anxiety (she didn’t know how to dance very well) and anger (she hated him for doing this to her). He got her out a ways into the crowded driveway and pulled her until their chests met in the middle and he was staring down into her eyes, the one hand clutching her fingers and the other snaked around to her back to hold her against him like that.

Something stirred in her as his palm spread across her spine, as the warmth of his body met hers and his eyes searched her eyes. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was, but it was ebbing away at her breathing skills.

Panic?

The twangy cover band was plucking their way through Straight From the Heart by Bryan Adams. Nick laughed and sang jaggedly along, “It was ...only… you and me… young… wild.. and free…” He grinned, and the sparkle of his teeth reached his eyes, shining almost as bright as the catch light from the strings overhead.

“I loved this song,” she said, “I had this cassingle.”

“Me, too,” he replied. “I biked all the way from my house to this record store to buy it with pennies I stole out of my dad’s money bank,” he confessed.

Avery laughed.

“You look pretty, by the way,” he said.

She rolled her eyes.

“You ain’t very good at taking compliments,” he commented, “See, that there’s the part where you’re supposed to say thank you.”

“It’s just the two of us right now,” she whispered, “You don’t have to keep up the fiance facade if nobody else is listening to you.”

“That wasn’t Chad saying that,” he said.

Avery felt her stomach tremble at the thought that he’d meant it… at the idea that maybe as handsome as she was thinking he looked was as beautiful as he thought she looked… He was a really warm to touch and smelled sweet and safe and good. The way the lights reflected in his eyes and lit up his hair and his smile, he looked like a supernova, like a dream...

But no, no. No. She couldn’t let that kind of feeling take over, she thought. She had Marty, she had a job to do here, one that included figuring out how to get him tied up that night.

He dipped her gently backward so that he was leaning over her, his hands bracing her, supporting her, and she felt a rush of energy flow through her as he pulled her back upright and spun around, pulling her back into his chest.

As she pressed against him once again, she had a really wicked idea.

Marty had said to do anything, she thought.

So, as the band wrapped up their Bryan Adams rendition and switched to the mandatory Sweet Home Alabama hack, she leaned into Nick, laced her fingers through his, and said, “You’re looking pretty amazing tonight yourself.” Her voice was low, husky… suggestive, she hoped.

Nick’s eyebrows went up.

She grinned up at him. “You, uh, you really know how to… to win a girl… to make them weak,” she said.

He blinked in surprise.

“How to… turn them on,” she added in a whisper.

“Is that what I’m doin’?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

She knew his ego would take over from there. She could rely on it. He grinned, and pulled her even closer, “I warned you,” he said.

“I didn’t listen,” she replied thickly.

He smiled and leaned closer, so his mouth was right next to her ear and he said lowly, “No sex in the safe house, Officer Montgomery-Whitman.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” she replied.

Nick smiled and spun her around again. A couple people looked their way as he stepped up the dance moves a notch, his heart beating. He looked at her, the beginnings of interest twitching in him, his nerves switching thinking gears from one head to the other. He cleared his throat and with the last shreds of thought aimed toward the brain, he wondered if he even liked her enough to fuck her yet, if having sex with Avery would enhance the time they were spending together or make it harder.

It already made it harder, his other head said.

Fuck it, he thought, the worst that would happen is he’d be miserable for the next however long it took before he could go home again. Well, he was already miserable. But at least he’d be miserably getting laid.

So, decision made, he pulled her back from the spin so that she nestled into him, her back against his chest, his arm crossing over her breasts. She could feel the bulge of his pants against her backside as he pressed into her, bending his face over her shoulder to kiss her neck and the one side of her collar bone. His hair touched her cheek and it was so soft… she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of his smell.

There were worse people this could be happening with, she thought.

Nick’s extra hand landed on her side and he ran it down her waist to her hip and brought his face up from her collarbone so their cheeks touched and he whispered, “If you’re gonna break a rule, you should really shatter the fuck out of it,” he muttered, “Or it wasn’t worth breaking it at all.”

“Agreed,” she mumbled.

She led the way to the car, where she’d parked just behind Billy’s cruiser. He was sitting in the front seat, the door open, what looked like an ipad in his lap, staring down at something, concentrating. He looked up as they approached. “Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“We’re tired,” Avery replied quickly.

Billy’s eyes traveled to Nick. “Tired. Right,” he said, and he turned back to his ipad.

Nick hurried to the passenger side and opened the door as Avery got into the driver’s side.

“Hey… Chad… What’s your last name anyway?” Billy called.

Nick’s mind raced over a plethora of last names, but none of them settled on his tongue. “My last name?” he said to buy time, and then he blurted out the first one that would come out, “Richardson. Chad Richardson.” He quickly got into the car and slammed the door.

“Chad Richardson, huh,” Billy said, and he turned back to his iPad, typing in the name on the police database search.

There was something funny about that guy, he’d thought so since he first saw him, peeking around the doorway at the house.

The database popped back, No results.

Seriously? Not even a speeding ticket or anything?

Billy quickly pulled up Google and typed in Chad Richardson. Results popped up including a Twitter, Facebook and Social Media page for a singer from Canada, but the pictures of the guy looked nothing like the guy with Avery. Additionally, there seemed to be some sports star named Chad Richardson, but nothing else. He opened Facebook and searched for Chad Richardson, but not much came up, and still no matches.

For the hell of it, he typed in Avery Montgomery. She came right up, her profile was friends only, but she had changed the profile pictures not even a week ago to a picture of herself, standing in front of an ice cream place with a guy who was very much not Chad Richardson, holding up a single chocolate-vanilla swirl soft serve cone between their two mouths.

Billy leaned back in his seat and checked the date on the picture, then stared into the dark the direction their taillights had gone.

It didn’t add up, he thought.

Something just didn’t add up.