The Rules for Breaking Read online

  Mrs. Landry walks through the place then assigns rooms. “Anna, Elena, and Emma can have the room with bunk beds at the top of the stairs to the left. Richard, you can take the one on the right. We’ll stay in the room down here. Ethan you get the couch.”

  Emma is not happy when she discovers there is no cell phone reception on this island. Mr. Landry must have known and mentioned this to Agent Williams before we left, since he was given a satellite phone to be used for an emergency. Other than that we are cut off.

  It’s going to be a long couple of days.

  Teeny must be thinking the same thing when she asks, “How long do you think we’re going to be here?”

  I watch her for signs of that sad little girl that defined her for the better part of the year. She seems to be handling this fairly well, so I don’t lie.

  “I don’t know. Agent Williams seems to think this will all be wrapped up in a few days. We could survive a month if we had to with the stash of groceries down there, though.”

  Teeny climbs up to the top bunk. “I don’t want to be around when Emma figures that out.”

  It’s midmorning by the time I make it downstairs. Teeny puts on a strong front while she’s awake but she woke up screaming last night. It took a while to get her back to sleep and then I was wired. Emma evicted Ethan from the couch and he ended up on the floor in a sleeping bag.

  “Did you catch up on some sleep?” Ethan asks me.

  We’re in the main living area where Ethan and his dad are checking to make sure the guns they brought are loaded before putting them into a cabinet. Emma picks up a rifle and starts opening and closing parts and lots of other things I don’t understand. I’ve heard she’s as good of a shot as Ethan.

  I nod and rub my eyes. Teeny’s in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal, looking fresh and alert and completely normal, like last night didn’t happen.

  While the guys go outside to chop some firewood, Mrs. Landry decides to teach Teeny and me how to bake, since there isn’t much else to do.

  I should be peeved over the obvious gender stereotypes in play here, but chopping wood looks hard so I’m going to leave them to it.

  It was actually fun at first. Mrs. Landry is like my old kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Wilcox—she has the same sugary sweet voice and explains everything like we’re five years old—so it’s not surprising when she starts in with the corny cupcake jokes.

  “Why did the cupcake crash his car?” she asks.

  I glance at Emma who rolls her eyes, but not in her normal bitchy way. She’s giggly and answers her mother with an exaggerated “Why?”

  Mrs. Landry waits a moment for dramatic effect and answers, “Because he was baked.”

  Emma, Teeny, and I laugh, and that is the only push Mrs. Landry needs to keep the jokes rolling.

  “Why did the cupcake major in restaurant management?”

  We all groan in anticipation of the answer.

  “Why?” Teeny asks.

  “It wanted to be a Hostess.”

  And they only get cornier.

  Emma moves closer to me and whispers, “Dad got her this culinary joke-a-day calendar and we’ve been subjected to cooking humor ever since. Who knew there were so many jokes about a cupcake?”

  We have a really nice afternoon and I’m glad to see Emma loosen up.

  But watching Mrs. Landry and Emma makes me think about Mom and how this could have easily been a scene from our kitchen back in Scottsdale. Or maybe it’s the hope of a scene we may have in the future in Natchitoches. Teeny must have been thinking the same thing, because she got quiet and wasn’t interested in learning how to make roses out of icing.

  By early afternoon, we’d made two cakes, twenty-four cupcakes, and three pies.

  I’m cleaning up after our baking extravaganza when I feel a tug on the back on my shirt.

  “Want to sneak out of here for a little while?”

  It’s Ethan, wearing a devilish smile, and one I won’t even try to resist. Glancing around the kitchen, I know I should stay and finish the dishes, but I’m not losing this opportunity to be alone with him.

  “Lead the way.”

  With my hand in his, we bolt from the camp and dash down the gravel road. Winding around a few of the other camps, we stop in front of a rather large one.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Not letting go of my hand, we make our way to the back of the house and up a set of stairs that leads to a balcony. I’m shocked when I make it to the top.

  There’s an old-timey black potbelly stove with a roaring fire inside next to a hammock loaded with pillows and blankets. It’s colder here than I thought it would be, so the fire is a nice surprise.

  I dive into the hammock without thinking twice and Ethan, after putting his jacket on the floor, isn’t far behind me. It takes some moving around and a little readjusting before we’re all cuddled up just right.

  “How did you know this is exactly what I needed?” I say.

  “Because this is what I needed, too.”

  And then he kisses me. We’re close, very close, since our bodies have settled into the center. The blankets and fire have made it warm and toasty and the slight sway of the hammock mimics the rhythm of our bodies moving against each other.

  His hands slip under the edge of my T-shirt and his calloused fingertips burn a trail up my back.

  Ethan buries his head in the crook of my neck and mumbles something I can’t understand, then he’s back to kissing me in my favorite spot just behind my ear.

  He moves over me until I’m pinned beneath him, his forearms framing my face and bracing his weight. The hammock closes in around us and it’s like we’re in our own safe little cocoon.

  “I would give anything to stay just like this for the foreseeable future,” he says with that dimpled grin.

  “Me, too.” I feel desperate. And anxious. But hopeful. And that is a new and wonderful feeling. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a really long time.”

  We stay in the hammock for longer than we probably should and only move to get out when Ethan mentions he doesn’t want our dads, armed with shotguns, to find us here like this.

  We hold hands walking back to the cabin and I hate to think how miserable it would have been to leave Natchitoches without him.

  “Well, there you are. I was about to send out a search party.” Mrs. Landry gives Ethan an arched eyebrow and a look that means they will be discussing this later. “Don’t forget why we’re here.”

  I can feel the blush that races across my cheeks.

  “We didn’t leave the campground,” Ethan answers back, his tone a little stronger than I’ve ever heard him use to his mother.

  “Just the same. Don’t leave without telling someone where you are going and taking some protection with you.”

  Oh God! My face is on fire.

  Ethan pulls a handgun out of his coat pocket and drops it on the table. “I know better than to walk around without a gun.”

  Guns. She was talking about a gun…not the other kind of protection. I hope it isn’t obvious my mind went straight to the gutter. It didn’t occur to me to take a gun. Ethan is definitely more prepared for this than I am. And now that I think about it, even when the men chop wood, they’re armed. And I’ve noticed that Dad and Mr. Landry took turns staying up last night. When Teeny started screaming in her sleep, Dad was in our room, armed and dressed, before I was fully awake. It’s so quiet here, it’s hard to remember that we may be in danger.

  Mrs. Landry gives Ethan some chores and scoots him out of the kitchen. I turn to the sink and realize all the dishes are clean and drying on the rack. Guilt swallows me up instantly.

  “It’s okay. I knocked them out.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Landry. We didn’t want anyone to wor
ry.”

  She puts an arm around me and pulls me in close. “I’d be worried about you even if you were sitting right in front of me and I had a shotgun pointed at the door. I just hate that this is happening to you. And Ethan.” She moves a stray piece of hair out of my face. “I understand the need to spend some time alone. Just be smart about it, okay?”

  I duck my head so she won’t see the tears forming in my eyes. It’s been so long since a mother figure has worried about me. Or hugged me so tight. Pearl’s done a good job filling in the holes, but she likes to come off gruff. I miss my mother.

  By morning of day three, Agent Williams calls the satellite phone with some great news. They’ve found Daniel Sanders and he’s in custody. He warns us that we’ll be here a little longer since they are hoping to catch Thomas before we come home.

  We’re so relieved by this news that another few days seems like no big deal.

  Well, to everyone except Emma.

  Mr. Landry and Dad both use the phone to check in back home. Dad asks for a little more time off of work and Mr. Landry talks to Will’s dad, who is his partner in the farm. Luckily for him, this is the slow time of year; crops won’t be planted for a few weeks so it’s not a bad time for him to be gone. Ethan, Emma, Teeny, and I will have a ridiculous amount of schoolwork to make up, but if it means we get to stay in Natchitoches, it will be worth it.

  Ethan is wrestling with the clothes in the laundry room when I poke my head back in.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Mom assigned me dirty clothes duty today.” He holds up one of Emma’s bras. “Sister or not, this is uncomfortable.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You want to do laundry or hang out with me?”

  “Hmm…let me think….” He’s pulling me out of the laundry room before he even finishes. “You. Definitely want to be with you.” He leans in close and whispers, “I’ve got an idea that can get us out of our chores.”

  We pass Mrs. Landry in the kitchen. Ethan says, “We’re going for a walk. I’ve got a gun and we won’t be long. I’m giving Anna another shooting lesson. Warn Dad and Mr. Boyd in case they hear us.”

  She nods, and replies, “Don’t be too long. It’ll be dark soon.”

  It’s close to dusk when we plunge through the thick brush into the woods. It’s hard to navigate with all the down trees and stumps, but each step we take away from the camp, the better I feel.

  We get far enough from the camp to feel alone but not so far that I can’t find my way back. It’s quiet except for the few birds we spook as we crunch along the ground. Ethan finally stops, so I find a tree stump and sit down, pulling my knees up.

  When Ethan drops down in front of me, he’s holding the same small gun I fired at the farm in one hand and several bullets in the other.

  “Do you remember how to load this?”

  I’m nervous and excited looking down at it. A group of birds takes off from the ground a few feet behind me, startling me, and I almost fall off the stump.

  “Maybe you’re not ready for this again. I should have asked you first. We can go back to the camp.”

  He gets up and I pull him back down. “Wait. I want to try it again. Just give me a minute.”

  Ethan places the gun in my outstretched hand. I feel sweaty even though it’s cold outside. The gun is heavy and all I can think about is how loud and scary it is when fired.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. All of those awful images of Brandon and his dad threaten to return, but I control my breathing and force them away.

  “Just sit there a minute. I’m going to find a stick or something we can use as a target.” He stands, and searches the ground.

  I flex my fingers over the gun, trying to get used to the feel of it.

  “This’ll work,” he says and lifts a small piece of wood in the air. He takes a step toward me then grabs his left shoulder with his right hand. He stands there a moment, a dazed look on his face, before he crumples to the ground, hitting it with a thud.

  I race to where he is. “Ethan! Ethan!”

  Shaking him does nothing. He’s out. Completely unconscious.

  Oh my God!

  Did he hit his head? I feel around but nothing, no blood, no bumps. I gauge the distance back to the camp and decide to run for help. It’s close to dark and if I wait much longer, it will be too hard to find him here on the ground.

  I jump up and slam into something hard but warm. Hands form steel bands around my upper arms and the face I hoped and prayed never to see again comes into focus in front of my eyes.

  Thomas.

  Rules for disappearing

  by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

  Be paranoid. The best way for the bad guys not to get you is to think the bad guys are always just about to get you.

  New rule by Anna Boyd:

  Paranoia isn’t enough.

  throw up on his shoes. Not a lot but enough that he pushes me down to the ground and shakes the chunks off into the dead leaves.

  “If you scream, I’ll kill him,” Thomas says in a controlled voice.

  Ethan is still knocked out a few feet away. “What did you do to him?” I ask.

  The gun in my hand is useless without the bullets. I search the ground to see if I can find where they fell out of his hand.

  Thomas uses a stick to scrap off the last bit of puke from his running shoes. “Tranquilizer dart. He’ll be unconscious for a few hours.”

  He uses a hard, clipped tone that’s different from the one that reeled me in when I thought he was a federal agent. And his movements are different. Everything about him is.

  “Why are you here?”

  He snatches Ethan’s gun out of my hand and puts it in his pocket. “You involved the U.S. Marshals Service when you shouldn’t have.”

  “Me! You sent the flowers. And brought the journal back. It’s your fault they’re involved, not mine.”

  He crouches down in front of me, his face just inches from mine. “Keep your voice down.”

  My mouth snaps closed. Despite the heavy coat, a chill races through my body. I look at Ethan and watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. Thank God he’s breathing.

  “Are you…you going to…to…to kill me?” I stutter out.

  “Not if you do exactly as I say.” Thomas stalks toward Ethan and kneels beside him, while I scramble to throw myself across his body.

  “Don’t hurt him!” I scream.

  Thomas grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks until tears form in my eyes. He pushes me off Ethan and I fall back on the ground.

  Flipping Ethan over, he pulls a zip tie from his coat pocket and binds Ethan’s wrists. Tears stream down my face. My heart races and I feel clammy. My mind is churning—what do I do…what do I do…. I’ve never been so scared in all my life.

  Thomas finishes with Ethan and turns back to me. “Stand up.”

  “Not until you tell me what you’re planning to do.”

  Thomas crouches down and leans in closer until our noses are inches apart. I’m instantly more uncomfortable than I ever thought possible. The differences in him are alarming. His eyes are ice cold, and every move he makes is calculated. His gaze stays on me like he’s absorbing everything I’m thinking. It’s hard to believe he’s the same person who tried to befriend me just a few short weeks ago. I realize now just how naive I’ve been. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that I’d rather face Thomas than run—that was a lie. This is so much worse than I ever thought it would be.

  “The very nasty people who pay me to do very nasty things were not pleased when I allowed you to live. It was the first time I did not fulfill a contract. I assured them you would not cause a problem, but you have proven me wrong.” He runs a finger down the side of my face. I try to back away from him but he grabs the front of m
y shirt and hauls me back in.

  I slap my hand over my mouth, praying I won’t throw up again. He doesn’t blink. Or move. His eyes bore into me and I know I’m looking at a monster. He flings me back and I land hard on the ground for a second time.

  Thomas stands quickly and whistles. Within seconds another person emerges from the woods. The light is fading and I can’t tell until he gets closer that he’s wearing a black ski mask. I can barely make out his eyes from the tiny openings. He’s wearing all black clothes and black combat boots. I can’t quit staring at him. Is he one of the suits who Agent Williams thinks is the mole—Agent X?

  He looks nervous, eyes darting back and forth between me and Thomas.

  “Pick him up,” Thomas says to the masked man.

  “No.” I stumble forward, trying to get to Ethan before the other man does. I can’t even think about what Thomas has planned for him. My fingers dig into the rough ground as I claw my way back to him. Ethan’s warm breath hits the cool night air and I take comfort in the fact he is still breathing. I cover Ethan’s body with mine, offering him any protection I can. I’m praying one of the dads will appear, shotgun in hand, but so far it’s just us out here. Even if our families hear something, they probably won’t come looking since they think Ethan is teaching me how to shoot a gun.

  The masked man stands over us but doesn’t move toward Ethan. He looks back at Thomas as if asking how he’s supposed to pick Ethan up since I’m draped over his chest.

  Thomas pulls me off of Ethan, restraining my arms. As much as I struggle, I can’t move an inch. “If you continue to fight me, your boyfriend will pay the consequence,” he growls.

  I stop moving instantly.

  The masked man struggles lifting Ethan until he finally gets him over his shoulder.

  “You don’t need him! Take me! Leave him here!” I shout.

  Thomas squeezes my arms so tight behind me I think they’re going to pop out of the sockets.

  “Be quiet. This isn’t just about you anymore,” he whispers in my ear.

  Thomas pushes me in the back and we follow Ethan and the masked man into the darkening forest.