She would absolutely die a thousand deaths from mortification if someone picked it up and read her letter to S. Not to mention, library books were expensive.
“You don’t need to worry about the book,” the same man said. He had brown hair and hazel eyes, and he was tall and muscular, like every other dude here. “Blythe, if you don’t tell her, seriously, someone has to.”
“I will, Barnum,” Blythe said.
“Tell me what?” Dew snapped. “I just want my book and I want to go home. That’s all.”
“You can’t go home,” Blythe said, her voice so gentle that Dew hadn’t heard her correctly.
“Sorry. What?” Dew said. She didn’t want to crawl around on the ground on her hands and knees to look for S’s book, but she’d do it if she had to.
“Here’s your book,” a man said, swooping out of nowhere and grabbing the book from an invisible dark place close to Dew. He handed it to her, his eyes dark, his face grave.
“You can’t go,” Blythe said, then cleared her throat. “You can’t go home now.”
An icy feeling of alarm spread through Dew’s body. Blythe sounded regretful, sad. Were they going to hurt her?
Dew took a deep breath. She must’ve stumbled into something bad. A criminal organization, some kind of small-town mafia out in the sticks of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Unlikely, yep, but it was the simplest explanation.
And this dangerous group believed Dew had seen too much.
“I honestly don’t have any guesses as to what you’re up to out here,” Dew choked out, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes. “I swear. I won’t tell a soul about seeing you here. I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“I’m so sorry,” Blythe said.
That sounded like a killing order. Dew spun around and ran for her car.
“Grab her before she hits the wall!” Blythe shouted.
Wall?
Strong arms wrapped around Dew from the back. One of those ginormous beefcakes had grabbed her. The guy lifted her from the ground, so Dew kicked back with her feet, wishing her ankle boots did more than make him grunt and say, “Ouch.”
Since that wasn’t working, Dew did the next best thing.
She screamed.
“Fuck,” the guy behind her said. His hand came up to cover her mouth.
She bit down.
“Fuck!” he yelled again, and dropped her.
Dew landed on her hands and knees. Leaving the library book behind, she scrambled toward her car, aiming for its shadowy outline.
“Wait.” Blythe’s voice. “I scared you, and I’m sorry.”
Dew didn’t have time for this crap. It sounded like brainwashing. She’d stumbled into a cult—a scary, criminal one.
Blythe hurried over to Dew’s side and pointed to a faint gravel line on the ground. “There’s a wall. Please slow down so you don’t hurt yourself. That’s the only reason I asked Damien to grab you. He could’ve been nicer about it.”
“What?” the man said. “You said to grab her.”
The gravel line was four feet away. Dew eyed it.
“I’m backing up,” Blythe said. “No one’s going to touch you. But please don’t hurt yourself. Just walk to the line slowly, okay? You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
Dew risked a glance behind her. She couldn’t see super clearly in the dark, but she could see enough to know everyone was well away from her, other than Blythe, who was quickly moving off. Dew’s panic lessened, and she slowed as she approached the line. As she slowed, she remembered that feeling of touching something solid, something invisible. She’d believed she was hallucinating.
What if she hadn’t been?
“Jeez, what is in the air up here?” she muttered. But she got to her feet and slowly, as Blythe had requested, moved to the gravel line.
“Maybe hold out your hands,” a man suggested.
What the heck did Dew have to lose? She picked up S’s book, tucked it under her arm, and held out her hands while she stepped forward. Her fingertips pressed into something solid. But there was nothing here. It was impossible. Either she was hallucinating, or they’d hypnotized her. Was she dreaming?
Impressed and frightened by the impossibility of this, Dew ran her hands all over the smooth, cold, and decidedly solid barrier. She followed the gravel line a few feet to the left, running her hands all over the air. Then she did the same thing again, going to the right. As far as she walked, the gravel line seemed to keep on going. She knew she must look bizarre, waving her arms in the air against an invisible wall.
“What is going on?” Dew said.
“This is what I meant about you not being able to leave,” Blythe said. “You’re trapped in here. Most of us are.”
Dew swallowed, turned around, and put her back against the wall or whatever it was. “Where is here exactly?”
“The Junkyard,” another man said, stepping from the shadows. His skin was a lighter brown than Dew’s, and his eyes were two different colors—one green, and the other a brown so faint it looked yellow. He continued, “It’s a place for…well, for people like us.”
People like us? She had no clue what that even meant. Super attractive, well-muscled, impossibly thick?
“I’m Jase,” the man said, holding out a hand.
Dew stared at the hand, wondering if she should shake it. Would he just grab her?
“You can trust me,” he said, pulling his hand back and not seeming upset by her lack of trust so far. “You’re not supposed to be here, but we’ll do what we can to get you out.”
“Let’s say I go along with this craziness,” Dew said. “Let’s say I’m really stuck.”
“Yeah, let’s say that, lady, because you are,” one of the other men said. It was one of the guys who’d first started talking to her when she arrived.
“Shut up, Dallas,” Blythe said.
Ignoring both of them, Dew leaned harder against the invisible barrier behind her. “I have a job. I have a house. I have a life out there. I can’t just disappear from it.”
“We’ll get that figured out,” Blythe said. “I’ll help you arrange a leave of absence, automatic payments for the upkeep of your home, pet sitters if you need them.”
“I don’t have any pets,” Dew whispered. She’d been wanting a cat, but hadn’t yet committed to the idea.
“Good,” Blythe said. “We can send someone to your place to empty the refrigerator, and they can keep an eye on it while you’re here.”
“And a leave of absence?” Dew asked, not sure she understood. She had a job. She had to show up to that job. She liked her job.
Blythe’s face was kind. “Unless you can work remotely, yeah.”
Dew shook her head. This was a disaster. This was a nightmare.
That was it—she had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real.
She sagged against the wall behind her. The invisible wall. Magic. Yeah, no way.
Life could change in the smallest moments. She knew this. She’d seen it. One swerve of a driver, and a brother was gone.
Had Dew’s life changed again? This quickly? Part of the reason she’d moved to a small town was that life was predictable in small towns.