Chapter 6 - The Cold of Change

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The girl turned around on the seat. "Cool to meet you. I'm Zia." Her teeth were bright white, her eyelashes thick and black as coal, and her skin creamy and flawless. I kind of hated her.

The clear picture of her face blinked out as the one who'd convinced me to get inside the Jeep shut his door, turning off the interior light.

Introductions were important, but I was expecting explanations first. I heard Zia's name in the back of my mind, but my awareness hadn't caught up to it yet. I studied the three guys: the driver with a short black mohawk; the smallest, who sat behind the driver to my left and seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face; the guy sitting on the other side of me against the passenger door. His skin was lightly tanned, his hair dark, almost black, with a messy shortcut; his dark-brown eyes instantly pulled me into some abyss, which I recognized immediately as an inevitable problem.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, turning my attention quickly to Zia. "I was afraid you were someone else."

"William and Ashe from the skate park?" she guessed.

We sat parked in the middle of the road while the driver sent text messages back and forth with someone.

"Yeah," I admitted. "You know them? Who are they?"

"The Vargas brothers," the inevitable problem on my right said. "And trouble you don't want."

"I guess it's a little late for that," I said.

Zia chuckled. "Yeah. A little late for that. Nice uppercut, by the way."

"Was that what that was?" I asked in jest. "Not sure how I managed to bloody his nose, though, but I guess stranger things have happened."

"Maybe he's just a bleeder," the guy to my right said.

That's exactly what I thought. Weird.

"Probably," I said out loud.

I rested my back against the seat, pulling my sleeves over my hands and crossing my arms.

Zia's eyes went back and forth between him and me as if waiting-hoping?-we'd engage in more conversation. Great, another mad matchmaker like my sister? An awkward silence ensued.

When neither of us said anything more, Zia jumped in. "Well, my brothers are Damien here"-she nodded toward the driver-"and Joseph back there, who everyone calls Dwarf." She was referring to the little one sitting behind the driver next to me. "And that's Isaac. We live with him and his family."

Isaac offered his hand; a faint smile showed more in his eyes than on his mouth.

I paused, then finally placed my hand into his. Warmth. It was the first word that came to mind. Not sit-by-the-fire warmth or slip-into-a-bath warmth. It was more like that just right, in-between feeling, the comfort zone where everything is perfect and safe and where it needs to be. Yes, definitely an inevitable problem. And I needed to bite the head off this snake before it bit me.

I quickly pulled my hand from Isaac's and then faced forward, giving Zia my undivided attention. My throat was incredibly dry.

"Well, after punching William Vargas in the face," Zia said, "it's better you not be out around here by yourself. In case he comes back."

"What was that, anyway?" I asked. "Some random guy harassing a random girl?"

"It wasn't random," Isaac said. "They came for a reason. But don't ask why because we don't know yet. All we do know is that it has something to do with your sister, Alex."

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