Chapter 12. Amber McBride

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Saturday, August 6, 2011, 12:00 p.m. Los Angeles

The voice of a teenage girl cuts through the static. "Welcome back, bitch."

Dad moves in between me and George to turn off the intercom. "Enough eavesdropping on someone else's cell phone conversation. We've got work to do."

I pivot toward the open sliding glass door, where Jonah's backing into the den holding our coffee table. Seth is just outside the door hoisting the other end of the table. Seth steps across the threshold, which forces Jonah backward to collide with me. We tumble to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

George bends and grabs my hands. As he pulls me to my feet, the forward momentum propels me into his muscular body. A whiff of sweat mingled with cologne hits my nose. With my face pressed against his chest, I forget about the ghostly voices.

My heart's pounding at this unexpected physical contact. Time slows as I lift my face and find intense brown eyes staring. Warmth floods my veins. Tingling shoots from head to toe. With a shove, I break his hold and step backward onto Jonah in a crumpled heap on the floor.

This time, Dad reaches out with strong hands to grab my shoulders and keep me from falling again.

Seth laughs. "Dang, Jonah, I was hoping you'd take out George with the table."

George's features harden as he releases me and moves toward Seth. The 6-foot-tall Latino towers over 5-foot Seth. George's hands open and close into fists. "What's your problem, pee-wee?"

Seth pulls right his arm back and curls his hand into a fist aimed directly at George's privates.

A blast of hot air gusts through the open sliding glass door. My face is burning. Sweat drips from my forehead to my cheeks.

Jonah leaps to his feet to stand next to Seth. His beanpole body is the opposite of George's muscular frame. Jonah and Seth are children in comparison to the Salvia brothers.

The air hangs heavy with tension. My heart's pounding. Don't just stand here like a dummy. Do something, Amber!

I'm frozen by indecision. Luckily, Dad intervenes to step in between George and Seth. He crosses his arms and his forehead scrunches into the you're in trouble frown. "We've got work to do. If you Salvia boys want to help, you're welcome to stay. If you want trouble, hit the road."

Seth scoots past Dad to stand in front of George. His blonde head bobs between the two tall men. "Lighten up, I'm only kidding."

George raises his hands chest-height like he's surrendering. "At ease, shrimp."

The air in the room is heavy, my mouth dry. All these people, and so close.

Must get out of here. Can't breathe.

Eying an exit, I announce, "I'm going to check on Kibbles."

Jonah's eyes narrow. "Nice working with you, too."

"I didn't mean, I meant...Sorry, I'll be back."

My face burns with embarrassment. I never say the right thing. Nice work, McBride.

As I leave the den, I shut the hall door for privacy. Opening the bathroom door, I find a sleeping Kibbles sprawled on a black laminate floor speckled with gold flecks. I bend to give his dusty head a pat and brace one hand on the ground. It's cool to my touch.

I'm careful to be quiet as I leave the bathroom and shut the door.

Opening a door at the opposite end of the hall reveals another room with a high, wood-beamed ceiling. I'm guessing this is the living room because our rattan chaise sits in the center. It's encircled by built-in bookcases, a grand piano nook and a bay window overlooking the mountains. On the eastern side is a gigantic fireplace with a slate bench running the length of the room.

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