Chamaeleon: Book 3.5 of The Stardust Series Read online

  Chamaeleon

  Book 3.5 of The Stardust Series

  By Autumn Reed and Julia Clarke

  Copyright © 2016 by Autumn Reed and Julia Clarke. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  http://www.autumnandjulia.com/

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Jackson

  Chapter 2: Haley

  Chapter 3: Liam

  Chapter 4: Theo

  Chapter 5: Haley

  Chapter 6: Chase

  Chapter 7: Haley

  Chapter 8: Jackson

  Chapter 9: Liam

  Chapter 10: Haley

  Chapter 11: Knox

  Chapter 12: Theo

  Chapter 13: Chase

  Chapter 14: Haley

  Chapter 15: Knox

  Chapter 16: Theo

  Chapter 17: Haley

  Chapter 18: Jackson

  Chapter 19: Haley

  Chapter 20: Knox

  Chapter 21: Haley

  Chapter 22: Theo

  Chapter 23: Chase

  Chapter 24: Chase

  Chapter 25: Liam

  Epilogue: Haley

  Chapter 1: Jackson

  Friday, April 24th

  Parking in front of the loft, I shut off the ignition and rested my head against the seat. Since there weren’t any nearby streetlights, I was immediately shrouded in darkness and was tempted to just sit out there all night and seethe.

  When Uncle broke the news to me a few hours before, I assumed he was joking, completely unable to comprehend that his words might be reality. But once I realized that his solemn, sympathetic expression wasn’t changing, the truth hit me like a fifty-foot wave. It was every team leader’s worst nightmare—that moment when things fall apart.

  I would call an emergency meeting for the entire team first thing in the morning, but I had to at least give Knox a heads-up about what happened. I knew he, especially, would want time to mentally work through it before the meeting. Plus, I had to vent to someone and didn’t want to put Uncle through any more of my ranting tonight.

  Son of a bitch. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, angrier than I remembered being in a very, very long time. What the hell was he thinking? How could he do this to us?

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I sent Knox a text.

  Me: I’m out front. Need to talk in private. 9-1-1.

  Knox: In the garage.

  The garage door started to open, so I hopped out of the Jeep and headed that direction. Knox stood in the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. Although it was almost midnight, he had clearly been tinkering with one of the cars, something I knew he did as much to relax as actually fix anything.

  “What is it?” he asked gruffly.

  Pointing to the two worn leather chairs in the corner, I said, “We might as well sit down for this.” He gave me a look but didn’t resist.

  I tried to get comfortable in the chair but couldn’t sit still. The whirring of the ceiling fan diverted my attention for a few seconds before I forced myself to focus. I couldn’t stand the thought of telling any of the team; it was all my fault and everyone would know it.

  “Shit,” I sighed. “Ethan’s gone.”

  “What do you mean gone?”

  “He filed the official paperwork requesting dismissal from the team this evening after close of business.”

  Knox’s infamous poker face revealed nothing as he let the information sink in. After several long moments of silence, he finally asked, “Have you spoken to him?”

  “No. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts, and he wasn’t home when I went by his place. He applied for immediate leave, which he appears to be taking whether or not it’s granted.”

  “I assume you checked the tracker on his cell?”

  “He turned his phone off and left it at the apartment.”

  Knox grunted. “What reason did he provide on the form?” Even though Ethan would have to endure a formal review process before his request was granted, the form still required a detailed explanation.

  “Some bullshit about irreconcilable differences like it’s a fucking divorce,” I said with a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t feel like a respected member of the team, his suggestions are ignored, etcetera.”

  Knox nodded slowly, then ran a hand through his hair, finally showing signs of agitation. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but we all know he’s been acting like a selfish asshole for a while now. I never thought he’d go this far, though.” He sighed. “What’s the plan?”

  “Calling an emergency team meeting at Patrick’s for first thing in the morning.”

  “And . . . what do you want to do?”

  I stood up and started pacing, knowing he was asking what I wanted the result of the meeting to be. We’d have to vote on whether we agreed to Ethan’s dismissal from the team or if we were going to dispute it and get him to reconsider.

  “I never thought I’d say this about anyone on the team, but right now I don’t want to change his mind.” Picking up a wrench, I threw it across the room, and when it hit the concrete, the loud clank reverberated in the open space. “I am so pissed at him right now. Even if we work things out, the team will be under extra scrutiny for at least a year. That’s the last thing we need.”

  “Whoa, whoa. No need to take out your anger on the tools,” Knox said lightly, but I knew he wasn’t joking. Tools were serious business to Knox. “Ignoring the BS on the form, why do you think Ethan quit the team?”

  Suddenly feeling stifled, I pulled my fleece over my head and threw it in the chair before resuming pacing. “Any number of reasons. His inability to agree with me about anything. His anger toward me whenever I don’t do exactly what he wants. His bitterness directed at me when I give him even the simplest of directions. Do you see a pattern?”

  Knox nodded slowly. “Ever since his blowup in San Francisco, there’s been a hard edge to him that was never there before. I’ve been concerned about it, but he won’t talk to me. As far as I know, he hasn’t opened up to anyone. Even Chase. Usually, I would have discussed it with you, but I didn’t want to make things worse since you seem to be the source of his issues.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m not even sure when things changed . . . we used to be so close.”

  “I hate to say it,” Knox said, “but do you think this has something to do with Haley? You have to admit, the timing is suspicious. And I know Ethan’s interested in her.”

  “Did he say something to you?”

  Knox laughed humorlessly. “He didn’t have to. He turns into a surly adolescent whenever any of us show her attention. Which is basically all the time.”

  He was right. I had noticed Ethan’s jealousy, but I assumed that since he’d continued his random hookups, things would never go further with Haley. Did his whole attitude problem begin because I’d practically forced everyone to agree to stay away from her? I was starting to wonder who the bigger idiot was—Ethan or me.

  “Damn it. I knew this would happen.” I shot Knox a dark look. “I blame you. Jax,” I sa
id, imitating his voice, “we have to bring her back to Santa Cruz with us. She needs our help.”

  Knox chuckled, sincerely this time. “Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t give almost anything to wrap her long hair around your fist and kiss her into tomorrow.”

  Yes, and a hell of a lot more. “She’s tempting as fuck, isn’t she? I thought I’d go insane while she was staying with me.”

  “Wimp. You only had to deal with it for like three days. She lives with me. Down the hall. Where she sleeps. And showers.”

  I smiled for the first time all night. “True. Not sure if I’m envious or relieved that I’m not you.” I shook my head. “We need to discuss what to do about her soon.”

  Knox stood. “I know. And, listen, try not to beat yourself up about Ethan. He’s a big boy and able to make his own choices, however poor they may be. I’m on your side and will support whatever you decide tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 2: Haley

  Saturday morning, April 25th

  I stared at the sidewalk in front of me, feeling like cracks in the pavement mirrored the ones in my heart. After the frenzy of packing and fleeing the loft, I had spent the last ten minutes walking to the corner store to catch a cab. Familiar with the route, and having budgeted enough time to reach my destination, my mind was free to wander.

  My head rationalized that I was making the right decision. If things went as planned, my absence would allow Ethan and the guys to set aside their differences and reunite. And, I would remove myself from Douglas’s grasp, hopefully eliminating his threats to reveal my identity or release detrimental information on Theo, or any of the guys. My head understood all of this, but my heart was another matter altogether, and I wasn’t sure I would ever fully recover.

  For the last seven months, my life practically revolved around “my” guys—they kept me safe, made me laugh, and embraced me as one of their own. And, now, the unimaginable was happening. I was turning my back on the life I created with them. There would be no more duets with Chase, tickle fights with Theo, stargazing with Ethan, running with Knox, relaxing with Jackson, or cooking with Liam. In other words, I was walking away from the place—and the people—that had become my new home.

  The cab appeared a few minutes after I arrived at the corner store, and I settled into the backseat, grateful for the break from walking, loaded down as I was by my backpack, guitar, and purse. After a short drive across town, we pulled up to the Museum of Art and History. I checked that my iPhone was powered on and silent, then shoved it behind the seat cushion. If, or rather when, the guys decided to access the tracking feature on my phone, they would be led on a wild goose chase. I doubted my distraction tactic would buy much time, but I’d take anything I could get.

  I paid the fare and watched the cab drive off, waiting until it was out of sight to turn in the direction of the bus station. Arriving at the station, I checked the schedules and relaxed once I realized that there was a bus to San Francisco in the next thirty minutes. I purchased a one-way ticket and took a seat in the waiting area until it was time to board.

  With every step I took away from the loft and my life with the guys, I felt simultaneously relieved and pained. I was relieved that I had made it this far without my flight being discovered, but I was pained that my separation from them was becoming more and more of a reality. I shook my head, willing myself to focus on the present; the bus was boarding, and I had a lot to figure out during the ride.

  Thankfully, there were plenty of empty seats on the bus, so I didn’t have to worry about someone sitting next to me and trying to make small talk. That would have been bad enough on a good day, and today was anything but.

  As the bus made its way out of Santa Cruz, I found myself taking a mental snapshot of every sight to tuck away for a rainy day. My sense of home had always been connected to the house in Coleville and my dad, and I had never attached those kind of feelings to a city . . . until now. Now, I understood how a place could so vividly evoke a memory. The paths and streets I ran on almost every morning. The cafés and ice cream shops I frequented with the guys. The library, grocery stores, and boutiques. They had all become a part of me.

  Once we were on the highway outside of town, I knew I had to begin making a plan before I drowned in sadness. I pulled out the tiny pen and notepad I always kept in my purse and decided to start a list. Maybe if I could organize my thoughts, I would be able to keep my head above water.

  First on the list: City. I closed my eyes and pictured a map of the western part of the United States, imagining the relatively large cities. How far should I go? I wondered. Although it would probably be best to get as far away from Santa Cruz as possible, I wasn’t willing to move across the country. I had no idea where my dad was, but I had a hunch that he had stayed in the area. Thus, I would only consider cities that were basically within a day’s drive of Northern California.

  Deciding I at least needed to get out of the state, I immediately crossed off Sacramento, Los Angeles, and San Diego. That left Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, and Portland. Sadly, Vegas wasn’t possible, since it would likely be one of the first places the guys would check because of Jessica. I didn’t know all that much about the last two on my list, but I had a feeling it would be easier to get lost in a crowd in Portland.

  I exhaled deeply. Portland it is.

  Next: Transportation. What were my options? Airplane, train, bus, boat, car. I ruled out the first three for being too easy to track. I already anticipated that the guys would discover that I’d taken the bus to San Francisco within a day, if not sooner. Although I liked the boat idea, I knew it was too complicated on my tight schedule, and hitchhiking was downright irresponsible. The only real option was to drive myself. A rental was tempting, but again, too easy to track. So, I would have to buy a car. Hopefully I would be able to find a really cheap one on Craigslist that I could pay cash for and ditch later.

  Once those decisions were made, my list expanded with small details. What to do when I made it to San Francisco, then Portland. Finding a job and a place to live, preferably a furnished apartment. A different look, including an entirely new wardrobe. There were so many things to think about, and I could hardly believe that after only seven months, I was completely starting over . . . again.

  I was so engrossed in making plans that the bus ride to downtown San Francisco, which was a little over three hours, went surprisingly fast. In the station, I checked a map and was relieved to find a public library less than a mile from the bank since I desperately needed internet access.

  After taking a transfer to the library, I headed straight for the computers. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to check my old e-mail address, I set up yet another new one that I could leave in the safe deposit box for my dad. Then, I quickly researched the best route to Portland, motel options along the way, and someplace to stay temporarily once I arrived there.

  The car issue was more complicated. Not only did I need to find a public place to meet and pick up the car, I wanted to take a rather complicated route there to make it more difficult for the guys to track me. Since parking would be a nightmare in downtown San Francisco, I would hop on a cable car after I stopped at the bank and then hail a cab to take me across the bay to Oakland. I found a park that supposedly had free parking available and decided it would have to do.

  I didn’t have time to e-mail a bunch of people and wait for them to respond, so I had to find someone who actually posted a phone number on Craigslist. After skimming several pages of cars, I found one that looked promising—a Civic with high mileage and chipping paint. It wasn’t the prettiest, but I just needed it to be reliable enough to get me the six hundred and fifty miles to Portland. And, since the owner listed his phone number, at least I had a chance of getting ahold of him right away.

  I jotted down the number, along with a few back-ups in case I didn’t reach the Civic owner, then made my way to the front desk, wishing I had already picked up another burner phone. Although I could
technically use the Batphone, I didn’t want to chance it absent an emergency.

  Noticing a girl about my age organizing books at the far end of the desk, I approached her with a smile. “Hello. Is there any way I can use the phone? It’s really important.”

  Stacey, according to her nametag, glanced toward several other employees nearby and then shook her head. “Sorry, it’s against policy.”

  My smile dropped. “Oh, okay. Thanks anyway.”

  When I started to walk away, she said, “But you can borrow my cell, if you’d like.” She pulled a phone out of her pocket and held it my way.

  Surprised, I asked, “Are you sure? I’ll have to take it outside for a few minutes.”

  Stacey raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the case in my hand. “If you leave that as collateral, I trust that you’ll be back.”

  I hesitated, not wanting to let the guitar out of my sight for even a moment, but ultimately agreed. Since she was a library employee, it was doubtful she would disappear with it, especially since I would have her phone.

  After exchanging the guitar for Stacey’s phone, I told her I would be back shortly, then stepped outside. I checked the time and mentally calculated how long it would take to walk to the bank and then make it to the park in Oakland. It was already almost three-thirty, so I decided to give myself at least two hours in case traffic was a problem.

  I dialed the number and prayed that the owner of the car would miraculously answer on the first try. Of course he didn’t, so I left an urgent message, asking him to call me back as soon as possible. I waited about ten minutes and sighed in relief when the phone lit up with his number. The call went shockingly well, and he agreed to meet me at five-thirty.