Page 3 of Touch the Stars (Ghara Empire #1)

Kaitlyn Bergh.

“H ey, asshole!” She slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel horn.

The semi-truck didn’t even slow down its shift into her lane. This was a contest her little blue hatchback would lose. They’d find it crushed between the big rig and the freeway guardrail, just like her parents’ car fifteen years ago.

Shit!

She gripped the steering wheel as if her life depended upon it—because it did—and gave a hard jerk right.

Oh, hey, no guardrail!

Just a concrete curb and a bunch of “freeway beautifying” oleander trees. Her tax dollars at work. She smashed her right foot onto the brake pedal, sending the entire frame of the vehicle into convulsive tremors as the brakes locked.

Skreeeeeek! Th-thump!

“Oof.” Found the curb.

The car rattled to a stop, fully on the shoulder. Well, sort of on the shoulder, but mostly over the curb and in the oleanders, but who was counting?

She moved her gaze ahead. The fucking truck driver continued barreling down the freeway as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t almost killed her.

“Dickhead. God. I. Hate . Los Angeles.”

Actually, it was cities in general that were shitty. Cities meant lots of people. Lots of people meant lots of traffic. And lots of traffic meant lots of dumb asshat drivers, like the one who’d just run her off the freeway.

People couldn’t be trusted, especially with her life. She hadn’t survived twenty-seven years to cash it in now. How her sister stood living in this sort of insanity was a mystery.

An invisible band squeezed her heart with the same white-knuckled intensity as her hands gripped the steering wheel.

It’d been a whole month since Kristyn disappeared somewhere between her condo in L.A.

and Kait’s, in Azura Palms. Vanished, without a trace.

A fun sisters’ weekend had turned into a nightmare, full of flashbacks of the day their parents had died.

Until a random hiker found Kris’s car, two hell-filled weeks later.

Five miles off the highway, in the middle of the desert.

No tire tracks, no footprints. No luggage.

No Kris. It was like the car had been picked up by a giant and set down again somewhere else.

Who was to say that Kris wasn’t living her own nightmare?

She rested her forehead against the top curve of the steering wheel. Her sister was somewhere. They were identical twins, for Christ’s sake. If Kris had died, she would’ve felt something, right?

I can’t give up hope.

Even though Kris would’ve packed only a few days’ worth of insulin. That would’ve run out by now. How did one identical twin get a rare medical condition, but not the other?

“Stop thinking about that.”

She raised her head, blew out a gusty sigh, then forced her fingers to uncurl from their death-grip.

The truth was, being alone—the last surviving member of her family—was terrifying.

It’d been her and Kris since Mom and Dad’s accident.

The two of them against the world, surviving a parade of shitty foster homes, their wild teenage years, and a round of rehab.

Through all of it, they’d had each other to lean on. Graduating college and landing their first real jobs had been major victories, as if they’d arrived and everything would be okay. Now, the possibility she was really alone… Her seven years of sobriety were in serious danger.

“Don’t be a fuck-head, Bergh. Just get your ass home. The meat loaf in the fridge ain’t gonna last another day, you know.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. What she needed was to talk to Kris, and there was only one place she could do that. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“You got this, girl.”

Get through L.A., stop in the middle of nowhere to talk to Kris, then go home and eat. No sweat. She flipped on her turn signal, checked over her shoulder, then eased back into L.A. rush-hour traffic.

Three congestion-filled hours later, the exit sign to the Azura Palms cutoff loomed out of the darkness. Her belly grumbled as she guided her little car along the offramp, the headlights cutting through the clear desert night.

Should’ve stopped for dinner.

That meat loaf at home hadn’t been that great to begin with, anyway. And the stale granola bar from the glove compartment hadn’t helped her hunger pangs much either.

She guided the car onto the little two-lane road toward Azura Palms, the red-headed stepsister of Palm Springs.

Okay, it wasn’t that bad. The people were nice, her job paid well, and there was next to no traffic.

Plus, the perks of working for the little county airport just outside of town, like getting her pilot’s license.

Boy, Kris sure had freaked out about that one. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her sister always had been the responsible twin. The caretaker. The “mother” to her “obstinate child.”

She moved her foot from the gas pedal to the brake, slowing the car as she angled it toward the shoulder. Gravel and sand crunching under tires made the loneliness of the desert at night more pronounced. This was it, the place where Kristyn had disappeared.

There was no proof it was the exact spot, but her heart felt it. Some people called that a “twin thing.” A huff escaped. More like a sixth sense of the person she’d been closest to since conception.

Her stomach gave another gurgling complaint, like a whining two-year-old.

“Fine. Just a short visit, okay?”

She killed the engine, wrapped her fingers around the metal door-lever, then gave the door a shoulder-shove. It opened with a cringe-worthy creak of protesting metal. One of these days she’d get the hinges fixed, or oiled. Whatever.

The velvet warmth of the desert night caressed her skin, and the scents of sage and dust rose around her, soothing her jangled nerves. The sound of the car door closing seemed muted and small in the vast, open space.

She climbed onto the warm car hood, drew her knees to her chest, and stared up at the glorious expanse of the Milky Way.

Sometimes the view made her feel inconsequential in the grand scheme of the universe.

But if the whole “butterfly fluttering its wings in Timbuktu affecting the weather over the Atlantic” saying was true, then maybe each and every human being on Earth could affect what happened in other places in the universe.

We are more powerful than we think.

How many times had Kris said that to her? She fingered the half-heart charm on her necklace with “ Sisters ” engraved on it. Kris wore the other half.

“Where are you, Kris? I feel you. You’re still affecting my life.” Stinging tears blurred the crystal-clear stars. “God damn , I miss you. You’re in so much fucking trouble right now, I just know it. And I can’t help you.”

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she brushed them away with the backs of her hands. A distant pair of headlights appeared way down the road, coming from the direction of town.

“So, sis.” She ran her tongue over her lips.

“I finished moving your stuff into storage and closed up your condo today. I’ll put it on the market next week.

Hope you don’t mind…I know how much you love that place.

But I can’t afford two mortgage payments—ya really should’ve thought about that before ditching on me.

” She huffed a laugh. “Anyway, I guess you’ll just have to stay with me when you get back. ”

The headlights brightened as they drew closer. Someone leaving Azura Palms and heading for the highway, obviously.

“It’ll be fun, living together again, y’know.

You can stay as long as you want. Until you find another condo—a better condo.

” She sniffled and let out a watery laugh.

“Don’t worry, as much as I want my own little Cessna, I will put the money from your condo into a separate account.

Your ‘Kris’s New Condo Next Door to Kait Downpayment’ account. ”

The soft rumble of the engine attached to the headlights filled the night, and the vehicle slowed as it passed her. Tan, two dark blue stripes along the side, and a star shield on the driver’s door. One of the county sheriff’s SUVs.

Please keep going .

The sound of tires turning and the flash of headlights proved her prayer wasn’t going to be answered.

Of course, whoever was on patrol would want to investigate a lone woman sitting on her car hood in the middle of the desert.

For all the officer knew, she could be stranded.

A moment later, a high-powered flashlight found her.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” A man’s voice, but not Sheriff Garcia’s.

She was familiar with the sheriff’s voice, as he was involved in the investigation of Kris’s disappearance. This was probably one of the deputy sheriffs she hadn’t met yet.

“I’m fine.” She squinted over her shoulder then raised one hand to shield her eyes. “Could you turn that thing somewhere else before you fry my eyeballs?”

“Ms. Bergh?” Concern and curiosity laced his question, then the flashlight beam lowered as far as her neck.

Great, he’d recognized her as one of the Bergh twins, and was now trying to ID her by the birthmark she had but Kris didn’t. Because everyone who watched the news knew that.

“Not the missing Bergh, Deputy.” Just the one left behind. The one who wasn’t dying.

“Ma’am.” The officer lowered the beam to the asphalt. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Deputy…?”

“Long, ma’am.” He tipped the brim of his hat with one finger, raising it enough to reveal a hint of the tight-weaved cornrows underneath.

“Thank you, Deputy Long.”

Please don’t ask me to get in my car and move on.

He seemed like a good guy—young, too, pretty close to her age—so maybe he’d be sympathetic.

Deputy Long shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. Yeah, not that sympathetic, apparently.

“Don’t worry, Deputy. I just need five more minutes, then I’ll head home. I promise.”

“Five minutes?”

“I swear.”