Ford Security

by Clara Kendrick

  “Not quite,” I smirk. “Subtract about another twelve years.”

  “You’re old enough to be my dad.” She pushes the cup towards me. “But I still think you’re kind of cute.”

  I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for that.” I reach for a straw and thrust it into the plastic lid.

  She leans across the counter and chews into her lip. “I’m older than I look.”

  “Really?” I scratch nervously at the back of my head before flipping open my wallet to grab a twenty. “You look like you’re sixteen.”

  “No.” She chuckles, continues to bite into her lip like she’s some young seductress who doesn’t know when to stop. “I’m twenty-two.”

  “I’d ask to see proof if I were interested.”

  She levels her elbows against the counter and narrows her eyes at me. My eyes shift to her perky breasts constrained by a low-cut white apron with a lemon emoji in the center of her stomach.

  “The lemonade is on the house.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.” I push the money back into my wallet and take a measured step back. “You have a wonderful day.” I pivot on my feet to begin walking away.

  “Can I at least get your name?” she yells from behind me. “I’d love to Facebook stalk you or something.”

  Weird. Thankfully my online presence is extremely limited. As in it’s non-existent. I cock my head over my shoulder and pass her a crooked wink. “Chase Carter.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

  “It’s up to you if you want to believe me.” I mouth my lips over the straw and take a long gulp before waving goodbye.

  # # #

  Amazing. Delicious. Sweet, yet perfectly sour. The absolute best. Those are just a few of the adjectives I’d use to describe the taste of the lemonade melting against the back of my throat. It’s as if the lemonade itself was cut, stirred, and shaken at a small town carnival.

  It’s just about the only thing I miss about the place I grew up.

  Small towns were never quite my thing. I joined the military to see the world, that and to blow some shit up. Once I retired from the service, I never looked back at the small town that turned me into the man I am today.

  Here in the city, everything I could ever desire is within a short drive from my home. It’s the best of all worlds, especially on days like today when I come across an inconspicuous lemonade stand.

  I slurp through the straw and finish off the rest of the lemonade in one long purge. On my way out the sliding glass doors, I toss the paper cup into a trash can and let out a lowly burp.

  I make a left to head towards the far left wall of the parking garage to where I’m ninety-four percent positive I parked my car when I arrived. What is it about parking garages that always make people forget just where they parked? Even for someone like me, who is known for their almost photographic memory, I often find myself lost in the labyrinths that are parking garages.

  A car screeches past me blaring some borderline offensive rap music, the bass of which pulses through my brain. I take a hard right into the aisle ahead, remembering that perhaps I didn’t park where I initially thought. I dig my keys from my pocket and move to press the panic alarm when something catches my attention.

  A tall, thin woman with dark hair being dragged backwards by a man wearing all black, and another woman being pulled in the other direction by a man also dressed in some gothic-colored clothing.

  I don’t think about what I’m about to do. I never think. That’s the problem. As smart as I am, as calculating as I can be, too often I just jump into action without second thought for my own well-being or safety.

  Kicking ass and taking names has been my life’s motto since I was merely a toddler on the daycare playground. Looking back, I suppose it was always destined that I’d become a soldier. What I did afterwards, after two tours overseas, was do what I’d always done.

  Save people.

  See, I had the intention of disappearing back into the life of a normal civilian, but I suppose that was never really in the cards. Not for someone like me. And when someone like me meets men like these, well…

  These men? They’re about to have a really bad day. A much worse day than I’m about to have.

  I jet between two parked cars and hop a caged metal railing, landing hard against the concrete just in between the two alleged kidnappers and their victims.

  The first man, the one holding his hand muffled over one of the women’s mouth pushes his victim to the ground and races forward.

  Poor guy.

  He throws a fist in my direction, but I manage to dodge the blow, countering with an elbow to the back of his neck. He drops to the ground, twists on his back and jumps back to his feet.

  With one kick of my leg outwards, he’s landing back against the hard surface, his bones cracking beneath him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the woman recovering to her feet.

  “Get out of here,” I scream to her and she seems to do as told, shuffling backwards and then cutting sharply around the corner and out of sight. I twist back to the other man, still holding his victim tight around the waist.

  He digs into his pocket, to grab a gun? To grab a knife? A pacifier perhaps? I don’t give him enough time to show me what he’s about to do.

  I rush forward, my palm clenched in a fist. My eyes tangle with the woman’s, a stormy emerald green. With nothing more than our eyes, I manage to tell her all she needs to know, which is to duck out of the way.

  And that she does.

  She juts her head sideways, giving me the perfect opportunity to punch the man squarely in the nose. He stumbles backwards, his grip on the woman freeing enough so that she’s able to race forward to take shelter behind me.

  “You’re about to have a bad day,” I warn the man, but before I know it his hands are gripped tight around my throat.

  He pushes me backwards, hard against the cement support columns. My head cracks against the hardness and just this once, I’m regretting letting my mouth distract me from the task at hand.

  I thrust my arms upwards against the bottom of his arms. It’s just enough to force him to release his grip on me. He’s a damn amateur and he’s lucky that he’s going to be spending time behind prison bars because the hospital bills I’m about to mail to him are going to astronomical.

  I knee him in the stomach, forcing him to hunch over slightly. His body fumbling forward gives me the perfect opportunity to deliver another blow, this time to his chin.

  I wince when I hear the bones in his face cracking, but it’s not that I feel bad. After all, he’s a worthless piece of tar who deserves everything that’s coming his way.

  Tires screech in the near distance from the lane just over.

  “Where’s my sister?” the woman questions from behind me, her tone leveled with panic and worry.

  “Your sister?” I cock a brow as I twist to face her, not believing I hadn’t noticed the similarities before. They’re both tall brunettes with dark emerald eyes, beautifully cut facial features, and slim bodies.

  So not the point.

  My eyes race sideways trying to spot her sister.

  “Shit,” I mumble under my breath.

  “What?”

  But before I can respond, I’m leaping back into action, jumping over the same fence from before and cutting back across the aisles. Tires screech again as a dark black SUV with tinted windows careens into the aisle ahead, almost running over the woman’s sister in the process.

  I race forward, my heart pounding against my chest. Each breath I take is more ragged than the next, because I know what’s about to happen and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Instinctively, I reach for my gun but it’s not there.

  Of course it isn’t. I foolishly believed I could ever get a day off from my work and left it in the glove department of my car.

  The back door of the SUV juts open and before I can do anything about it, the sister is ripped into the backseat. She le
ts out a blood-curdling scream as the door is pulled shut.

  The other woman races from behind me and jumps out into the middle of the parking garage, waving her hands in the air.

  “Move,” I scream, but she doesn’t comply.

  “Stop!” She throws both hands outwards, pleading with these men to let her sister go. She should know better. I assume she does know better, but she’s too distressed to understand those men are about to run her over.

  I rush towards her, throwing the weight of my body against her. I make sure to hold her tight against my chest as I twist in mid-air so that it’s my back breaking our fall.

  The SUV races past us, the hot fumes of the exhaust a harrowing reminder that the both of us were a mere second away from hospitalization, or even death.

  She struggles against me, but I continue to hold her tight. There’s no point in giving chase. On foot? They’ve already outran us. In the time it would take to get into my car, they’d be long gone.

  She jabs my chest with a sharp blow of her elbow against me and manages to slip away from me as she climbs to her feet. She screams as she charges down the narrow aisle, “Taylor!”

  I climb to my own feet with a painful groan, my back letting out a splitting crack, and give chase to her, coming to a rest behind her a moment later.

  She hunches over, her chest and back heaving. And in the moment, I want nothing more than to protect her, but this is a job best left for the authorities.

  You know, the people with actual badges.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SUMMER

  It’s a dream, a bad nightmare.

  It isn’t real.

  It’s a movie that I’m watching and I can’t find the remote to turn it off.

  I’m hunched over, fighting for my breath, fighting to claw my way out of the nightmare I’ve found myself in. My heart races, beats against my chest as if it’s about to break free from the mortal cage of bone and flesh.

  I feel the shadow of the man who saved me—but couldn’t save my sister—pass over me. Then, I see his shadow and for all I care, as thankful as I should be, I can’t help but to pass some of the blame onto him.

  It’s not right. Even in the heat of the moment, I know that to be true. I have enough of my wits to be able to piece together the pieces of the puzzle that matter, but on some level I’m angry because he saved me instead of Taylor.

  She’s gone.

  I dig into my pocket to retrieve my phone, and though it’s cracked from the struggle, it’s still working. My fingers fumble against the glass surface of the screen. It’s only three numbers—911—but I keep screwing up.

  And then my phone rings, and for a split second all the worry in the world fades from my mind and body. It’s Taylor’s face on my screen. I slide to answer the phone, “Taylor?”

  “You wish it was Taylor,” a man says through the phone, his voice dark and husky, sounding almost like it’s being filtered through a computer system.

  “Who…” I stumble over my own words. “Who is this?”

  “You will never know, but if you want to see your sister alive, you will do exactly as you’re told.”

  “Okay,” I say weakly, lowly under my breath. “What do you want?” I question as the man’s shadow hangs over me.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this and it wasn’t going to be like this until that man arrived,” he says, and I twist to face my protector. “But now it is like this, and so we’re going to need some time to piece together a plan, and in the meantime, you are going to stay silent. We are monitoring all local police channels and if you contact the authorities in any way, you’re going to be fishing your sister’s body out of the river.” There’s a break of eerie silence, and in the wake of the absence of the man’s voice, I break from within, swallowing nervously as I wait for him to continue with the instructions. “Keep your phone on you and we’ll be in contact later tonight. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say and nod my head. “I understand.”

  Click. The line goes dead and it’s like I’m standing in a vacuum. The full weight of the situation we’ve found ourselves in hasn’t exactly hit with full brunt force yet and it’s almost like I’m numb.

  I drop my phone to my side but continue to hold it tightly. Though it’s cracked, it’s still working and at the present it’s the only lifeline I have left to my sister.

  “What did they say?” the man questions as he steps in front of me with a severe look on his face. He’s dark and tan with short hair cut across the top of his head, wearing a black shirt and dark jeans. And I only notice this because I’m trying to remember every detail of the situation. Soon enough, I realize it’s not this man’s facial features I should be remembering but rather the men who have abducted my sister.

  And I can’t recall a thing other than they, too, were wearing dark black clothing. I can’t remember the slightest detail of their faces.

  “What did they say?” he questions again, this time lifting me at the chin with one strong hand.

  When my eyes meet his, I’m lost in his dark chocolate eyes. Lost in my thoughts, lost in the terror of the moment.

  “Th… They said that if I want to see my sister alive to not contact the police and they’ll call me later tonight with more details.” I gasp for air. The temperature in my body runs cold. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He sighs and exhales a breath of hot air. “I think you should come with me.”

  “What about the police?”

  “I think you should come with me.”

  “Who are you?” I question finally, taking a measured step back. Could it be that he’s in on whatever’s going on? After all, he’s dressed just about the same as the men who took Taylor. “Are you with those men?”

  “I’m Chase Carter,” he says lowly.

  “No, I mean, who are you?” I cock my head at him. “Where did you come from?” I shake my head, trying to understand why a perfect stranger would interfere the way he did. “Why did you—?”

  “I’ll explain in the car,” he interrupts me and takes a step forward, closing off the distance between us. “But I think I can help you and your sister.”

  I nod gently, taking in his offer. And it doesn’t take much time at all to accept his assistance. No matter who he is, I figure it’s better than me being out here alone. And if he’s somehow involved in this, well that’s just a possibility I’m going to have to accept.

  “I’m Summer Smart, by the way.”

  # # #

  The highway is a slow-rolling parking lot. It’s stop and go, and every time he touches the brake, there’s a silent bit of hope burning through the knots twisted in my stomach that I’m about to wake from this nightmare.

  My eyes drift aimlessly at the sea of cars merging onto the highway to the right and the traffic moving in the opposite direction at a much faster rate.

  I look at each and every car wondering if Taylor could be on this very same highway. The odds, I suppose, are probable. But that doesn’t mean I stand a chance in hell at finding her right now. Just ahead of us, a black SUV merges in front of the car ahead of us.

  My heart sinks into my gut.

  That’s the same car from earlier.

  The brake lights on the car ahead of us light up, painting the asphalt beneath us in a red glow underneath the bright, hot sun. We too come to a standstill.

  My heart races, screaming for me to make my move. I crane my head over to Chase Carter—if that’s even his name—to find him idling in his thoughts the same way we’re now idling in traffic. His face is carved in all the right spots with a sharp jawline and afternoon stubble coloring his chin in dark stubble.

  I could throw up as I reach for the door handle. Just as I move to push the door open, his eyes catch mine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have to,” I say desperately before throwing the door open and jumping out of the car. My feet slam against the hard surface beneath me as I race past the car ah
ead of us and straight for the black SUV.

  Without so much as thinking, I rip the back door of the SUV open and freeze in place when I’m met with the visage of two toddlers in car seats.

  From the front seat, a woman wearing a pair of pastel yellow scrubs turns and screams at me in Spanish.

  “I… I’m sorry.” I push the door closed and turn to flee, running right into Chase’s strong chest.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He grabs me by the arm and pulls me back to his car while the traffic ahead of us begins to move again. “Assuming that was even who you thought it was, what were you planning on doing?”

  “I don’t know,” I shriek as he rips open the door and ushers me inside. “Maybe I thought…”

  Horns honk from behind us as cars begin to pass us on either side. Chase slams the door shut and races back to the driver’s seat. As soon as he pulls his door closed, we begin to accelerate, the tires beneath us squealing against the asphalt.

  “You could have been killed.”

  That word killed cuts right through me as if it’s a serrated blade, slicing me open and leaving me to bleed out. “I know that…”

  “I understand you’re under a lot of stress. I know what it’s like.” He turns to me, and though I’m not looking at him, I can see him from the corner of my eye. The way he looks at me, it’s like he’s passing me a pitiful look as if I’m a wounded puppy. “Your world has just been changed forever, and I know it’s next to impossible right now, but you have to force yourself to stay grounded.”

  I finally manage to look at him fully, but at this point his attention is already back on the road ahead. We’re surrounded by stop-and-go traffic, moving almost as slow as my world that’s come to a complete standstill.

  I think about Rick, Taylor’s husband. I should call him and let him know what’s going on, but he’s never been a patient man and he’d probably alert the authorities. It feels so sick keeping something like this from him or from our parents.

  Oh God. A single tear bleeds from my eye, tracing a path down my cold, pale cheek. It’s been a year and I still sometimes forget that they’re both gone. That thought alone is sobering. For better or worse, it’s just me and this man who promises that he can help.