Ford Security

by Clara Kendrick

  I wet my lips, trying to think of the best way to put it, or if I should even tell him the truth at all. I resolve that it’s best to just be upfront with him. “As soon as you left earlier, I received a threatening message.”

  “From whom?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and exhale sharply. “But whomever it was, knew you were here, and they said there would be bloodshed if I didn’t let you go.” I look away from him and purse my lips. “I was worried about my friend’s safety, but she’s left the city for a few nights, so do me a favor and let’s try and to put an end to this before she returns.”

  “I’ll try my damnedest.”

  “Thank you.” I offer him a warm smile. “Now goodnight, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Yeah, goodnight to you too, Ella.”

  I nod at him before crossing the living room and entering into my bedroom. I push the door to a close behind me but leave it cracked just slightly so that the faintest sliver of light can make its way inside.

  # # #

  After I undressed and climbed into something more appropriate, I crawled into bed and took refuge under the thin covers. That was a good thirty minutes ago.

  Though I’m tired, I still can’t bring myself to fall asleep. Instead, I stare at the wall adjacent to the bed where the light pools in through the cracked door. Like a puppet show, I can see Luke moving about the living room, pacing back and forth.

  I roll over in bed, pull the covers tight over my body and exhale sharply as I stare up at the same crack of light painted across the ceiling. And still his shadow moves, like it’s taunting me or something. Like he should be in here with me and not out there.

  I try and force that thought from my head. On top of being wildly inappropriate, it’s illogical and probably verging on unethical. I need sleep though because I haven’t gotten a lot of it in the past few weeks and these past few nights especially.

  I finally develop brass balls or something and call out for him, “Luke?”

  “Yeah?” It takes him no time at all to stick his head through the cracked door, his fingers holding onto the wood. His eyes hang low as they bore into my soul. “What?

  “Don’t look at me that way.” I cock my head away from him and sigh.

  “I don’t think I’m looking at you any particular type of way.”

  “Don’t look at me with pity in your eyes.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s just me looking tired.”

  I push myself up in bed, hold my covers tight around my body. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Didn’t we already negotiate this?”

  “No.” I swallow nervously, not sure if I’m ready to ask him this question. “I mean…stay with me.”

  He swallows and shifts in place just slightly. He looks at me with pity or something equally embarrassing. Finally, he nods and takes a careful step forward. “Okay.”

  “We don’t need to make it awkward.”

  “No awkwardness.”

  I nod at him, as he approaches the empty side of the bed. He sits down on the edge, pushing the mattress down on his end as he kicks his shoes off and then swings his feet onto the bed.

  We made a pact that there would be no awkwardness. Well, it’s only been about thirteen seconds or so, and it’s already awkward. He’s not helping matters, either. He lies on his back with his hands folded on his chest. He’s wearing a tee shirt and boxers, and he’s not making any effort whatsoever to pull the blankets over his barely clothed body. I roll back over onto my side with my back facing him and close my eyes. As soon as I do so, he too shifts in the bed, rolling onto his side and I can feel his hot breath right up against my neck.

  I’d almost forgotten what it feels like to have someone lying in bed with me. This bed itself has never felt the weight of two bodies. It’s been easier that way, easier waking up and going to bed alone. Relationships, no matter if they’re one-night stands or something more, require too much time and energy. They require one to open up and let someone in, and with the bones buried in my proverbial closet, it’s never been worth the risk, even if they’re not necessarily my personal skeletons.

  Never been worth the risk until now. Maybe that’s because I feel like I’m always in danger, like there’s someone always watching me. Like I could wake up tomorrow and it could be the day I die. I push myself backwards in the bed until the warmth of my body encroaches into his personal space, and then I push myself back just a little bit further until our bodies are pressed together.

  I fully expect him to move, either away from me or into me. He does neither. Instead, he remains still all the while his breathing becomes more hitched and ragged, at this point he’s practically blowing hot fire against my sensitive flesh.

  I force my eyes closed once more, thinking I could get use to this feeling. He shifts behind me and just when I think he’s going to pull away, he throws one arm over my side and holds onto me at the stomach. He lets out a lowly sigh and nuzzles his head against my neck, and this is probably the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be. Not because I’m some untouched virgin, but because safety has become the one luxury in this life that’s managed to evade me.

  I have everything a materialistic girl could ever want, and now I have something worth more than everything I own. I feel safe in his arms, and I pray that this night never ends.

  But my eyes betray me, eyelids falling over my eyes until all I see is the pitch-black darkness that surrounds me just before I fall into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LUKE

  I hadn’t pegged her to be a snorer, but boy was I wrong. Her nostrils flare as she takes in sharp inhale after sharp inhale, her mouth hanging open every step of the way. It’s not that it’s an unattractive quality—she has no control over the angry-sounding roars slipping out of her mouth. People snore. It’s a fact of life. I’ve been told that I can snore louder than a dragon on occasion, but that’s usually only when I’m very tired.

  In that regard, she must be beyond tired. She had said as much earlier. She had said she was having trouble sleeping. The thing is though that she doesn’t look that tired. Sure, there are bags under her eyes and her face is a haunted pale color, but she’s remarkably beautiful—sexy, even—for a woman who hasn’t been sleeping much in weeks. If the shoes were reversed, I’d easily be mistaken for someone who should have been put into a nursing home by his children.

  As carefully as I can, I retrieve my arm from around her warm body. She rustles slightly as my arm brushes her arm, but she’s too far in a deep sleep to be woken up easily. Once I’m free from holding her, I sit up in bed and stare down at her. Light filters into the room through the cracked door, highlighting her face in a pale yellow hue, just enough so that I can see how peaceful she looks while she sleeps.

  When she’s awake, it’s easy to see her as an ice queen, but when she’s sleeping, it’s like she’s a different person. There’s an innocence in the way she looks at total peace, and that’s in despite of the snoring that’s being thrown from her throat.

  The woman I see here before me is a woman I can trust. Unfortunately, I still have suspicions that her story doesn’t add up, and I’m hopefully about to find out why. I just hope that I don’t end up finding out that she’s the one who’s been sending me texts. I slide out of bed as quietly as I can, grab my shoes off the floor, and sneak out of the room, closing the door gently behind me.

  # # #

  I check the watch on my wrist as I approach the pawn shop. It’s now a little after midnight, but I had noticed earlier that there was a red neon-lit sign that specified the shop was open twenty-four hours a day.

  I ready myself before pulling open the door by straightening my posture. I’m a military man, and I know how to make myself look a certain way. In this instance, I need to come off as if I’m in control.

  The door creaks as I swing it open and step inside. The man of the hour is sitting on his stool behind the counter.

  As soon as
I see him, I think back to the first time I saw him, when he had his hands around Ella’s throat. I wanted to kill him back then, but I need to remain calm and measured in my approach. I’m looking for honesty, and I’m hoping he gives me just that without me having to bash his brains in. He’s got one black eye and a cracked nose all ready. Maybe I could do a favor and give him another black eye so at least they’d match.

  He looks up to meet my gaze, and I’m not going to lie, I take great pleasure in watching his throat tense. He’s nervous, and he should be. Guys like him are punks. They think they’re big and bad until they’re confronted by someone like me. They can knock woman around all they want and still call themselves a man, but I don’t see a man at all. I see a little boy about to piss his pants, and it takes everything within me to refrain from chuckling.

  He drops his hand underneath the counter, giving me no choice but to draw my gun from the holster. As quick as a flash of lightning, I’ve got my gun aimed squarely at his head. “You might want to think twice before you try something stupid.”

  He swallows a nervous lump in his throat and slowly, very slowly, raises his hands in the air like this is a robbery or something. The only thing I plan on leaving here with though is information to help me figure out just what the hell is going on. My spider-sense is tingling, and it’s saying that this man has something to do with it.

  “What do you want from me, man?” he questions, holding himself as still as possible. “I’m sorry for putting my hands on that girl.”

  “That girl, huh?” I begin a slow, deliberate pace towards him until I reach the counter and poke the gun against his skull. “Is she just a girl, or do you know her?”

  “I don’t know her.” He swallows again, his throat is the only part of his body moving. That and his lips. “But I think you have bigger fish to fry because I think that girl’s in trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I quip. “Why was she here?”

  “You know as much as I do man. She came here for a gun.”

  “See, the funny thing is that I don’t buy that story. I don’t think a girl like her would show up to a random place like this, so I’m going to need you to be honest with me, or I’m going to pull the trigger.”

  “I don’t know anything,” he growls, firm in his conviction. His eyes trail to the side and then past me.

  I take a measured step backwards and take a quick glance over my shoulder to see a shadow passing by the filthy window with metal bars in it. I turn back to him and wave the gun towards the back room. “Let’s take this in the back.”

  “Okay, man.” He nods and shifts sideways off the stool. His feet land against the hard surface, eliciting a creak from the old and decaying floors. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Nobody has to get hurt,” I say to him and then wave my gun again, gesturing for him to move. “As long as you answer my questions, then you’re going to live to see sunrise.”

  So, here’s the thing, I have no intention of killing this man. That’s not who I am. Of course, I’ve taken many lives, but those were mostly overseas during my multiple tours in Iraq. The cost of taking a human life is great; it chips away at your soul until you’re not sure anything is left. This scumbag isn’t worth me losing a piece of my soul. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just beat him senseless.

  I follow him into the backroom, ducking through the long black curtains. He holds his hands above his head as he guides me just past the place I had assaulted him earlier. I’m met with instant flashbacks of seeing Ella fighting to breathe while this son of a bitch had his hands around her throat. Rage courses through my veins, and I have to steady myself and remind myself why I’m here.

  He pivots on his feet to face me and finally drops his hands. He’s shaking scared, which is hilarious considering the fact that this pawn shop is a front for all sorts of illegal, black-market activity. This man has probably dealt with some of the absolute worst people in this city, or hell in this world, and he’s terrified of me. I’m just a good guy with a gun. I can’t say the same for the next guy who walks through those same doors looking for a gun.

  I drag a stool from between two racks and take a seat. I lower my gun just enough so that it’s no longer in his face—it’ll give him a sense of security and might just make him open up more than if I was openly being hostile, still holding the gun in his face. Don’t be mistaken though, the gun is still aimed squarely at him. And if he’s like any other man I know, he’d rather take a bullet to the head than where the gun’s currently aimed at.

  “We’re going to have a simple conversation, you and I.” I wave the gun towards another stool parked directly behind him. “Take a seat and let’s begin.”

  He doesn’t hesitate, falling backwards onto the stool to meet me at eye level.

  “Let me just get this disclaimer out of the way. I was born with an innate gift for sensing bullshit.” I hook my eyes at him. “You’ve got three strikes, and when you run out of chances, you’re going to take a cap to the knee. Do you understand?”

  He nods but doesn’t say a word. I take this nonverbal cue as a verbal confirmation that he understands that I’m being serious. Sweat forms where his hair cuts against his forehead, and I think to myself, Hell, this might be easier than I thought it’d be.

  “Do you know Ella?” I begin the interrogation with the simplest question.

  “I just met her today,” he lies straight through his damned teeth.

  I cock the gun and lower my aim to his kneecap. “Remember what I said about bullshit? Well, that’s your first strike. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Do you—?”

  “Yes,” he interrupts me with an impassioned plea hitched across his lips. “I know her.”

  “How?”

  “Come on, man,” he begs. “Don’t make me do this.”

  “I’ll consider that strike two.” I shrug my shoulders with apathy. “You’re really not off to a good start.”

  “Fine,” he huffs. “We used to date.”

  I have a hard time believing that, even though I sense that he’s telling the truth. There’s just something about the fact that he’s one strike away from losing a kneecap that makes me think he’s finally playing along. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “You asked me for the truth, so I’m giving it to you.” He exhales and drops his head. “It was a long time ago, and to be honest, I don’t know her anymore and she doesn’t know me, so it was a surprise when she showed up here earlier. But she knew of my illicit activities so someone must have told her.”

  “Is that all you know?”

  “She’s in some deep shit, man.” He narrows his eyes in on me. “Some real deep shit, and I don’t know how this is all going to play out, but if I were you, I wouldn’t leave her alone right now.”

  I climb to my feet and aim the gun at his head. I grip the butt of the gun real tight and push it right between his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

  “No, no, no.” He flinches, closes his eyes tightly. “I swear, man. It’s just the word on the street that she’s in some deep shit.”

  “How deep?” I sigh and drop the gun to my side, taking a measured step back so that he doesn’t have the chance to do anything he’s going to live to regret.

  “You’re going to have to ask her that question because I don’t know specifics.” He pushes his hair out of his face. “She might say she doesn’t know what’s going on, but deep down she knows. She has to know because people don’t find themselves running from someone for no reason.”

  Yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking. “Today’s your lucky day. You get to live”

  He nods and swallows roughly before I turn my back on him with the intention of leaving this shop behind and never stepping foot back inside. I’ve gotten what I came here for, but…

  “One last question,” I say, cocking my head over my shoulder. “Do you think you got what you deserved?”

  “Wh… What do you mean?”

  “
Earlier, when I came here and you had your hands on her.” I twist to face him fully. “Did you get what you deserved?”

  “Yes,” he spits out, nods his head. “Absolutely.”

  “I see.” I chew into my bottom lip, fighting an internal battle to not knock the shit out of him one last time. It’s a battle I lose, and before I can even force myself to change my mind, I’m backhanding him in the face with the barrel of the gun. He stumbles backwards into a floor-to-ceiling metal shelf and then falls onto the floor. “You deserve so much more than that, and I promise that’s just what you’re going to get if you ever lay your hands on a woman again.” He just stares at me, blood trickling out of his nose. It looks like he’s about to zone out, so I decide to give him a helpful little hint. “You should probably go to the doctor and get your head checked for a concussion.”

  And then I leave him there to think about his choices. Armed with new information, I’m one step closer to finding out the truth, but something tells me I still have a long way to go to figure it out.

  # # #

  My feet land against the asphalt as I close the car door behind me. I’m mulling all the endless possibilities in my mind and trying to figure out the best angle to approach Ella once she’s awake. Now that I know she used to date that creep back at the pawn shop, I can use that as leverage to try and get her to open up about her past.

  But something suspicious catches my eyes when I look up. The front door of her home is cracked open and I know for sure that I closed it when I left. I’m a careful guy. I whip my gun out of the holster and race forward. Adrenaline gets the best of me, so I’m not thinking clearly or strategically. I just kick the door all the way open with one foot and rush inside.

  I immediately hear a struggle and then see a man on top of Ella on the opposite side of the couch. He’s wearing a ski mask over his head and his hands are forced around her throat

  “Ella,” I scream, alerting both her and her attacker. They both whip their heads to look at me, but the man can’t be bothered to do anything about me, which is strange because if I were him, I’d deal with the man with the gun first.