Dead Running

by Cami Checketts

“Hiding.”

  “Why isn’t he staying with you and Nana?”

  “To keep him safe.”

  “Where does he stay?”

  I shot him a nasty look, shifting in my seat. “He doesn’t tell me that. If they find him, he’s dead.”

  His brows shot up. “What did your dad do to them?”

  “Their boss,” I corrected. “I guess Dad has seriously hampered their boss’s slave trade.”

  “Slave trade?”

  “Mexico is a lucrative spot for human trafficking. My dad fights the slavers. They want him dead.”

  Damon steepled his hands, rocking slowly back and forth. “Wow,” he muttered.

  “Yeah. Wow,” I said.

  I waited, wondering how long it would take to sink in. He wouldn’t want to date me. Who would want to be around something this nuts?

  When he didn’t say anything for several minutes, I whispered, “Do you mind taking me home? If you don’t want to, I understand. I can catch a ride with them.” I jerked my thumb towards the men watching us.

  Damon snapped from his reverie. “I’m not letting those idiots take you home.”

  I turned from his intense stare. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be with me after”

  Damon pinned my shoulders against the seat, leaned across the console, and took advantage of my mouth for several minutes. When he pulled back he threw one more glare at the men. “They can watch you all they want. It’s not going to stop me from being with you.”

  I caught a full breath. “Are you sure? I don’t want to involve you in something that could get you hurt.”

  Damon grinned. “Every time I’m with you there are more surprises. Being hurt is a lot less risky to me than not being with you.”

  I smiled in return but something felt off. Damon truly seemed to like me but was there some other reason he kept pursuing me so hard? The question gave me chills that didn’t quit long after he returned me safely to Nana’s.

  Week Fourteen

  Al’s eyes darted around the opulent office. He caught sight of several bottles of barbecue sauce decorating a side table and shivered. He’d never been invited to Ramirez’s barbecues and hoped he never would be. Al shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Staring down at Clive Ramirez left him half-exhilarated, half-terrified. Being surrounded by Clive Ramirez’s heavy hitters left him all-terrified.

  Al risked a glance at the giants leering at his nine and three o’clock. There were two more behind him and who knew how many prowling the mansion. Would he live through this interview?

  Ramirez looked up from his computer screen. He did not offer them a seat. “A million dollars. I’ve given you a million dollars and you have done nothing for me.” He spoke between lips that were so fat they looked permanently swollen. With his tawny mane of hair, shock of freckles, and lithe body he was like a lion ready to spring and tear them apart. He was terrifying without any help from his cronies.

  Suddenly the office door flung open. Nick Panetti stormed inside, his eyes darting around until they focused in on Al. “How can you keep failing to kill him?” He turned the force of his gaze on Ramirez. “Let me go get Doc.”

  Ramirez smiled slowly. “You had your chance years ago.” He softly tapped his fingers on the desk. “From what I understand, Doc’s beautiful daughter got the best of you.”

  Panetti’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll grab the girl. Nathan would come begging to trade his life for hers.”

  Ramirez held up a hand. “Please wait for me in the living room.”

  Panetti whirled and stomped from the room, slamming the door.

  Ramirez arched an eyebrow at Al as if waiting for him to grovel. “Sir,” Al began. “We are the ones who discovered Nathan Christensen is still alive. You have to let us have another chance at killing him for you.”

  Ramirez’s eyes traveled lazily over Al, a predator savoring the moment when he'd rip out the jugular. “I have to?”

  “Well, um, we would appreciate it,” Al stuttered. Terry turned to him with bright eyes. He also knew they were steps away from an ugly death.

  “You would appreciate it.” Ramirez laughed dryly. “Yes, I’m sure you would.” Ramirez clicked something on the computer screen then looked back up at them. He obviously didn’t need to stand taller than someone to intimidate them. “You shot Nathan and his wife two years ago. Nathan miraculously survived. I paid you for that blunder, as well as this one.”

  He stared until Al couldn’t resist tugging at the collar of his button-down shirt. Why had he dressed nice for his own funeral?

  “You captured Nathan last week and he got the better of you. You chased him up a canyon,” he paused to emphasize their stupidity, “and barely escaped the local police. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, ‘Three strikes you are my barbecue meat?’”

  Ramirez’s worshippers chuckled. Terry turned white as a burial shroud. Al wasn’t sure if he should drum up a sniveling reply or remain still for the pronouncement. The laughing stopped and silence reigned until he didn’t know if he could take it anymore.

  “I will allow you one more chance,” Ramirez said. “Do you know why?”

  Al shook his head, allowing himself to breathe again.

  A thin smile turned Ramirez’s fat lips. “You’ve got one more chance because you know what will happen if you mess up.” He paused, his puffy lips widening. “No mistakes this time. I have others who are steadily getting closer to Nathan’s family. If they succeed in flushing him out first . . .” He stared until Al couldn’t meet his eye anymore.

  Al grabbed Terry’s arm. “We understand.” He pulled Terry backwards out of the office, supporting his sagging partner.

  * * *

  The canyon wind bit at my bare legs. I bounced at the starting line of The Top of Utah Marathon. Damon stood by my side with Hot Redhead lurking next to him. She leaned into a hamstring stretch. I tried not to gawk, but no one looks that good with their bum to the world.

  “You promise not to try and stay with me today?” Damon asked.

  I sighed. “If I must.” I lowered my voice. “As long as you promise to ditch Hot Redhead.”

  Damon chuckled. “Done. You know I prefer brunettes.”

  I grinned. “That’s good news.” I looked around. Serious runners hedged me in on all sides. I doubted anyone else was stopping eight miles short of the finish line and hadn’t paid for the race. I was the only one without a number and timing chip. I stuck out like a hot-pink dress at a funeral. “Are you sure this is okay?”

  Damon squeezed my hand. “I know one of the sponsors. I explained you needed a safe training run.”

  I shook my head. “And convinced him to let me do a partial race?”

  “I showed him your picture on my cell phone.” Damon winked.

  Damon was such a nice guy, always helping me with my training. I’d been a little leery of him after our last date, but my dad had made sure Damon wasn’t involved with Muscle Man or any of the other scary guys chasing my dad. What a relief.

  A man with a megaphone spent a few minutes pushing the crowd behind the starting line then he raised a pistol, shot the thing, and we were off.

  I didn’t attempt to stay with Damon and surprisingly, neither did Hot Redhead. For some unknown reason, she stuck to me like peanut butter on toast.

  We cruised down Blacksmith Fork Canyon. The road was lined with mountainous walls and loads of trees. The sun crested the ridge behind us. The rays from the sun and the exertion from my run finally warmed me up. Every few minutes I glimpsed my bike-riding protectors, the same two agents from the other night. Safety was a wonderful thing. I wanted to enjoy the scenic run and relish how great my legs felt chopping up the miles, but Hot Redhead’s presence torqued me. “Damon’s up there.” I pointed down the twisting road then shooed her with my fingers. “Run along now.”

  She smiled. “Maybe I’m not interested in Damon.”

  My stomach tightened. My head darted to the side. “Okay, now t
hat terrifies me more than anything else you’ve said or done.”

  Elizabeth laughed. An actual laugh. It was as pretty as the rest of her. “I’m not interested in you, either. I’m just making sure you stay away from Damon.”

  “How you gonna do that?”

  Elizabeth strode down the road like a champ but she didn’t give me any more information.

  I concentrated on the excruciating pace Elizabeth set. Darn my pride. “So you just can’t stand Damon liking me?” I asked after several miles of silence. The day was really warming up or maybe it was my frustration with Hot Redhead, sweat dribbled down my chest, soaking my sports bra.

  That made her smile again. “Someday you’ll understand my purpose.”

  I stared at her. I didn’t like the way she was talking. All mature.

  We’d just passed the aid station at mile thirteen and shot out of the canyon onto Nibley Hollow Road when Elizabeth got it into her head to engage me in civil conversation. “Tell me about yourself.”

  I stared at the beautiful homes spaced along the roadside, towering two-story estates seeking anonymity behind lush trees and bushes. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to enjoy the scenery.”

  “Can’t we make an attempt at being friends?”

  “I think that poop went down the septic line a long time ago.”

  Her delicate brow wrinkled. “He said you have an interesting way of phrasing things.”

  My head whirled. I stared into her clear green eyes. “Who said that?” It didn’t sound like something Damon would say, but maybe. A smile grew on my face. If Damon said it that would mean he talked about me when they were out to dinner.

  “No one.” Elizabeth focused on the pavement.

  “Who said it?” I stared her down until she finally returned my gaze. “It was Damon, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Okay, yes, Damon said it. When we went to dinner.”

  “Aha.” I gloated. The surge of triumph sending power into my legs. “Damon was talking about me during dinner with you.” I could hear his voice at the start of the race. You know I prefer brunettes. Oh, I was really beginning to like that man.

  Elizabeth tossed her long, red hair but didn’t say anything for a few more miles. We approached mile sixteen and my legs were starting to feel it. Just two more miles and I would be done.

  “You never did tell me anything about yourself,” Hot Redhead said.

  I rolled my eyes. “I never could figure out why you cared.”

  “Come on,” she goaded me. “It’s a way to pass the miles.”

  I focused on regulating my breathing, but she just kept waiting and giving me these prodding glances. “Well, I’m a loan processor, but I’m going to quit soon and work in my field of expertise.” I puffed out my chest. “I have a degree in exercise science.” Elizabeth stared so I kept rattling, “I was born in Smithfield. I’ve lived with my grandma since my parents . . .” She didn’t need to know everything. I’d told her four sentences too much and she was still looking at me like my monologue disappointed her.

  I straightened my elbows and shook my arms out, pinpricks danced along my forearms. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Why you act the way you do.”

  A couple of runners passed us. I bowed my arms again and increased my pace a bit. “What do you mean? I act perfectly normal. You’re the crazy one.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’ll comment on that one. Okay, different question.”

  “You’re killing me, here,” I said, pushing a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. “Can we stop all the chitchat and just run?”

  She flipped her ponytail off her neck. “If someone was threatening to kill someone you loved, what would you do?”

  I stared at her like she’d grown blackheads and carefully enunciated each word, “You are crazy.”

  “Answer the question.”

  My sweat ran cold. “Stay away from me.” I upped my pace, tripping over my own foot. I sprawled on the ground and people rushed up to me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What did she trip on?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding.”

  I grunted and swept the rocks and blood from my palms and elbows. Elizabeth helped me off the ground. “I didn’t mean to scare you Cassidy.”

  I arched an eyebrow. It seemed everyone was either scaring me or trying to protect me. Which crowd was Elizabeth in?

  Week Fifteen

  I stared at the numbers on my computer screen. I was supposed to be getting loan documents ready for a hefty-sized refinance. “Come on, Cassidy,” I muttered, “think about the bonus you’ll get when this closes.”

  My cell phone rang. I quietly retrieved it and glanced at the caller I.D. Jared Christensen. Eyes darting behind me, I checked for my ever-watchful boss. He wasn’t staring through the connecting window he’d installed last summer so he could monitor my every move. He must be in the break room heating up Lean Cuisines. I repeatedly explained that ten Lean Cuisines were more calories than a Big Mac, but he said these were approved by his wife.

  I flipped open the phone. “Hey, Jared, can I call you ba”

  “Cassie!” Jared screeched in my ear. “It’s Raquel. She’s been in a wreck.”

  I jumped from my chair. “Is she okay? The baby? Tate?”

  “Tate was at a neighbor’s. Raquel’s a mess. They don’t know about the baby yet.” He let out a sob.

  I grabbed my purse and keys from under the desk, clutching my keys so tightly they dug into my palm. “I’m on my way.”

  “I’m scared.”

  I faltered. Raquel injured? Jared scared? My world tilted. “It’ll be okay.” Such an empty promise, but all I had.

  “Hurry.” The phone disconnected.

  I scurried around the desk and plowed into my boss’s bulk. “Oof!” Chicken and veggies flew from his hands, showering both of us. “Cassidy,” he squawked. “Watch out.”

  I didn’t stop to apologize.

  He grabbed my arm before I could dodge away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “My sister-in-law has been in an accident.”

  “You can go.” He pointed at the floor. “After you clean up this mess.” He jabbed a pudgy fist at the computer. “And after you send the Roberts’ loan off.”

  I stared at him. The Roberts’ loan was more important than Raquel? “I’ll finish it up tomorrow.” I tried to pull away from him.

  He tightened the pressure on my arm. “You walk out that door, you might as well never come back.”

  My jaw dropped. I’d done amazing work for him and every other loan officer in this company. “You would seriously do that to me?”

  The lines around his eyes deepened. “You know how important this loan is.”

  “My family needs me.”

  He clasped my arm tighter. “Decide.”

  I shook free from his greasy fingers. I was destined for better things than this job anyway. “Good luck with the Roberts.”

  I ran around him, squishing carrots and zucchini into the carpet and ignoring his sputters and protests. The drive to the hospital was less than a mile. Not short enough to keep the tears at bay. I prayed and blinked and tried to drive a straight line. What if Raquel didn’t awaken? What if the baby had been injured? My poor family couldn’t take any more heartache.

  * * *

  Jared and I were in limbo. The hospital staff moved Raquel from the emergency room to the intensive care unit. They decided not to life-flight her to a larger hospital in Salt Lake. We took that as a good sign. Dr. Magona, a tall man with pale, receding hair and an inability to meet our gaze, found us in the waiting room and explained what was happening.

  “Is the baby going to be okay?” I interrupted his boring speech.

  His gaze flickered to me then settled on the wall behind me. “It appears the fetus escaped any significant injury during the accident, but would benefit from more time in the womb.”

  “What a
bout Raquel?” Jared asked. “Do you think she’ll be . . . okay soon?”

  Dr. Magona shook his head. “It’s too early to tell. She’s still unconscious. We’ve set her tibia, fused L4 and L5, and stabilized the broken ribs. It doesn’t appear that the spinal cord was damaged. The biggest concern right now is the swelling on her brain. Her body is trying to heal itself and still provide for the fetus. Once the swelling recedes, she may awaken. She may not recover until after the baby is delivered. She may . . .” He shifted uncomfortably and thankfully didn’t finish the third option.

  “Why not just take the baby now?” Jared asked.

  “The baby will benefit from every extra day in the womb, especially his respiratory system.” The doctor clenched his clipboard. “We feel the safest route for both baby and mother is a wait and see approach.”

  Jared looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. The doctor left. Jared and I were granted a few minutes each to visit Raquel’s room. Jared came out with red-rimmed eyes and gestured to the double doors of the ICU. “Go wake her up for me, will you, sis?”

  I tried to smile. “I’ll do my best.” I picked up the phone, gave the nurse Raquel’s name, and waited for her to buzz the door open. Trudging slowly through ICU, I dreaded seeing my sister-in-law. Maybe I should just turn around. What could I do that would make it better?

  Then I was in her room and there was nothing to do but look at her sad form, her stomach pitching the blanket like a teepee. I raced to her side and grabbed her hand. It was so cold. I almost dropped it again, but forced myself to hold on.

  “Hey, El,” my voice whispered into the stillness broken only by beeping monitors. She looked awfulbandages and casts, pale skin and bruises.

  “So . . . I have this new idea. I think you’ll like it.” I talked because I didn’t know what else to do. I told her all about my new plan to help children in impoverished countries be healthier with clean drinking water, healthy foods, and incorporating physical fitness and some fun into their lives. “It’s like combining two things I love, being healthy and helping the children. Perfect that I quit my job today so I can focus on my personal training business and my new charity work.” I looked down at her. I always told Raquel everything to hear her advice and because she always supported me, but obviously she wasn’t responding to these ideas.