FUTURE RISK

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

He laughs twice, the sound deep and disturbing. “I don’t want your money. You’ve already taken all of mine.” His gaze searches out to his left and stops on my brand-new stove against the wall. The same one I found a heck ton of money behind.

  At that moment all the pieces fall into place.

  Kevin, the guy who used to rent from Pierce. The one who probably used this place to launder money and run drugs. That’s the same Kevin who stands less than a foot away from me now. The one preoccupied with my oven.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “You did good things to the place. It’s a little pink for me, but to each their own.”

  I stay on the ground not moving as he continues to survey the kitchen almost like he’s reminiscing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. At least not long enough for me to make it to the security panel and hit the panic button.

  “I’m gonna need you to come with me,” he says, his attention finally returning to me.

  I shake my head. “That’s not a good idea.”

  He sighs. “That’s too bad, you looked nice. I thought I’d be able to do this without a lot of violence.”

  Violence?

  He drops the hand from behind his back and I wish he hadn’t. What is it with adults and the overuse of guns? I’ve seen so many the last two weeks, my reaction to another is totally out of character. Meaning I do nothing. There’s no screaming, or flinching, nothing but a bunch of deep breaths.

  “Okay.” I stand up with my hands in the air.

  He smiles the same hole between his teeth standing out. “This is the kind of listening I like to see. Let’s go.”

  “Go?”

  “To my car.” He waves his hand like he’s ushering me out of the door, not kidnapping me in broad daylight. While I hesitate, he reaches over and steals the bag of cookies I’d packed for everyone tonight.

  Looking back on the situation, it probably wasn’t my best idea to fight Bennett about stationing someone at the bakery at all times. I didn’t see how a small bakery owner needed a bodyguard for twenty-four-hour protection, but now I see the error of my ways.

  I’m always willing to admit when I’m wrong.

  Normally.

  At least when a gun is pointed at me.

  Parked at the base of the steps, slightly at an angle, his car takes up one and a half parking spaces and is an old rusted out white hatchback. The backseat full of… crap. Empty fast food wrappers, blankets, I think I see a shoe. For split-second I almost consider letting him shoot me rather than get into the car. It probably has more germs than a morgue.

  Kevin catches me hesitating and stops to open the passenger side door. At least this portion of the car seems clean. There’s a floor mat underneath only a few hundred straw wrappers littering the top.

  I should probably fight, or scream, or do anything, but I don’t. At the last second I turn, making contact with the camera hanging over the back door and widen my eyes. Hopeful somebody is actually watching the screen and will let Bennett or Ridge know I’m in trouble. Again.

  Once I’m in the car, Kevin slams the door and I have another second when I consider locking the door and keeping him out. But I don’t have the car keys and he’d probably shoot me through the window, so I toss out my idea before he makes it to his side.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He starts the car, one hand holding the gun in my direction, but keeping it low enough no one outside would see.

  “This will all be over soon.”

  “You mean you’re going to kill me?” I ask my voice rising with the question. How wrong is it to tell me that before he does anything?

  “No!” he yells like he’s offended. “You’re no good to me dead.”

  My heart rate slows down, but only a beat or two. I am kidnapped after all.

  “I have a little place outside of town. You and I get to vacation there for a little bit while I negotiate with Ridge.” He turns a corner and heads down the road out of town.

  I look for anyone who’s out walking. Normally this time of night the streets are filled, but of course everyone is at home. There’s not a single person nearby so I could roll down the window and yell for help.

  “Why are you negotiating for me? I’m not rich, so I fear you won’t get much out of me.” He’d have been better off taking me up on my offer to get in the safe.

  Kevin shakes his head a small amount, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Ridge wouldn’t let the poor new little brunette bakery owner die on his watch. He has too much pride. Plus, it’s his fault I owe the Zanetti family.”

  I actually snort. Just more proof I’ve actually lost my mind. Not only did I get in the car with a madman, but now I’m laughing at him. “No one is going to pay that much money for me.”

  See? Absolutely crazy. Who tells their kidnapper they aren’t worth enough money?

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I keep watch outside the window, but at no time are there any black SUVs racing on the road to save me. As we drive, I develop a great plan where I open the door, roll out in the road, and make a mad dash for it, but Kevin passes the welcome to Pelican Bay sign and increases his speed on the country road before I work up the nerve to try.

  He turns off the main road out of town and heads north. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

  “What?”

  “For the bakery? I see you don’t have a sign.” He asks the question calmly like we’re having a normal everyday conversation. Two people out for a stroll in his drivable dumpster.

  So this is what we’re doing then? “No. Not yet.”

  “Hopefully Ridge pays me fast so you get to live and pick one.”

  Each time he threatens my life, I notice it in my stomach. The nerves tightening. I grab on to the door handle reconsidering my jump out plan if he slows down.

  We drive for another few minutes before Kevin turns off the main road onto a dirt pothole-filled one. He doesn’t slow, his car bouncing in and out of the holes, and gravel sprays on either side of the car. When we turn again it’s down a long driveway, tall grass and a few small trees growing up along the sides.

  At the end of the dirt track is a clearing with an obviously old and hopefully abandoned cabin. Ridge has commented about these old forgotten family hunting cabins that are scattered across the county, but this is my first experience seeing one firsthand. I’m not impressed.

  “Time to go,” Kevin says, not giving me time to object. Again, he’s the one holding the gun. I guess he gets to decide when we leave and where we go.

  The wooden porch steps creak and moan as we walk up them. The middles bend and I worry about falling through, but Kevin runs up them directly behind me not at all worried. Inside the cabin is empty. Old dusty cobwebs have settled in all the corners, and our feet leave prints as we walk across the floor. At the end of the large open space I assume to be a living room is an open area leading to a small kitchen. To our right a set of steps leads upstairs.

  “Sit.”

  I don’t ask any questions or argue but sit on the dirty floor. More of the deep breaths I’ve perfected get me through the dirt caking my jeans.

  Kevin paces a few feet in front of me. He walks in one direction, turns on a heel, and walks in the other. He mutters to himself. The few words I’m able to hear make no sense at all — things like I swear he says “big fluffy kitten” and “happy clouds.” Like a demented Bob Ross. When the pacing stops, Kevin pulls out a phone from his back pocket.

  “Fingers crossed Ridge thinks you’re worth it.” His fingers pound on the phone keys. He brings it to his ear, waits a minute, brings it down, and stares at the screen. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

  Every bone in my body wants ask what, but I’m not stupid. When his gaze falls to mine, he holds the phone at me like I’m somehow responsible. “It’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry?” He’s obviously looking for some kind of acknowledgment despite my newest plan to go unnoticed.

  Kevin walks i
nto the kitchen backward never taking his eye off me as he stops at the counter and plugs his phone in. I cannot believe they would have electricity running to this place. The whole cabin is kindling from the wood floors to the walls to the holey ceiling. I’m surprised it’s not on fire right now. It takes but a second and then he’s back in the living room, pacing again.

  This time he makes a wider loop before turning. The murmurs to himself become louder and more insistent.

  “The whole thing planned out and this is what happens.” His anger grows each time he talks. “Kidnap the girl, call Ridge, and collect the money. A three-step plan. It was supposed to be easy.” By the time he finishes, he’s yelling and I scoot away until my back is against the wall. I wrap my knees up bringing them close to my chin to make myself as small as possible.

  It’s 6 o’clock at the latest. The fireworks are not slated to start until after dark, which means I have hours before anyone will notice I’m missing if they weren’t watching the cameras.

  Kevin’s pacing picks up, his steps faster as he mumbles louder and louder, screaming at himself now. The dire situation I’m currently in finally hits me and a few tears trickle down my cheeks. My heart is beating out of my chest.

  The whole situation is crazy. My life is crazy. My kidnapper pacing and berating himself for being stupid and me on the floor of the room crying into my hands is crazy. As he gets louder my cries increase as well, using my hands to stifle the sound. Until I sniffle.

  Kevin, realizing I’m in the room, turns on me. His eyes narrow. He pushes his hands through his hair gripping the ends and pulling. “Shut up! Shut up! Can’t you see I’m trying to think?”

  I sniffle and do my best to choke off the sob and cover my mouth with my hand harder. It’s not enough. He raises the gun at my head and fires. I scream after the bang as it echoes through the room, but it’s muffled by my hand blocking my lips.

  Glass scatters on the floor from one of the living room windows and another gunshot rings out. This one is not as close and sounds like a slamming door. I feel around my chest and head searching for a bullet hole. Kevin doesn’t scream but falls to the cabin floor clutching one of his legs. He aims his gun out the window and fires off a countless number of shots.

  I wrap my body into the tightest ball possible and scoot farther away. The scene unfolds around me as I watch from a small gap between my knees. Kevin stands and runs as best he can while holding his leg. He makes it to the back door at the same time two men dressed in all black with thick boots kick open the front door. They both stop in the main living room, their guns drawn, their eyes scanning the location.

  The taller of the two, Ridge, reaches over, yelling directions into a small walkie-talkie mounted by his shoulder. “Subject escaped out the back. Two men take the rear and cover him.”

  The second man, Bennett, rests on his knees on the ground beside me. “Did he hit you?” I shake my head no but it’s not enough as he feels my body up and down. Checking my legs and stomach, he lifts my shirt. “Where did the bullet go? We heard the shot.”

  “Above the fireplace,” I manage to get the words out between sniffles and wrap my arms around Bennett. I never plan to let go.

  “Is there anyone upstairs?” Ridge asks not moving from his wide-leg stance in the middle of the room.

  I shake my head again. “I don’t think so.”

  The answer is obviously not good enough when he leans over and issues more orders to the walkie-talkie.

  Bennett wipes away a few of my tears. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ve got you now, right?”

  This time I nod, my snot and tears wiping all over his black shirt. I attempt to wipe the area away before he notices but he only laughs. “Promise you won’t let me go.”

  He squeezes tighter. “I promise I will never let you go ever again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The sun is warm in the area on my cheek where my head rests on the pillow. It’s my first clue something is not right. I haven’t been able to sleep in long enough to have the sun wake me up in…too damn long.

  Another half a second passes and I remember it’s Friday. Two days ago I survived a kidnapping. I’m allowed to sleep in today. Another stretch to fix the kink in my body so I can sleep longer, but the muscles in my back protest.

  The clock on Bennett’s side of the bed reads 10:07.

  I retract my earlier statement. I haven’t slept this late since high school.

  Another minute happens before my mind kicks in and realizes it’s 10:07 in the morning and nobody has called me. That seems unlikely. Especially since I left Tabitha in charge of Katy while running my bakery. I spent all day yesterday in the bakery cooking. Everything from donuts in the morning to cupcakes, cookies and a few new items I wanted to try. Baking helped to work through the anxiety of my kidnapping. And while Ridge promised my life wasn’t really in danger, since Kevin wanted to use me as a ransom and ransoms are no good dead, I was shot at. I don’t think that’s something you ever get over.

  Did Kevin have a good aim and miss me on purpose or was my life saved by a faulty shot? They haven’t caught him yet. Ridge and Bennett believe he’s out in the woods bleeding, but I’m not so sure. What if he comes back and decides I’m not worth the money anymore?

  I made a double batch of blueberry muffins to handle the emotions. It’s a reasonable response.

  So much food passed through my kitchen yesterday I have enough of a surplus to leave Tabitha in charge of the bakery all day today without her having to turn on an oven. But to be safe I called in Katy for reinforcements. I wasn’t taking the chance.

  My cell phone is right where I left it on the nightstand, plugged in but fully charged. When I turn it on there isn’t a single message from anyone.

  It’s very concerning.

  For all I know my entire bakery and house could be a pile of ash in the corner of Main Street. Tabitha would run out of chocolate chip cookies and Katy would come up with a plan and the next thing you know half the fire department would be called in. It isn’t safe to leave those two around electrical appliances. What was I thinking?

  Who let me agree to this?

  In fact, I see the two of them doing it for spite. Katy because she hates Pierce and he’s my landlord. She’d probably like nothing more than to see one of his buildings burned to the ground.

  And Tabitha.

  Tabitha is more than pissed off because Ridge said if she wants to keep working at the bakery, he’s placing a guy stationed inside the entire time. No questions. Way too much has happened for him to feel comfortable with us working there alone. I wanted to put up a fight, but quite honestly I’d feel better, too.

  Bennett’s been trying to get me to ask for help since this whole situation started and I finally decided to stop fighting them. This is a case where a girl could use a little help.

  I type a quick text message asking if they have enough trash bags. It’s a diversionary tactic because there are two boxes in the cabinet. I want someone to message me back and promise the bakery hasn’t burned to the ground.

  Waiting for the reply I roll over and manage to find myself back in the bed sheets. I close my eyes and try to fall back to sleep, but it’s no use until I get confirmation. Finally, my phone vibrates with a message from Katy.

  KATY: The bakery is fine. Stop asking about trash bags and enjoy your day with the hottie.

  With my livelihood’s safety confirmed I attempt to sleep, but it’s too late. My mind has already processed images of my burning building. Even if I believe Katy that everything is fine, it’s much too late for me to fall back to sleep.

  The house is noiseless. I haven’t heard a single noise while I’ve waffled about getting up.

  “Bennett,” I lightly call, my hands cupped around my mouth.

  There is no answer. There’s also no sound of a small child running up and down the stairs or a TV with cartoons. I think it’s safe to say they’ve all abandoned me.

  There’s plenty of
time for me to grab a quick shower, but when the warm water hits my back, I decide to add a few minutes to the plan. I let the warm spray fall over my head for longer than normal.

  As I’m leaving Bennett’s large master bathroom, I stop and stare back at the deep garden tub. Running a handle on the porcelain edge I promise I’ll be back one day. It makes my tiny little standup shower in the apartment seem so…small. I wrap a towel around myself and walk out to the bedroom in search of the bag of clothes I packed.

  The bedroom door opens and I tighten the towel around my chest, not relaxing until I confirm it’s Bennett. I’m not used to living with a small child. Who knows if they walk around just opening doors whenever they want.

  “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

  He laughs not sounding upset at all. “It’s a day off, remember?”

  “Well yeah, but I can do stuff.”

  “No, the point of a day off is not to do anything.”

  I wave a hand to him who is fully dressed and even wearing a pair of hiking boots. “Well you took a day off too and you’re up and about.”

  He sits on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. “Maybe I just like having you sleeping in my bed.”

  “Really?” I manage not to blush this time when he gives the compliment, which quite frankly is a huge improvement.

  “Yeah, it makes me feel all possessive.”

  “Because you need help feeling possessive, right?” I laugh from my question so he doesn’t take me too seriously. Although, if questioned I’m a little serious.

  “I can’t help it with you. Why don’t you take off the towel and show me your moves?” He makes a little circle with his finger.

  But I’m not that kind of girl. It’s not that I have a problem with taking off my towel and dancing around for a man, especially my man, it’s just that he might look at me. And that’s scary. It’s daylight. And even though the blinds are closed it’s light in here. “You should put on your navy uniform and dance around for me.”

  “Done.”

  I laugh. “Would you really?”