by S. M. Butler
She picked up her tennis shoe and lifted the insole carefully, then placed the small card right where the arch would be. She had high arches so the least amount of weight would be distributed there. She pressed the insole back down and slipped it on.
Abigail sighed and sunk onto the bed. The windows stayed locked, so she wasn’t going out that way. And the proximity of her security would mean they’d have her the second she broke that window anyway.
No, she had to wait until the next public engagement. They were still careful at public gatherings, but it was the only way she could get loose from the heavy security her father kept on her. She was his most prized possession for whatever reason. Once she’d thought it was his love for his family, but she’d been blind and stupid to believe that.
This plan was contingent on her getting out of the house. She could get lost in the busy city on her own after that, but she had to get over this first hurdle. It was a Hail Mary play, and not really her style, but she didn’t have a choice anymore. Eventually, Daniel Lewis would no longer have a use for her alive, and she’d get a bullet in the head, and disappear from existence.
Once upon a time, Abigail had endured a brutal and savage kidnapping. Her father wasn’t anything like that, but learning that she’d been a prisoner all her life… she was done allowing others to run her life. She wouldn’t stay a prisoner. Not ever again. Not if she could stop it. And if she could survive that, she could survive her own father.
Chapter Three
The sun beat down on Chris’s face as he stopped his run, slowing to a brisk walk as he approached his apartment. Usually, he ran first thing in the morning, but he’d just come back to town the night before from his last mission, and he just couldn’t manage to drag himself out of bed.
His apartment complex was barely a complex. It was a two-story building that was built in the late fifties with four apartments on each side of the building. It probably hadn’t been repainted since the eighties, and now the outside had faded from its once bright blues and grays, and the paint had begun peeling away, revealing older orange and brown. Like the garage, it was owned by Hawk International, his employer.
Like him.
He took a quick shower and headed for town. It was nearly noon, and the sun was already out like a beast. His shirt stuck to him with the layer of perspiration covering his skin.
Texas heat. That he had not missed when he was stationed out in California.
He turned down the main road and walked toward the grocery store. Jubilee was one of those clockwork kinds of towns. Sue Ellen Carter walked her dog at exactly seven in the morning, for the entire length of Main Street before she stopped at the salon to get her hair done every day. Mr. Gardner checked his mail at twelve thirty every day, then walked down to the bar for a beer with the guys.
“Chris!”
Fuck.
“Christopher Blevins!” At the sound of his cover name, he turned and pasted a smile on his face as an older woman with platinum blonde hair and a blouse that was two sizes too small for her bust waved at him.
And Mrs. Mary Jo Parker visited the salon he was standing in front of every Wednesday at noon.
She shuffled toward him on her stiletto heels, short quick steps as she waved at him. She stopped way too close to him, and he fought the urge to step back from her.
She smiled, big and wide, the hunger in her eyes promising to devour him whole. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’ve been out of town for a few days.”
“Oh, vacation?”
“Visiting some friends,” he replied. If chasing drug dealers across South America counted as visiting friends. He hadn’t finished the mission, either. Nathan had called him back with no explanation. But that was par for the course with Nathan.
“Well, I was hoping,” she smiled, brushing her fingertips against his chest, “that you’d be around to help me with my car.”
Chris sighed. Mrs. Parker’s husband had died a few years back before he’d moved to Jubilee two years ago. She spent her time getting the men around town to help her with all the things her husband had done before. “What did you do to your car?”
“Nothing. Axel said that the tires were a little worn, is all. He ordered me new ones, but I need someone to put them on.”
A little worn probably meant bald as fuck. Axel wouldn’t have ordered the tires if she hadn’t been in dire need of them. Axel had a soft spot for Mrs. Parker and tried to help her out as much as he could. The rest of them avoided her as much as possible. Last time they hadn’t, Sheriff Hannigan had arrested her for indecent exposure in front of Jack.
“I’ll check with Axel and see if they’re in,” he said.
“They are. He called.” She grinned. Damn, the woman was sneakier than Jordan Levi in an art museum. “How about tomorrow morning? Before my yoga class.” Yoga class meant she’d come out wearing ridiculously tight workout clothes. He wanted to be in South America chasing drug dealers instead of talking to her.
He heard giggling from inside the salon. Why did she have to do this right here? He wasn’t going to live this one down for weeks. It would be all over town in a few hours and as soon as his team heard about it, it would be months of torture following.
“Okay,” he said, regretting the decision instantly as her grin widened. “I’ll be there around nine.”
“You won’t regret it, Chris,” she replied, practically bubbling with excitement. She grabbed his shirt and kissed his cheek, then pranced herself into the salon, her ass swaying from side to side, probably for his benefit. The women inside instantly crowded around Mrs. Parker, the giggles floating out toward him.
He grumbled to himself and continued on to the grocery store, got himself some food for dinner and headed back to his apartment. He never kept a lot of food in his place, especially since he wasn’t there very often. Missions kept him on the go, so he usually just bought for one or two meals. It made things easier than throwing out food every time he came home because it spoiled.
He avoided the salon on the way back, hoping that no one else ambushed him.
~*~*~
Abigail’s Hail Mary moment came a week later when her father told her she had to make an appearance at a charity function so he could schmooze some bureaucrats into campaign donations.
“I don’t have to remind you of our arrangement, do I?” He asked, his calculating eyes sweeping over her. That’s all she ever got now. Cold and calculating. She was just a tool, to be taken out when needed and put away when not.
“I don’t see why I need to go at all,” she said.
“It’s a charity for kidnapped children. I’d say it’s right up your wheelhouse,” he replied, smirking. “Your time in South America makes you a pretty shiny figurehead in my book.”
Or my whole life, she added silently.
“Are we good, or shall I rethink our agreement?”
She glared at her father, wanting more than anything to punch him and then curl up in a ball and cry for the family she never had the chance to have. Then she nodded. “We’re good.”
“Good,” he replied. “In the car, then.”
“You want me to go like this?” she motioned to her t-shirt and shorts, and the tennis shoes she never ever let leave her sight.
“Yes. It’s not a formal event. I’m the only one that needs to overdress.” He turned and strode toward the car. He didn’t look back as he called over his shoulder. “Come, Abigail. We don’t want to be late.”
The two guards on her gently nudged her in the direction he went, and begrudgingly, she followed.
The ride over was silent, tension coiling in the air, swirling like a storm that hadn’t fully formed yet. She and Lewis had never really seen eye to eye in the past, but this had become a whole new form of tension. Gone was the father-daughter dynamic, wiped away when her eyes had been opened to the truth. Now there was this new relationship where he had all the power, and she was expected to do as she was told.
&nb
sp; Well, Senator Daniel Lewis was in for a surprise. She was not going to go quietly and live her life afraid of his next move. She’d waited a year for a chance to make her break. A year of captivity, of being told when and where to be, of being escorted through the house, of being locked into her childhood bedroom at night like a criminal. A year of planning, of stashing supplies and funds without letting her guards realize what she was doing.
The problem was it hinged on her being able to get to her car to get to her stash and then out of town. But she was in her father’s car and there was no vehicle. As soon as she got away, they’d watch her car.
As they arrived at the outdoor function, she scoped out the grounds, trying to not call attention to herself. Green grass stretched out across the park. Tables were set up with large coolers and paper cups. Hundreds of people gathered around, milling about, shaking hands. Slipping into the crowd wouldn’t be a problem, but most of these people supported her father’s efforts, and they’d know her face.
Abigail wasn’t sure how she would pull this off. She only had a few hours before they’d whisk her back to her cage, and she had no intention of letting them do that today.
Each of her guards had a cell phone on them, most them keeping them in their inner jacket pocket. She’d had one once, but her father had taken that when she’d found the files in his safe. But what she needed was a phone and a good distraction to get it.
Abigail was going to hate herself for the cliche in a minute, but maybe significantly less if she managed to make it work. She tripped herself, like she’d fallen into a hole in the ground, and stumbled into the guard on her left. She let out a short girly yelp of surprise, pawing at the man like she was trying to regain her balance.
His arms gripped her, holding her upper arms as he caught her. She felt the firmness of his gun in the shoulder holster and the smaller lump of his phone in his front inside pocket.
She met his eyes, half-hooding them as she covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Guess the ground was a little uneven.”
The guard muttered something under his breath but said nothing to her as he righted her. Over his shoulder, her father eyed her suspiciously, and for a minute she wondered if she’d already screwed it up. She wasn’t used to doing these things. Maybe she’d done it wrong.
“Could I stop at the restroom? I didn’t get to go before we left,” she said, staring pointedly at her father. The guard looked back at her father, not letting go of her arms.
Lewis looked annoyed more than suspicious now. She took that as a good sign, even better as he nodded. “Five minutes. I want her back in time for the opening speeches.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable as the guard veered her toward the opposite end of the event. He didn’t talk and she didn’t try as they walked until they were out of sight of her father and his entourage. He still wore an earpiece that no doubt kept him in communication with his co-workers.
She needed surprise and time to make this work. Shit. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to do it. She blew out a breath and renegotiated the hold had on her arm, looping her arm around his instead. “I’d rather not look like you’re manhandling me in front of the crowd, if you don’t mind.”
He grunted but didn’t move his arm. She pressed his arm against her body, between her breasts as they walked, and wrapped her arms around it.
“Do you talk at all?” she asked.
“I can talk just fine,” he replied. “It’s better if I focus on keeping you safe.”
Safe. Was that how they thought of it? Maybe this one didn’t know she was a prisoner. But she doubted it. Lewis hired his own security team, vetted them himself. They had to know she wasn’t a willing participant.
“My dad is overprotective,” she said as they neared the restrooms. She glanced around. The area was pretty open. This was going to be hard. Her eyes landed on a flatbed truck on the other side of the restrooms.
Yeah. That would do fine.
“He wants to keep you safe.”
She intermingled his fingers with hers and pulled him behind the truck. His look of surprise was enough to make her laugh. She’d always been the wholesome senator’s daughter. She’d been the good girl. She’d been a willing prisoner for over a year now. It was time to shake things up.
She pressed her body against his as she pushed him into the truck. His hands flew to her arms like he was going to push her off, but she ran her hands up his hard chest. “I get he wants me safe. But I’m denied some things that I need, and seeing as you’re very attractive, and I’m not allowed to date without the guy being vetted, I feel like it comes to you to provide those needs.”
“Stop!” She might have hesitated if his voice hadn’t broken at the end.
She smiled, running her fingers back down his chest to his belt line. “You don’t want me to stop. And I don’t want to stop. Let’s have a little fun first.” She tugged at the leather, slowly loosening the belt as she rested her lips mere centimeters from the skin along the side of his throat. His voice box moved up and down. “I bet we could do a lot with that five-minute deadline.”
He started to push her back but she grabbed his belt and held him against her, pulling it apart at the same time.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Brad,” he replied.
She unbuttoned his pants and slid her hands into them, along his hips. Damn, she had to admit, he was fit. Everything was tight on him. He probably thought he was God’s gift to women too. Better for her.
He groaned as she lightly ran her tongue along his skin. “We can’t do this.”
She glanced up at him, from half-hooded eyes, hoping he saw the naughty senator’s daughter she wanted him to see. Doubt crept into his expression again, so she kissed him, deep and hard, one hand holding him behind his neck, the other sliding along his chest, beneath his pristine white shirt.
She pushed his pants down until they slid to his ankles. His thighs were thick and powerful, signs of a regular runner. She wasn’t a regular runner. She’d have to make sure he couldn’t run after her.
He groaned against her lips, breaking the kiss as his hands cupped her face. “I’m so gonna be fired for this.”
He kissed her this time, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She almost cheered for herself, because her Hail Mary plan was actually starting to work. He slid his hands down her body, cupping her ass. She moved her hands to his chest, delicately releasing the leather latch on the holster.
She almost thought she was made as he groaned against her mouth. She ran her hand against his chest, then gripped his jacket so he wouldn’t feel the weight change when she slipped his phone from his pocket and into her front pocket.
She had only one thing to do now. Do or die time.
She pulled back just a little, so they had to separate their mouths. His body was tensed with desire. Quickly, she pulled the gun out of the holster, flipped off the safety, and pointed it directly into his gut. He froze.
“You are right about one thing, Brad,” she whispered against his lips. “You are so fired.”
She stepped back, still holding the gun trained on him. Shell-shock filled his expression, his dark eyes clouded with want and his erection tenting his exposed boxers.
“You bitch!” he growled.
“Thanks for the fun.” She blew him a kiss and took off running. She heard him call after her, heard him curse, probably when he tripped over his pants but didn’t turn back. She kept running until she managed to get to the street to hail a taxi.
She called emergency services and dutifully reported an abandoned backpack on the event grounds and tossed the phone into the garbage can she passed as her taxi pulled up.
She slipped into the back and leaned back in the seat as they drove away from her life, from her father. She had to get out of town. She couldn’t go back to the house now. They’d be looking for her there.
“Where to?”
“Jefferson
Country Club, please,” she said, grateful that her voice didn’t break. She hadn’t been allowed many places, except if it furthered her father’s career. The country club had been a staple in her life for years, long before she had found those files. She’d managed to keep that in her life, at least, by making him understand that cutting her off completely, by yanking her from a club she’d frequented since childhood would only raise suspicions. It had been the first battle she’d won against Lewis, and she’d used it to the fullest.
Outrunning her father’s security wasn’t going to happen as long as she stayed in Galveston. She could go to the police, but really, her father would get out of it. They all knew him, loved him. His carefully cultivated political image meant they would take him at his word, give her right back to him, and she’d be done.
For any other twenty-two-year-old, they probably wouldn’t treat her like that. But her father was convincing in many ways, manipulative and cunning. She couldn’t fight him on his front. She had to get out of town, out of the country where she could be safe, and then she could tell the United States government that they had elected a kidnapper to the Senate.
Chapter Four
Sweat slid down Abigail Lewis’s brow, following her hairline as precise as someone sliding a finger down the side of her face. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose and took in everything in her line of sight from the small bistro.
She sat by the window, her back against the wall. It made her feel cornered, but at least maybe a little safer. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding for hours. She’d gone to the country club, picked up some cash she’d stashed there over the last year. She’d run into her father’s security, or almost had, barely got out without being caught, and she’d realized just how well her father had kept track of her.
Now she was sitting in this place trying to figure out her next move. Gunning it out of town had been her original plan, but without a vehicle, she couldn’t do that because her meager secret savings wasn’t nearly enough.