Ford Security Page 4

  I probably should have asked her before I left, perhaps should have gotten a key from her as well. Not that that would be necessary since she doesn’t have the common sense to lock her door. When this entire ordeal is over, I’m sure she’ll change some of her habits. These situations change you, and her life will never be the same.

  I question if she’s ready for her world to change. She’ll see everything differently, just as I was terrified of dogs all those years ago; she’s going to find herself fearful of the smallest and stupidest things. Any passing shadow, including her own shadow on a hot summer day, will frighten her.

  Right now, she’s not thinking about any of that.

  I pass through the small galley kitchen—sterile white cupboards with pale yellow accent walls. There’s nothing of use here, nothing she’ll need anyway. On the stove is a tall pan of chili, cold and old. Perhaps she had planned to return home for leftovers. That, or she’s just someone not interested in keeping a clean place.

  I’m a little OCD when it comes to cleaning. Can’t stand clutter or filth, which I’m sure would surprise plenty of people because of my bachelor lifestyle.

  Walking through the dining room, there’s a long table surrounded by six wooden chairs. On the table is a closed laptop, but other than that, the room seems unused. My guess is that she’s either not the kind of person to host dinners or she’s recently moved into the place.

  On the other side of the room are yellow curtains—at least the color pallet is consistent throughout the house so far. I step to the window and draw back the curtains to see a white delivery van pulling into the driveway opposite from where I parked my car.

  I venture into the living room, keeping a mental note of the van parked in the opposing driveway. It’s clean and neat with the same basic color scheme carried from the rest of the house. Just ahead is the front door and then carpeted steps just in front of that door.

  Heading for the bedroom, I brace one hand on the railing of the stairs but the doorbell buzzing steals my attention. I cock my head towards the door and brace one hand on the gun strapped in my holster. I dig it out as I step to the door and peek through the small hole in the door.

  Standing on the porch is a tall man wearing an all-blue uniform and a matching blue hat. In his hands, he holds a bouquet of black roses. His head is angled so that the hat hangs a shadow over his face.

  I pull the door open carefully with one hand, steadying my gun with the other but making sure to keep it out of sight in case there’s nothing suspicious about the man.

  Once the door is cracked open enough to stick my head outside, the man raises his head and passes me a wicked grin. I sigh and drop the gun to my side, greeting him with a frown.

  “What are you doing here, Luke?”

  “I have some black roses for one Chase Carter.” He cocks a wild brow at me and chuckles. “That doesn’t even sound like a real name.”

  “Well it is.” I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him inside before anyone can see him. I reach for the door and slam it shut, and when I turn back to him he’s wearing a mischievous grin. “Now are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

  Luke is my oldest and closest friend. Back when Domino Ford was putting together the security agency, I pointed to Luke to join the team. Tall and dark, the women fawn over him. He’s a constant smartass, but that’s a part of his charm. His smile and deep blue eyes could fool anyone, but underneath all the snark is a brutal killing machine.

  He removes the blue hat from the top of his head and drops it down onto the couch. He sits the bouquet onto the vanity table parked against the side of the stairwell. “Marcus alerted me that you needed backup.”

  “Well that’s simply not true.” I grit my teeth and shake my head. “I’ve more than got this covered.”

  “What’s going on here, anyway?” He steps to the mantel housed above a pale brick fireplace. He picks up a framed photo of Summer in his hands and turns to me with a grin. “I’m guessing the reason you’re here has something to do with this hot little thing.”

  “You’re a certified genius.” I rush across the short space between us and rip the photo out of his hands to place it back onto the mantle where it belongs. “Don’t go around touching everything.”

  “Why?” He throws his hands up in the air. “Are you framing somebody for something? Is this the scene of a grisly murder and my fingerprints on everything are going to indict me?”

  “What information did Marcus give you exactly?”

  He shrugs and paces past me, takes a seat on the couch with his arms fitted comfortably over the top. “You know to be honest, I wasn’t really listening too well, but I did manage to get the part where you needed my help and then he texted me the address.”

  “I most definitely don’t need your assistance, especially because I’m not sure you’re actually here to help.”

  “Really?” He cocks his head. “Then what do you think I’m here for?”

  “To be a pain in my ass.”

  He smacks his lips as he takes a good glance around the house. “I thought you were off today.”

  “I am.” I groan as I push the gun back into the holster joined to my hip. “I mean I was.”

  “Let me guess.” He climbs back to his feet and claps his hands together. “The pretty young woman who lives here was somehow able to rope you into saving her and you just couldn’t resist because you’re such a swell guy.”

  “You’re off about the specifics of the case, but overall, yeah.”

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  “The hell you mean by that?”

  “You know what I mean.” He pokes me in the chest playfully. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

  “Anything wrong with what?”

  “You have a sweet spot for damsels in distress.”

  “I have a sweet spot for not sitting back, idling watching two women be robbed in a parking garage. Her sister was kidnapped in the process.”

  “Shit,” he scoffs, shakes his head.

  “Yeah, I can’t help but feel a little responsible.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  I turn to him and point out the window. “Did you notice anything suspicious on your way in to torment me?”

  “There was this woman with tight gray curls strolling down the sidewalk in a walker.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip. “I have a hunch that she’s actually an evil spy or something. The only thing I can’t figure out is why she was walking away from this house.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I scowl at him before hitting the steps and racing upstairs. His feet pad along the carpeted floors behind me as I round a corner to find four doors. Two of them open, two of them closed.

  I head into the bedroom first.

  It’s quaint—everything’s just too damn cute about this place, you know if I cared about things like that. I don’t. There’s a queen-sized bed, suitable for a queen, with matching white furniture including a dresser with a TV hung from the wall.

  I pull open the accordion closet doors and notice Luke staring at me. Leaning against the doorway, he cocks a brow as he watches me. I pay him no attention as I reach for an empty duffle bag and toss it onto the bed.

  This is new for me. It’s not usually a part of my job description to go out on a run for clean clothes for a client, but I imagine nothing about this job is going to be ordinary.

  Now, I know what I like in a woman. When I see one that’s attractive, I can tell you exactly why. But how the hell do I even begin to pick out clothing for a woman I hardly know? My eyes twitch back and forth, taking inventory of the available options. There are dresses—both casual and formal—among a line of colorful blouses.

  “What exactly are you doing?” Luke questions from the doorway, his arms crossed over each other.

  I look to him with a sigh. “I’m looking for clothes for the girl I took back to the factory.”

  He laughs and twists to
me. “You took a girl back there? Domino is going to have your head on a platter.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “I have a question for you…” He steps to the bed and takes a seat on the edge with his palms digging deep into the mattress. “Are you making up this kidnapping plot so that you can take a girl back to the place?”

  “Why in the hell would I do that?” I shake my head. “Never mind. If you’re going to be a pain in my ass though, then can you at least help out a little?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off and rises to his feet. “I’ll go grab the girl’s toothbrush and some shampoo.” On his way out the bedroom, he cranes his head back to me. “Should I grab a razor too?”

  I pass him an annoyed look and he disappears into the hallway. Turning my attention back to the closet, I grab a few random blouses and dresses and stuff them into the duffle bag. I pull open the top drawer of the dresser to find enough panties of varying styles to last for at least a month or two.

  Something about this feels so wrong, but I’m not going to lie. An erection grows in my jeans, constrained tight by denim. I hurry up and grab a handful of panties and toss them into the bag before zipping it up and tossing it over my shoulder.

  The movement of the bag kicks a photo frame onto its face. I turn to put it back in place and see that it’s a photo of Summer and her sister. They’re both younger in the photo, smiling with their heads tilted toward each other while sitting on a white park bench.

  She’s so damn beautiful with a smile capable of lighting up an entire room. Her sister, with many of the same facial features and hair color, is a stunner as well. There’s a rule in my line of work—never fall for a client. It’s a rule I intend on keeping but I’d be lying if I didn’t say my curiosity was piqued.

  I flip off the bedroom light as I step back into the hallway, running right into an alert Luke with various bathroom items stacked into his arms.

  “You have to admit that this is a little creepy,” he sneers as he dumps the items into the top of the bag. “Going through some random woman’s house and belongings like you’re the IRS combing over mileage deductions.”

  “Can I ask you a question, Luke?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you come disguised as a flower delivery guy?”

  “Long story.” He scratches nervously at the back of his head. “Let’s just keep that little detail to ourselves.”

  I roll my eyes before making my way back downstairs. There are a series of photos hung on the wall along the descending stairways that I didn’t pay much attention to earlier. Various photos of Summer and her family. From the outside looking in, they’re just about as wholesome as anyone could ever be. It’s a shame they’ve been dragged into the world I operate in on a daily basis.

  With the bag slung over my shoulder, I take a peek outside through the yellow curtains adorning the window. Everything looks the same as before, except the elderly woman Luke had been talking about earlier is now making her way up the sidewalk with her walker one painful step at a time.

  “Be careful,” I warn him as I swing the door open. “That old lady is outside and she’s got her eye on you.”

  “Hilarious.” He retrieves his hat from the couch and the flowers from the vanity before bowing out backwards. “See you on the flip side.”

  I shut the door in his face and twist the lock before slinking back out the back door and heading back to the factory.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SUMMER

  Sitting alone, the thoughts are killing me. I keep seeing the scene play out in my imagination and though I try to change things, it always ends the same—with Taylor being dragged away from me screaming.

  Sitting alone, I’m left pondering whether or not I should bolt. I’ve been thinking that off and on since I first jumped into the car with the stranger who so kindly stepped in to save me when he didn’t have to.

  But the seconds and minutes, the hours too, they’re all ticking by while I just sit here alone. My stomach growls, but I’m not hungry. There’s no way I could eat when my insides are twisted like a pretzel at a mall eatery.

  I should be doing something. That much is certain, but my mind won’t allow me to come up with ideas of exactly what I should be doing. Somewhere out there, Taylor is scared and she’s alone. And here I am in what is basically a safe house. The guilt eats right through me.

  My mind goes to the darkest of places, wondering if she’s even still alive, and then wondering how much I am to blame for what happened. The what if’s, those are the absolute worst, eating away at my soul and damning me to submerge myself in guilt.

  There’s a knock on my door but before I’m able to answer, the door is pulled open and I’m greeted by a tall blonde with a warm smile. She’s dressed in a fitted black dress and matching high heel shoes.

  “You must be Summer,” she says to me with a brimming smile. Considering the circumstances, I’m slightly annoyed but I force a smile back. She steps forward and reaches her hand out to shake mine. “I’m Anna Lewis. I presume Chase told you about me?”

  “He said you’d come for me.” When I stand up, the bedsprings squeak from under me. “I’m ready.”

  “You’re in good hands, Summer.” She twists on her feet and hooks her finger for me to follow her.

  I’m right behind her as she exits the small bedroom and follow her past the training area. Towards the back of the large space, there’s a steel door with a blue light situated over it and another retina scanner beside it. She looks into the scanner and the light above the door flashes twice before there’s a low buzzing sound.

  The door clicks open.

  She grabs the handle and ushers me inside. Just before the door closes behind us, I crane my head over my shoulder to see that the tech guy—Marcus, I think—has vacated his post.

  I glance around the short hallway where there are steel doors on both sides and a long glass window looking into both of them. I’ve never been in a real life interrogation room, but from what I’ve seen in movies and television, this looks just about right.

  I swallow nervously as Anna’s shadow falls over my face. Standing side by side with a clipboard in hand, she lowers her palm onto my shoulder and massages me gently.

  “I know it looks scary, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “What do you mean?” I force another smile and cock my head to her.

  “It’s okay.” She sighs as she reaches for the left-most of the two doors and pulls it open. “This is a scary place, because it’s meant to be scary. You’d be surprised how many people crack the second they pass through that secured door.”

  I look back at the door and swallow again. If I were nervous before, feeling sick and queasy with my stomach twisted into knots, then I’ve reached a new low. I feel as if I could faint, as if the nightmare I’ve found myself in is only getting more and more terrifying by the moment.

  Frozen in place, it’s like I’m unable to move. Not until she braces a firm hand on my back, gesturing that it’s okay. She follows me into the room and as I move to take a seat in one of two chairs around a steel table, Marcus jets into the room with a laptop in hand.

  Anna closes the door, and it’s like all the oxygen in the room is sucked out in an instant. I pull at the top of my blouse, running my balmy fingers over the bare skin of my neck. My throat dries in an instant and I’m left feeling parched as if I’ve been lost in the middle of the desert.

  Anna and Marcus take seats on the opposite side of me. I avoid making eye contact as my gaze shifts upwards to glance at myself in the mirror behind them. It’s a two-way mirror; I know that because I could see inside the room from the outside hallway. Here, I’m met with only my pale reflection.

  I shake my head and try to steady my breathing, try to regulate my temperature, but it’s no use.

  There’s nothing else I can do. Nothing else but to jump from my seat and race towards the door. I rip it open before either of them can process what�
��s happening, but when I try to do the same with the first door, it won’t budge.

  I pull at it again, but it’s just more of the same until the door is thrown open, knocking me on my butt. Two men dressed in all black—the same men from the parking garage—stroll in with guns. One of them aims their gun squarely at my head and behind closed eyes, I just pray for this nightmare to end.

  I snap back to reality, the reality in which I’m still seated in front of Anna and Lewis and they’re both staring at me like I’m a blind canvas.

  “We don’t often bring clients back here,” Anna says, with the same warm smile she greeted me with earlier. She’s always smiling, an admirable trait in this oftentimes grim world. “It’s against protocol. This room was designed to suppress the bad guys, so to speak. It’s cold and uninviting with purpose, but that purpose serves no purpose here. We are two friendly faces and we’re simply here to help you by gathering useful information and intel that Chase will be able to use to get your sister back.”

  “Okay,” I whisper under my breath, just about as meekly as possible. “Where do we begin?”

  “Can you state your name?” Anna begins as Marcus readies his fingers on the laptop computer. He’s there to take notes, not ask the questions.

  “It’s uhh…” I push dark curls of hair out of my face and wet my lips with my tongue. “I’m Summer Smart.”

  “Can you give us some basic information about yourself, such as your age, occupation, things like that?”

  “I’m thirty years old and work as a high school history teacher. I live out in the suburbs and come from a small farming community from out East.” I clear my throat. “Why does any of this matter?”

  “We just need to make sure everything checks out.”

  “Are you trying to imply that I’m lying?”

  “Nothing like that.” She reaches across the table and holds her palm over the back of my hand to comfort me. “Can you give us more information about what transpired earlier today?”