As I ducked from the explosion, I heard the man scream as the fire engulfed him. Stewart left the car. I tried the doors but they wouldn’t budge. I was trapped.
The grey sedan’s front end was stuck in the rear of our limo. A couple of equally large men exited the back doors of the car with the driver. The man in the passenger seat, now covered in his own blood and glass from the windshield, was obviously dead.
Kicking the door, I tried to get out again. I wanted to help Stewart who was outnumbered at three to one. Meanwhile he glared at the trio, his feet shoulder-width apart, ready for anything.
I had never seen him like this before. The man who dedicated most of his life to raising me was suddenly larger than life with a look of danger in his eyes that would put fear into most men.
In a flash two of the men launched at him. Stewart fought them off with ease. Wondering where the third man went, I searched for him from the windows of the limo until I spotted him trying to get into the car.
“Bring it asshole, I’m dying to kick your ass,” I growled at him.
The doors didn’t work for him either. Using the force of his body, he threw himself towards one of the windows. With fists clenched I waited for him to break into the car, instead he bounced off like a toy.
Looking like he grew tired of playing with the two men, Stewart quickly grabbed one by the shoulder in a deadly dance, and spun him in one direction as he turned the man’s head in the other. With a sly grin he beckoned the other man closer who paused seeing his fate.
A flash of light sparked out of the corner of my eye and a loud bang hit the window next to me. I turned to see the third man holding a gun towards the car, but again nothing happened. As fast as lightning, Stewart pulled out a sleek black gun. He fired one shot at my assailant, then kicked the man attacking him in the temple, causing both men to drop to the ground.
Stewart spat at the ground, looking confident and deadly as he surveyed the three men and then walked over to the limo. The car door opened for him with ease. Without a word, he smoothed his hand over his head as if pushing his hair back and put his driver’s cap back on. As he began driving, he suddenly became my peaceful, aging driver again, only now with a satisfied smirk on his face.
This wasn’t the first time I had been in danger and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Each time they attacked they got a little closer, but the end result was always the same—they never got what they came for.
The car slowed at the large, ornate iron gates of King Manor. No matter how many years it had been since I rode in the car with my mother, the gates always reminded me of her. She would tell stories about a trip to the French countryside she and my father took before I was born. Originally these gates were part of an ancient abandoned monastery and she fell in love with them. She told her stories with such vivid detail I easily imagined the gates outside an old dilapidated abbey instead of blocking access to the King family’s mansion.
While I traveled extensively for business, I never took time for personal trips. They were too dangerous so I never saw the monastery myself. Filling most of my days with work, I made sure I didn’t have time for social events. I didn’t want any part of them. My father enjoyed the spotlight and it killed him. I had no interest in being a person people felt familiar with.
As the limo went through the powered gate, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Stewart had a point, it was easy enough to get the information I wanted.
“Thank you for calling Hargrove’s,” the automated voice on the other end of the call answered. “You’ve reached the Human Resources department. Your call will be answered shortly.”
“Human Resources, this is Joan.”
“Joan, this is William King. I need you to give me some employee information.” I said.
“On a specific employee? I’m sorry Mr. King, but I can’t do that,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Its her schedule. You can and you will do it. Her name is Deborah and she’s in Men’s.”
“Yes—yes Mr. King, one moment. I found her. Deborah Hansen. It looks like she’s a new tailor in the men’s department. I only have this week’s schedule but it looks like she works days. Would you like me to—”
“That’s enough, Joan. Thank you,” I said as I hung up.
Stewart pulled the car up to the stone steps of the large gothic mansion I called my home. Stepping out of the car, the doors now working for me too, I glimpsed the large fountain at the center of the circular driveway, another of my mother’s finds.
Crossing behind the car, I ignored the damage knowing the car would be replaced. The oval fountain, with its three jets of water quietly shooting up into the air, caused cascading streams. Pulling a coin out of my pocket, I tossed it into the fountain as my mother taught me to do as a child. It was a habit I was unable to break, no matter how much it tugged at my heart. In all these years the only thing missing from the ritual she taught me was the wish. Wishes stopped when I was eight.#p#分页标题#e#