The more I sit in silence, the more I panic. My shirt sticks to my back in the thick, hot air. My stifled breaths in and out surround me. I cough, a tickle grabbing hold of my throat. I muster up and swallow what spit I have. I close my eyes tight and ignore the fears that threaten to consume me.
Chad
The grit from the parking lot crunches between my teeth and mixes with the blood trickling from my lip. My vision is blurry but I make out the taillights as the guys who beat my ass skid out of the parking lot in a cloud of exhaust.
I roll onto my back. A groan pushes up from my chest. My head, stomach and back pulse with pain. One word beats in my heart and spreads rapidly through my body and into my brain. This one thought rises above the physical pain. Katie.
That asshole took her.
My petty life is nothing compared to this. This feels bigger and deeper than I can even fathom. My father goes for the big cases. He goes for the win. That’s why he used me as bait to collect the dirt. Well, he has it now. I push up to my knees, coughing and spitting the blood. It splatters onto the ground, the dirt soaking it up, leaving only vague traces of the crime.
The keys to Jimmy’s car are still in my pocket. They dig into my skin. Every second I sit here is a second wasted, the time for helping Katie running past me, leaving me in the dust. If I go straight to my father and spill the entire story he might do nothing and let his private investigators look into it, but that could be too late. She needs help now. My father won’t give two fucks about an innocent girl I care about.
If I had known that this “internship” was really about baiting the bad guys, I would’ve pushed her away a long time ago. The knowledge that my father would sink this low and not think twice about putting me in this position drains my energy. I feel it deep in my bones. I can’t even pretend that he’s just too busy.
I professed for years that I didn’t care about my dad. But I do. I did anyway. A light sprinkling of rain hits my face as a wind whips through and sparks me to action. I stumble across the parking lot toward Jimmy’s car. My thoughts turn to Katie. All those innocent dates, sweet and fun, with her, wrap around me. I used her to improve my image. But somewhere throughout our time together I fell for her. I’d move the world for her. I don’t care about my safety anymore or my dad or his fucking case. I dragged Katie into this. I’m going to find her and kick Kingston’s ass. Whatever it takes.
I text Jimmy with Kingston’s address. I make sure he knows that if he doesn’t hear from me within an hour to call the cops. For the first time, I rely on someone else, because I might not be enough.
The roads are clear, just the stain of the recent rain left behind. The skies are dark but the weather holds back. The engine races and I grip the steering wheel, focused and trying to forget the throbbing pain in my gut and face. I screech around the corner and head into the wealthy part of town. No parking down the street this time. That asshole’s going to know I’m here for him.
The iron gates loom in front of me. The house beyond it rises large and dark into the sky. I press hard on the gas, revving the engine, pushing the car as fast as it will go.
“Sorry, Jimmy.”
His car will be totaled after this. I don’t waver. I go faster. It rushes toward me. No turning back. Slam! Jimmy’s car crashes into the fence. My body is thrown forward, my head banging against the wheel. The slow ache from the beating becomes sharp, not letting me forget.
In a haze of pain, I sit in shock that my plan worked. I couldn’t completely break through the fence but it moved, bent just enough for me to slip through. Smoke pours from the engine. The front is mangled, twisted pieces of bumper and the hood is shoved back into itself. I stumble to the trunk. It lifts with a creak.
Under the mat lies Jimmy’s stash. He doesn’t think I know about the gun he hides here. He doesn’t ask me about my business and I don’t ask him. That’s the way it’s always been. I tuck it into the back of my pants and then squeeze through the opening in the iron gates.
I sprint across the grass. I don’t even try to barge through the front door. With my elbow, I smash a side window. The glass shatters and falls around me. Alarms screech through the air. I climb through.
“Hey, dick head!” I shout into the house. The grandeur mocks me, taunting me that no one is here, that somehow I made a huge mistake. Sirens wail in the distance.
“Your time is running short.” My words soak into the walls and the carpet, muffled by the alarm, useless. Through the pain, my gut tells me I messed up. That asshole should’ve already appeared. I run straight to the stairs and take them two at a time. I smell traces of Katie’s body spray. Or is it my imagination?