CHASE

 

476 Rothello-Pike Drive.

It’s a cute, kind of quaint neighborhood. The kind of neighborhood I’d never be able to live in after what I went through overseas. It’s too, dare I say, normal and quiet. It’s like it’s out of a charming housewife television show.

I pull the car curbside a few houses down from Summer’s place and kill the ignition. I glance around the neighborhood, all the houses the same shade of white conformity with white-picket fences and the faint sound of a dog barking from the cul-de-sac down the way.

There was a time when I was a young boy that I was terrified of dogs. I grew up in a one-parent household and to assist paying the bills, I took up a job as a paper boy, delivering the local paper to people living in quaint houses just like these.

And then a pitbull bit me in the ass.

It took a long time to recover from that grueling, terrifying incident. The physical toll didn’t last long, but the mental turmoil persisted over the years until my tour in Iraq. Suddenly, a damn dog didn’t seem scary in the least bit.

I step out of the white car and look both ways before crossing the street. There’s a chance whoever kidnapped Summer’s sister has eyes on the house, so I know I need to be careful. My gut instinct tells me we’re not exactly dealing with career criminals. Instead, I’d wager that the two men saw two defenseless women wearing diamonds around their necks and figured they’d be easy targets.

They weren’t expecting someone like me to intervene. On that level, my interference is partially to blame for Taylor’s abduction. If I weren’t there, the men probably would have made out with two diamonds worth a fortune but both women would have been relatively unharmed.

It’s supposed to be my day off. I sigh before making my way up the short paved driveway, looking over my shoulder once more before circling around to the back door.

It’s unlocked, which of course it is. With how dangerous the world is becoming—more and more dangerous each and every day—it seems people are becoming less careful and cautious when they should be taking more strict measures when it comes to their own security.

I peek my head inside, assuming nobody’s home but still taking the proper precautions. Summer wasn’t wearing a ring when I rescued her—although her sister was—and as an older woman, I’d assume she’s not living with a roommate, but you can never really know.

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.