LOLA

 

Not wanting to make Zach walk the remainder of the mile to get to where we were going, I hailed a cab. And when we shuffled inside the back of the yellow cab, the driver’s eyes glared at us in the rearview mirror. So I offered the man a hundred dollars to not say anything or ask too many questions about why Zach was injured with a bullet wound in his side.

It's not a fatal injury, not even close. In fact, the bullet only grazed his side. He's going to be fine but still I didn't want to make him walk that long distance after being shot. And besides, I figured we stood our best chance of actually reaching our destination if we were inside of a vehicle.

The cab pulls into a gravel lot and approaches an old, abandoned factory. There are three white cars parked outside the building next to two black SUVs. They all look like company cars, with no indication of a personal vehicle in sight.

The cab driver applies the brakes and we come to a stop just outside what looks like the front door. Zach had said that this was the safest location he could think of, but I'm starting to question his sanity. Unless there is a super secret bunker inside, then I don't see how this is save at all.

Maybe it's safe because he believes nobody will be able to find us here. Or maybe it's safe for other reasons. All I know is that right now it doesn't matter. I just want to get out of this cab and inside the building.

I push open my door, climb to my feet and race around the other side of the cab to open Zach’s door for him. When I lean down to assist him, he averts my help and climbs to his feet on his own.

"Thank you, but I'm fine." He closes the door behind him and braces a hand against my back as the cab driver pulls away. "Well, this is it."

My eyes shift back to the factory. “What is this place?"

A smile hitches across his lips, defying any sense that he's feeling pain at all right now. "I told you. This is the safest place I can think of right now. In fact, it might just be one of the safest places in the world outside of a presidential bunker."

"But it looks like in abandoned factory."

"Yeah, that's kind of the point.” He reaches for my hand as he begins to pace towards the front door. "This is where we do all of our research. This is our homebase."

"For Ford Security?” I question, but the answer seems obvious. "So, this is the elusive hideout. I was beginning to think that it didn't exist."

"It's just that it is top-secret." He shrugs with a gentle chuckle. "We are not supposed to bring anyone back here but it seems like everyone else has been lately so why the hell not?"

He opens the front steel door for me and then holds it open as I make my way inside. I'm hit with an instant smell of musk, dust, and rust. It's a potent combination that sets my senses on fire and not in the best way possible.

The space of the main floor is mostly empty with the exception of concrete pillars that hold the building in place. There's a yellow railing that goes around the catwalk that circles the entire place. And to my right is another door that looks like it leads to an office.

I follow him into that door and into what looks like a functional office. There are a few desks and quite a few chairs. There is even a computer on each desk. However I get the sense that it's all just a front. There has to be more to this room because I don't see any doors except for one small door behind one of the desks.

I actually begin to get a little excited at the prospect that there might be a secret bunker after all. This is some serious superhero shit and I'm loving it. I always fancied myself as the kind of girl who would grow up to be a villain. I always figured I would take after my father.

But there was something inside of me that changed just a few short years ago. It was a nagging voice in the back of my head screaming that I didn't want to be anything like my father. I found myself feeling emotions that I didn't want to feel. I found myself weighed down by the burden of my father’s actions.

That's when I first realized that I couldn't be my father's daughter.

Zach opens the door in the back of the room to reveal what looks like a very small room. If I didn't know any better, I would say it's about the size of an elevator shaft. But that would be insane, right?

Well it's obviously not that insane.

Once the both of us are inside the small room, the doors sling to a close. And when Zach reaches forward and presses a button, the elevator begins descending down the shaft. Behind me the brick walls give way to concrete walls. And when we come to a stop at the bottom, the doors sling open once again.

And it's a breathtaking view of a high tech facility right out of the pages of the comic book. I've always known that Zach, Zane, and whoever else he associates with were capable of playing in the big leagues. But I never imagined an operation like this.

He steps out of the elevator first and I follow suit. But when my feet land against the concrete floor, I can't help but come to a stop as my eyes take in the entirety of the place. The ceilings are high and the space is vast, almost as big as the main floor above.

There are two doors to the right and two doors to the left. And just up ahead is a series of computer monitors that are all shut down, the screens black. All the way on the far side of the facility is a steel door that leads to what looks like an interrogation room. And right in the middle of the floor is a training mat with all of the best physical equipment. I'd take a wild guess that an Olympic athlete could train here.

I imagine it was in this very facility that Zach became the strong man he is today. I'm not doubting that he has always been strong. After all, someone doesn't build a body like that just overnight, but I’m assuming working here has only worked to strengthen his physique.

“This way,” Zach says to me as he takes a step to the left and begins pacing towards the first of the two doors on the nearest wall.

When he pushes open the door, I see that it's a small bedroom. There is a small twin-sized bed pushed against the wall and a dresser on the opposite wall. In the back left-hand corner of the room is another door that leads to a bathroom.

I shift to the bed and take a seat. My ass pushes deep against the thin mattress. It's not a comfortable bed by any stretch of the imagination but I'm sure it'll do in a pinch. I'm sure it'll do for tonight.

Zach moves to the dresser and picks up an old, corded phone. He dials a number from his memory and then places the phone against his ear. He waits impatiently for someone to answer and when they do, he springs to life. "Thank God you answered, Marcus."

My mind wonders who this Marcus is, but I quickly realize it's probably one of the people that work for Ford Security. Just another mysterious entity I’ll probably never meet.

"I need you to come down here, Marcus." He scratches at the back of his head and forces a grin. "I've got myself into a little bit of a situation and I need your help." He cocks his head sideways and chuckles. “You’re already here? Then why don't I see you?” He nods as he listens and then rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you in about two minutes then.”

He hangs up the phone and then turns back to me, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and then immediately grunts out loud and grimaces, from pain I suspect. Thank the lord, but I’ve never taken a bullet in my life and I hope to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“Your side,” I rise to stand and guide myself towards him. “How is it?”

He glances down at the wound, it’s bloody but it doesn’t look too serious.

“I’ve been through far worse,” he says with a light chuckle, though I don’t think there’s anything particularly funny about being shot. “I’ve seen people survive worse. I’ve seen people lose limbs and I’ve seen—”

“Yeah, I get it,” I interrupt and reach down to the bottom hem of his shirt to peel it over his head. He assists by pushing his hands above his head as I strip the shirt from his body. I dispose of the shirt and then press a gentle palm against his steel chest, admiring his strength and the feeling of his bare skin underneath my touch.

He bores down into my eyes with a serious look and I can’t help but to force an awkward smile and take a measured step back. He reaches forward to close the distance between us and presses a warm hand against my cheek.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’m going to be fine. I am fine. And I’m going to continue being just fine. We have much bigger issues to worry about than this flesh wound, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll have Marcus take a look at it when he gets here.”

“Who is Marcus anyways?”

He smiles at me and rolls his eyes. “He’s only the smartest guy in all the world.”

“Really?” I arch a brow, inquisitive.

“No.” He shakes his head and laughs softly. “But when he gets here, please don’t mention that I said that.”

“Scouts honor.” I hold up the two appropriate fingers, although maybe I’m mixing my signals up with each other. “I won’t say a word.”

“Zach?” A man hollers from the other room, and I’m a little taken aback that the walls in this place aren’t soundproof. “Come on, asshole. I don’t have all day.”

“We should probably go.” He scrunches his nose before digging into the dresser and grabbing a t-shirt to pull over his head. “Ready?”