by J. P. Hansen
Chase frowned, inhaled deeply, then lowered his tone, “Look, I know what Stabilitas means to you. Unfortunately, I don’t think our greedy board cares about saving lives unless they can make a killing first.”
Brooke pulled her hand back, and crinkled her brows, “If that’s that your idea of humor—”
“No. That’s not what I meant to…Here I go again, saying the wrong thing.” Chase continued, “I’m going to tell you inside information that could get me fired.”
“I’m not looking to hurt you, if that’s what you mean. You can trust me. I didn’t tell anybody at Pharmical about us, and I won’t break your trust now.”
“Okay, here goes,” Chase gulped, “In the last three board meetings, more than a few people have complained about our GenSense acquisition. Our M&A team has been secretly shopping it, but haven’t found any takers.”
Brooke’s eyes widened, “Oh my God…”
“Marvin Wixfeldt, who I call ‘The Butcher’, wrote it in his chop report. The same one that advised outsourcing your old department. I’ve seen enough to know if he recommends it, it happens fast.”
“They can’t do that. They just bought it.”
“That board is only interested in the stock…”
“Doesn’t a scientific breakthrough that cures an incurable disease increase the stock?”
Chase bit his lip, “You sound like me. I pride myself on building businesses, even if it takes a long time. I had a nasty argument with Stoddard and so far, lost the battle and the war.”
“All it takes is approval in the U.S. for it to—”
“Unless it can be done with a magic wand overnight, they won’t even listen.” Brooke’s eyes stung.
Chase lowered his voice, saying, “All they want to discuss is anti-depressants. Wall Street dictates focusing on our core products, and we’re afraid to buck them.”
“What about doing what’s right? Making the world a better place? Saving lives?”
“I agree with you more than you know—”
“So, do something about it. You’re the freaking CEO!”
Chase sighed, “All my life, I wanted to be a Chief Executive Officer—the big boss. But now, I hate the job. It’s all bullshit politics with chickenshit policies. You have to know I tried to do something with GenSense. Sometimes, it’s not enough.”
“Well then, I hope they sell it quickly, to someone with a vision.”
After a few moments, she plopped beside Chase, causing the bed to bob. Well into the bottle, the bubbly buzzed them. Brooke said, “I don’t know what it is with this stuff, but it makes me crazy.” The last few words slurred.
“Me too,” Chase grinned, then said, “Well, without knowing Rusty’s last name, there’s nothing much we can do until morning.” Brooke felt that familiar surge inside. They locked eyes…
Their lips met with intensity. Though the champagne loosened their inhibitions, they didn’t need it; their relationship had developed new depth. A magnetic pull they didn’t resist. This time kissing with lights on, as they retreated for air, they gazed into each other’s eyes—as if joining souls. Like lovers for the first time, they embraced again.
Brooke felt lightheaded, marveling at his magical way of igniting her passion. She didn’t want the feeling to ever end. Chase wrapped his sturdy arms behind Brooke and locked lips in another deep kiss. Their hands explored each other, launching rockets of desire. With tongues dancing, they traded moans.
Chase dropped Brooke’s robe with a whoosh of chilled air. His hands warmed her. Chase kissed her neck and Brooke giggled, then his mouth warmed her.
Brooke’s hand searched for his belt buckle, but landed below, causing him to groan. Brooke’s eyes widened as her hand massaged his slacks. His lips sprinkled down, kissing her, tickling her. Their breathing became heavy, as they pleasured each other with a fresh familiarity.
Chase ripped open his belt and lowered his zipper. In an instant, he pulled his pants and boxers to the floor. He slid Brooke’s thong down, sending a tingling sensation, then caressed her inner thigh. Their lips joined and sloppily engaged in lover’s delight. With lips locked, Chase slowly lowered her back…
Brooke gasped as he entered her. Chase paused, then kissed her deeply. They moved together, then Brooke started pulsing her hips. She tightened, causing him to move in and out slowly. The unhurried deliberate pace felt titillating. Their breathing increased, matched by faster and deeper thrusts…
Then, Chase pulled away, and fell beside Brooke, with tiny beads of sweat forming all over his body.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.
“I’m sorry…I don’t think I can…”
Brooke pressed her finger to his moistened lips, and said, “Shhhhh. It’s alright. I understand.”
Brooke reached her arm around Chase then ran her other hand through his wavy locks. Chase’s eyes welled up. He said, “I’m sorry…it’s not you…”
“Shhhhhhh.”
With lips trembling, he said, “I’m scared. I just don’t know what I’d do if Parker…I’ve got to find him.”
“We’re gonna find him—tomorrow. I can feel it.”
“I should have called the cops—”
“Hey, no second guessing. Live in the present.” Brooke channeled Shane’s coaching.
Brooke soothed Chase with her gentle voice and touch; the tears slowed as his eyes shut. Within seconds, his breathing deepened. She pulled a blanket over him and continued caressing his face until her eyes felt heavy. They cuddled until morning.
Chase awoke to strange sounds. He noticed he was naked—in a bear hug with Brooke, trembling, with eyes flickering. He couldn’t understand her words, but guessed she was having a nightmare; he awakened her with a tender kiss on her forehead.
Brooke’s eyes shot open and she said, “Huh…”
Chase smiled, then said, “Were you dreaming of Prince Charming or the Wicked Witch?”
“Oh, I was dreaming,” Brooke decided against revealing the dream and kissed Chase on the chest and cheek.
“I’ve made a decision—I’m going to the police…”
Brooke hugged Chase tightly, then said, “Are you sure? We could try for one more—”
“No, I should’ve done it sooner. I was a selfish coward…”
“No you weren’t…” A powerful surge swept inside Brooke. Their lips met.
Brooke pulled back, eyeing Chase, as she said, “Don’t get me excited…We have a big day. Today, we find Parker.”
With the park opening at nine, they had to hurry. Quick showers—alone—another room service, then Brooke left to pick up a few things, while Chase made the call he’d been dreading. He punched in nine-one-one, and drew a deep breath.
After the introductory information, Chase said, “My four-year old son’s been kidnapped and I have reason to believe he’s going to be at Disney World today.”
“Was he abducted in Disney World?”
“No, in North Carolina, and I know who did it.”
“Have the kidnappers contacted you with ransom demands?”
“No.”
“How do you know who did it?”
“It was my soon to be ex-wife and her boyfriend.”
After a pause, the female 911 operator’s voice turned snippy, “Sir, this sounds like a domestic dispute. You are calling on an emergency line. You need to go through the courts.”
“I have been granted sole custody through a court order. She is in violation—”
“There’s nothing we can do. You mentioned it’s your soon to be ex-wife?”
“Yes, and her boyfriend.”
“And, they allegedly kidnapped your son?”
“Yes.”
“I’m confused. Where did they kidnap him?”
“They kidnapped him up from preschool in North Carolina.”
“So, your wife picked up her son from preschool and is taking him to Disney—that’s hardly an emergency kidnapping case. You need to call—”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, I have a court order that she is in violation of, and she’s wanted for dealing drugs.”
“Dealing drugs? In North Carolina?”
“No, in Minnesota.”
“Minnesota? Now I’m really confused. Plus, we have no jurisdiction or access to Minnesota’s records.”
“Can you at least check and see? She’s a drug addict and dangerous—I’m worried about the safety of my son. Please help me.”
“Give me her name and I’ll forward it to our non-emergency personnel. They will contact you within twenty-four hours.”
Chase feared by the time the local cops called, it would be too late. He buried his head in his hands, not knowing whether to cry or scream—or both. I’ve got to find him.
“Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl” jolted him. He thought, that was fast, as he answered. It was Brooke, who said she was on her way. As he explained his frustrating call, it infuriated him further, distancing him from the task at hand. His stomach churned and it wasn’t from the breakfast. He gazed into the magic mirror on the wall and wished for his son back—and a quad espresso.
At 8:45 a.m., Brooke and Chase paced in front of the main entrance. They both wished they brought sunglasses—the sunshine state lived up to its billing. The couple plodded like the Secret Service along the ruts they had formed—no sign of Parker. Chase’s disguise of goofy ears and T-shirt caught a few stares and even a giggle, but Brooke thought he looked cute.
Just after nine a.m., they entered the Magic Kingdom and decided to divide and conquer. Even with the disguise, he feared Heather would notice him before he spotted her. Chase camped on a shaded bench near Splash Mountain; Brooke stood just inside the main entrance. After three hours, Brooke needed to use the rest room. Chase scolded her for having two cups of tea, then snickered. While scanning the oncoming crowds, he power-walked to the front entrance and relieved her of her duty. Then, she did the same—still no sign of them.
Just as Chase left his bench, Parker, Heather, and Rusty waltzed into the line for Splash Mountain. They had walked right past Brooke but with Parker’s new hair color, she didn’t recognize him.
When the ride ended, they exited. Parker begged to go on it again, but Rusty growled and Heather’s stomach churned, so she said they’d come back to it later. Parker ran ahead while Heather and Rusty trudged along, unable to keep up. The noon sun overheated their backs, erasing their morning buzz.
Chase settled back on his bench next to an elderly couple, just missing his son. He checked his cell—still no call from the police. So much for serve and protect.
Brooke’s ankle flared up and her legs hurt. She hated standing still. The crowd entering had gone from throngs earlier to steady flow now. She thought, maybe they’ll come in after lunch. She found a bench that still had a decent view of the three lines to enter and wished for a food vendor.
The afternoon dragged on. Chase checked in with Brooke every hour. He hated hanging up as hearing her voice provided his only form of comfort. He wondered what it would be like to sit beside her on the famous Splash Mountain ride—would she scream? Or laugh?
By six o’clock, their patience had worn thin. Hunger pangs hit both of them. They grudgingly decided to wait another hour.
Brooke stared at the boy, two steps ahead of the arguing couple. Familiar face, about Parker’s height, but the blond spiked hair looked strange. Then it hit…
Purple sneakers—it has to be him! Clutching her bag, she advanced like a torpedo. Brooke punched what she hoped was the send button on her cell, but didn’t have enough time to talk. As she neared, she heard the guy calling the woman a nasty word—had to be Rusty. Thank God for those shoes.
“Parker?”
The little boy glanced up, and squinted. The low setting sun blinded him, but she recognized the eyes. The couple behind him continued bickering. Brooke heard her say, “Asshole,” as Parker rolled his eyes.
Brooke stopped directly in front of Parker, blocking the sun. His brown eyes nearly exploded, “Miss Ingram!”
The woman paused while the guy kept yelling. She glared, saying, “Parker, do you know this woman?”
“It’s my teacher, Miss Ingram.”
Rusty stopped and frowned through bloodshot eyes. He shot a glance at Heather, then back to Brooke, then stood open mouthed in a daze. Heather scowled.
Brooke stretched out her arms and said, “You’re safe—thank God.”
Parker stepped forward to hug Brooke. Heather said, “What the fuck?” Brooke dropped her purse and the contents strewed across the pavement. She gripped Parker in a monkey hug.
Heather glared at Rusty and said, “Do something. Don’t just stand there,” as she tried to yank Parker away from Brooke.
Rusty said, “Let go or die bitch.” Brooke froze, gasping as she spotted the butt of the gun. Rusty struggled to pull the .38 special out of his pants. Brooke released her grip on Parker, then lunged for her lipstick…Time stood still.
Then, she emptied pepper spray into Rusty’s eyes. He fell hard, shrieking as his rubbing only made it worse. Heather said, “What the hell…” as she knocked the container out of Brooke’s hands, then dove on Rusty. Not realizing it was Heather trying to grab the pistol, Rusty bucked her off like a bronco, “Get the fuck off me!”
Brooke reached for the other pepper spray as Heather kicked her.
Parker said, “MOMMY DON’T.”
Brooke gripped the bottle, but couldn’t stand. Her rib cage seared with each heavy breath. Then, Heather gripped Brooke’s throat while jamming her knee into Brooke’s newly broken ribs. Heather’s face shuddered in a rage. The pain was excruciating. Somehow, she managed to lift her hand ever so slightly…
The spray blinded Brooke, but she felt her neck ease. Brooke could tell by the screech that she nailed Heather. Then, Brooke heard the voice of an angel…
“Daddy!”
Chapter 20
A crowd had begun to gather, and security personnel were approaching.
Father and son collided literally and emotionally. Parker clung to his leg, happy to see his daddy. Chase said, “I’m here little buddy. Everything’s gonna be—”
“Be careful Chase—he has a gun.” Brooke swung her head back and forth wildly but she couldn’t see.
Rusty propped up on one knee, wiping his eyes but unable to open them. He ripped the gun from inside his jeans, and pointed it toward the direction of Brooke’s voice. Then, he pulled the trigger—
“Fuck!” He shook the gun, then clutched it in both hands, clawing for the safety switch. Just as it clicked, his eyes flicked open. He took dead aim at Chase’s head…
Rusty trembled as the taser paralyzed him. He hadn’t noticed the officer behind him. Another second later and Parker would have been fatherless. The guard held the trigger until Rusty fell on his side. While he shook, the guard slapped a handcuff on Rusty’s right wrist; then he yanked Rusty’s flaccid arm behind his back and locked down on the other wrist.
With foot pressing Rusty’s face into the hot asphalt, the guard said, “What’s going on here?”
Heather was the first to scream, then Brooke tried to out-yell her. They both were sprawled on the ground, still blinded. Chase lifted Parker into his arms, then stepped toward the guard, who said, “Hold it right there!” and pointed his taser at Chase. Parker burrowed into Chase’s chest and squeezed his arm like a tourniquet.
Chase froze, raised his free hand in the air, and motioned his head at Heather and Rusty, saying, “Those two kidnapped my son. Arrest them.”
Heather said, “That’s bullshit! He’s my son! I don’t even know the bitch who maced me. Arrest them.”
The guard said, “Nobody move,” then pressed his walkie-talkie and said, “This is Henderson. Call 911. I have a situation at the front gate.”
Rusty spun and kicked the legs out from under the officer. Henderson fell hard on his left shoulder, dropping his taser. Rusty jammed his head into the guard’s face, shattering his no
se. Rusty kicked the taser away, then booted Henderson’s stomach. The bloody officer locked into the fetal position and howled in agony. Rusty spotted his gun, then turned and grabbed it…
Chase kicked as hard as he could squarely in Rusty’s nuts, and the gun fired.
Henderson’s eyes popped open; he gripped his knee. Blood began soaking his slacks.
Chase couldn’t reach the gun—Parker weighed too much. And, there was no chance Parker would loosen his grip. Chase’s foot landed once more in Rusty’s crotch just as the cavalry arrived. A police officer dove on Rusty and severed the gun from his grip. Four other officers descended on the scene. They grabbed Parker and then handcuffed everyone else and hauled them into Disney’s security office.
An officer sat with Parker and asked, “Are you okay little man?” Parker nodded.
Inside, all four detainees beseeched their innocence in a cacophony. Efforts to quiet them only worsened the situation.
Brooke was released first and immediately found Parker. She hugged him and rocked him back and forth, saying, “It’s going to be alright. You’re safe now.” Just as Parker asked about his father, Chase darted in the room. He bear hugged Brooke and Parker. And, all three breathed again.
Douglas “Rusty” John and accomplice Heather Allman were arrested once the first of two felony sized bags of cocaine were discovered. Marijuana, methamphetamines, and heroin added to their impending doom. And, that didn’t include what the police would find in their car. Rusty faced multiple felony charges: concealed weapon, use of a deadly weapon—shooting a cop could bring the death penalty in Florida—even if the officer didn’t die. Compounding the couple’s troubles, the reports from Minnesota tied them for public enemy number one. Rusty stole the wrong bags from the wrong people before fleeing Minnesota.
After the police failed to serve Heather, they searched the house, finding stolen goods and enough drugs to supply Woodstock. To avoid felony drug trafficking time, the spurned friends of Rusty had copped pleas, pinning everything on Rusty and Heather. Then, in separate interrogation rooms, the two blamed each other. Freedom didn’t look good.
