by R Weir
Unger had been brought in from out of town with his team because of their expertise, but at a higher cost, which his client didn’t seem to have a problem paying. Careful planning had brought them to this day. The whole mission had been working perfectly, up until they didn’t find the kids inside the limo. For what reason he had no clue which wouldn’t bode well for them, which was a concern. This was a results business, his employer expecting a positive outcome and all he could report was that they had failed. Zackery hoped to convince his client it wasn’t due to their incompetence. He didn’t care to end up rotting away in the tundra of the Rocky Mountains.
“Is it done?” queried the digitized voice on the other end of the call.
Zackery paused, bracing for a reaction. “We didn’t get them.”
“Why the hell not?” Even with digitation disguising the voice, the anger was clear, for the sound of a fist pounding a table was audible.
“The plan worked perfectly, but when we got inside the limo the children weren’t there.”
“Did they magically disappear?”
Zackery paused thinking over his response, his free hand twitching nervously. Thoughts of his possible demise for the failure filling his head.
“I’m not certain, their security detail wouldn’t tell me where they were. He claimed the limo was a decoy. It appears they switched their daily routine on us or were hiding somewhere inside. We ran out of time trying to find them and had to escape before the cops arrived. Either way their security team is down. One dead and two others injured.”
“Not the results I was paying for.” The voice sounded frustrated, more fist pounding pushing through the filter.
Zackery’s hand continued to twitch, knowing another mistake would doom him.
“I understand. We’ll get them next time.”
“It won’t be easy, now they’ll close ranks even tighter. I wanted the children in hand so I could spell out my demands.”
“Best we act quickly then before they can regroup. We did lose one of our own, so I’ll need to bring in a new member to the team.”
“Which will cost me more money no doubt!” bellowed the angry voice.
Zackery thought it was best not to talk costs at this time as his employer was already pissed. He’d cross that bridge once they delivered the teenagers. His client could certainly afford it.
“Do you have someone in mind?” inquired the digital voice when Zackery didn’t comment on his last statement.
“Not off the top of my head,” replied Zackery. “Since we aren’t from around here, I don’t have any local contacts.”
“Check with The Train Man. He can get you someone quickly with the proper skill set.”
The Train Man was an odd gentleman who had provided the tools they needed for the job. Zackery had felt uncomfortable around him due to his odd behavior, but he seemed to have all the right connections for the needed hardware. Finding a new man for the job shouldn’t be too difficult for him.
“I’ll go see him tomorrow.”
“Is there any way they can trace your dead man back to you?”
Zackery glanced over his shoulder and glared at the bloody body. He felt a tinge of remorse at the demise of his team member. They all knew it was a possibility that death could come a knocking with no notice.
“No. We gathered up the body before leaving and will make sure he isn’t found by the authorities, just like the other two.”
“Fine. Put your plan together swiftly and get the job done or I will have another team come after you.”
The line went dead and Zackery slammed the phone down on the seat next to him. He wasn’t used to failing and had no intention of it happening again. He directed the driver to take them to their home base to begin quickly putting together their next mission. A mission he had no desire to lose. Success was the only conceivable option his team had for survival.
***
Because of the explosion the bomb squad was called in, to make sure there were no other devices present. It took twenty minutes for them to declare the scene safe. Firefighters doused the flames and paramedics took care of the injured, the one dead covered up when it was determined there’s no hope for him. A Colorado Springs detective arrived and took over the scene. Tim Scanlon was making the rounds stunned by what he saw before him, trying to figure out what had happened. He’d seen much in his thirteen years on the force, but this was a first.
“Why the attack?” he asked the head of the bomb squad. “What were they after?”
“I have no clue. One man is dead, and the driver of the limo is unconscious. There’s another they’re working on now. He was shot twice but is still breathing.”
“Is he alert enough to talk?”
“Not certain. You’ll have to check with the paramedics.”
Detective Scanlon walked over to the two masked and gloved paramedics who were working on the injured man, who was still lying on the blood covered ground motionless. They had cut off most of his clothing to work on the gunshot wounds to his shoulder and knee. Scanlon checked the pockets of his jacket for ID and found his name, plus a business card. It said he was a private security consultant, providing protection to clients. It appeared he’d failed at the protection part of the job. The question was—what or who was he protecting?
“How is he?” queried Scanlon of the paramedics.
“He will live, but his injuries are serious. We’re having a hard time finding a pulse in the lower part of his injured leg. Might lose it if we don’t get him to the hospital in time.”
“Can he talk? I need to ask him a couple of questions.”
“He has been going in and out of consciousness. You can try, but we’re attempting to get him stable enough to get him to the ER.”
Scanlon leaned down closely and whispered in the injured man’s ear, careful not to touch him. Asking who he was and who he was protecting. He stirred a little and spoke back, his words forming slowly, but clearly, giving responses. A little more back and forth provided Scanlon what he needed. He stood up, walking over to the back of the limo, the door still open. He climbed in, searching around until he found a well-hidden button and pressed it. Part of the back seat went down, opening to reveal a space, where Olivia and Deion were hiding, terror overwhelming their expressions. Scanlon smiled, attempting to put them at ease.
“Olivia and Deion, your security guard, Lance was badly hurt and can’t talk to you,” he explained, learning their names from the injured man. “But he wanted me to say ‘Pepper’ so you knew it was safe.”
It was a keyword they had setup, the name of their dog, to be used to signal an all clear. Both teenagers squeezed through the tight space and out of the limo door, each shaking from what had happened. They had heard it all, but now they could see and smell the carnage and death around them.
“Is Lance going to be alright?” asked Olivia, seeing the blood as they worked on him.
“They’re doing the best they can,” replied Scanlon, trying to sound reassuring. “His wounds are serious, so only time will tell. Can you tell me what happened?”
“A truck rammed into us, knocking us off the road,” noted Deion, his hands on his face. “Lance ordered us to get into the hideaway space, which we did. Then we heard gunfire and yelling. Shortly after, an explosion shook the limo.”
“And you stayed put until I opened the compartment?” wondered Scanlon, impressed they hadn’t panicked.
“Yes. It was part of the training Lance gave us. Every day since this mess started, he trained us that no matter what happened we were to stay in there until he came and got us.” Deion was holding onto his sister now, his body still shaking.
“I think we should call our parents,” proclaimed Olivia.
Scanlon nodded in agreement, watching as she pulled out her phone to make the call. Her mother answered, and Olivia started crying. Scanlon grabbed the phone from her, identifying himself and began explaining, hoping to get some details. The mystery floating in the a
ir of why someone would go to such lengths to get these two kids was something he wanted to solve.
Chapter 2
Morning light filtered through the curtains of the hotel room, casting a beam across the queen-sized bed where two bodies slept. From his back, rose a naked Hunter Divine, his head pounding from a hard night of drinking, cloudy memories littering his mind, bits and pieces he couldn’t grab hold of. He shook his head to clear what cobwebs remained, finding his equilibrium before standing and walking over to the curtains. Taking a gander outside, the bright sunlight hurt his eyes, noticing the day was well underway, the clock by the bed showing in bright LED red—9:17.
His forty-three-year-old body felt stiff, a few scars and healed broken bones from the life he’d led made his first movements each morning challenging. Opening the curtains further, unworried if anyone saw his bare body, he reached both arms above his head and stretched as much as he could trying to loosen up. A fact which seemed harder to do with the beginning of each day of his complicated life. His mouth felt dry and his body dirty from a long night of vigorous sex with the still sleeping woman, whose name escaped him. They had meet in a bar a few blocks from the hotel, frequented by a younger up-scale crowd, the twenty-two-year-old female looking for an older man to hop in bed with. Hunter didn’t really care to find out the reason for this, he just enjoyed the attention her young body gave him, her insatiable desire driving his. They would likely never see each other again, but that was fine with him. It was a physical requirement fulfilled and one he happened to enjoy, even if there was a nagging guilt the next morning. The day would come when he would need to clean up his act and stop his licentious behavior, but that day seemed distant.
Hunter walked into the bathroom to relieve himself and then took a long look in the mirror, the redness in his eyes burning back at him via the silver backing. He didn’t like what he saw and hadn’t for some time now, his life turned upside down by a powerful US Senator. He’d taken work where he could find it, living from hotel to hotel, moving around wherever his employment took him. Once a US Marshal, that life had been forcefully taken away when someone he was protecting had been murdered. The guilt was still there, the memories while awake or asleep, still haunted him, buried beneath the drinking, drugs and one-night stands with whatever female he could find. He had money to move around, but even that wasn’t endless. When that day arrived, he would have to face the facts of what his life had become.
Houston was his temporary home now. The job finished; the fee collected for roughing up someone who had threatened his client. The point was made, the problem solved. His knuckles were still sore from the strategically placed shots to the man’s body. A far cry from the work he’d done in the past, which was satisfying, contrary to his current work that provided little joy. It paid well and kept his mind occupied and away from his troubled soul.
He walked back into the room and found a joint on the table, lighting it up, the no smoking sign staring him in the face. The substance was not legal in Texas, yet it didn’t stop the woman from having a couple in her purse which added to the festivities of the night before. Taking a long draw Hunter held it in before releasing the smoke, the stimulate helping to juice up his mind and body, a temporary mask for his physical and mental pain.
As he stood drawing on the smoke he heard stirring on the bed, the young naked blonde-haired college girl, twisted in the sheets, slowly rising. Scratching at her backside, she walked over to Hunter grabbing the joint from his hand and taking a draw, holding the smoke in for a long time before exhaling. He gazed at her, remembering the curve of her body, the smell of her perfume, but not much else. She was another roll in the hay he would soon forget about.
“Damn that feels good,” she said handing the spliff back to Hunter. She put her hands on his dark backside, giving his butt a squeeze. “Your ass is supreme too.”
She then walked into the bathroom, closing the door for an unknown reason, since there’s little they hadn’t shared the night before. Hunter took another draw and went to check his cellphone finding one message that had been left last night. He’d been too busy screwing to notice someone had called. The number was unknown to him, area code 719—a Colorado prefix—but he still listened to the message. It could have been a job, which he needed as he had no new prospects on the horizon and he would need all the money he could get before what he had dried up.
Pushing the call button to his voice mail he put it up to his ear, and when he heard the familiar voice his eyebrows raised, attention peeked.
“Hunter, it’s Paige Hawkins, though you may remember me as Paige Sellers. I know it has been a while since we spoke but I need your help. Someone tried to kidnap my daughter and son today.” She paused, sounding upset, trying to compose herself. “Sorry, I’m shaking because I’m scared. This is the second time they have tried and this time one of the men on our security team was killed and two others injured. I feel like I’m begging…but I really could use your help as I have no idea who else to turn to or why someone wants my kids. I’m worried to death.” Her breathing sounded labored during another pause. “Can you please call me right away? I realize we have history together, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to. I know you have the skills to protect them. I’m willing to pay whatever you want, which I’m certain you know I can afford. I implore you to call me back. Please Hunter I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them…thank you.”
Hunter knew the voice and knew the name, and yes they had a history, though not one that ended happily. A lover from his distant past that added to his internal ache. More regret about one more mistake he’d made, part of a long list. A wish he could turn back time to correct.
He thought about the request for a minute and then hit the save button. He would have to think long and hard about this. He could use the work and she had the financial resources to pay well. Money was a temptation that was difficult to turn down no matter the trepidation he felt at the prospect of seeing her again. Hunter put the phone down on the table and took another draw on the joint, not much of it remaining, before blowing it out the open window.
The blonde-haired woman came out of the bathroom, still naked and walked up behind Hunter. She pushed her body up against him, her arms wrapped around his waist before her hands rubbed his washboard abs and defined pecs. His physique a product of a rigorous daily workout routine that matched his sexual thirst.
“That was one hell of a night, Daddy-o,” she cooed into his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve had so many orgasms in one evening. You sure do know your way around a woman’s anatomy.”
Indeed he did. He’d had a lot of practice throughout the years, though rarely with the same woman and never more than a few times. It was important to him to make sure to provide the pleasure they longed for, while keeping his distance from the ties of a relationship. He loved their body shapes—big and small, tight and curvy. Their smells and tastes drove his desire to satisfy them, knowing they would return the favor. A passionate moment in time inside them to escape his demons.
“You know your way around the male anatomy,” he replied, feeling satisfied but fuzzy on the details of what they did.
Her hands started travelling downwards, checking to see his response to her body against his. She got the answer she was looking for.
“Oh my. Even after all that screwing last night you still can get it up. Maybe we can start the day out right.”
She started kissing his back, her lips trailing along his shoulders, ignoring the scars, down his right arm, all the while her hands were stroking him. Hunter’s eyes closed, feeling his heartrate increase, desire swelling to a fevered pitch. He turned around, feeling energized with lust. Grabbing her face, he kissed it with a fiery passion, that left her weak kneed.
“Take me,” she cried out.
“I can’t,” he said, remembering one aspect of the night before. “We used the last condom on our final fuck. Best to play it safe.”
“I’m on the pill if y
ou’re worried about knocking me up,” she uttered.
That wasn’t his main concern, getting an STD was a bigger issue. He’d been infected a few years back after a drunken night of debauchery. The discomfort remaining for several weeks until a diagnosis and antibiotics cured the infection. Ever since then he had been more careful. It was not pain he ever wanted to repeat.
“Good to know, but I still like backup just in case.”
She looked up at him, a wildfire in her eyes. “How about we try a position that doesn’t require a condom and is one of my favorites.”
Her mouth began kissing his neck, then his chest, nipples, abs; downward she went making her horny thoughts evident, before spinning his body around and pushing him on the bed, climbing on top in a reverse position. It would seem Hunter would delay, at least for this morning, cleaning up his incessant behavior, bringing on one final dose of orgasmic pleasure for them both.
Chapter 3
Monument Colorado was a town which sat directly north of Colorado Springs and the United States Air Force Academy, split down the middle by interstate 25. Though a small town, it had tripled in size over the last twenty years, expanding out from the Rampart Range and Pike National Forest. All part of the booming growth of much of El Paso County.
A portion of that growth was a strip mall housing several small businesses, including Family Hobby World. A retail establishment where you could pick up anything; from various plastic models for assembly, to remote control cars, trucks, airplanes, and drones to fly, covering every price range. It was a grand place to come and find an activity you or the whole household could savor. But beyond the storefront of all this hobby entertainment items could be procured that were not meant for the family. This was where The Train Man could be found, for the right price.
