Page 8 of Stryker
She was clearly of an age where most young people had moved out into their own places. Most people her age were building their own lives, meeting significant others, settling down, having children. All things she didn’t seem to be doing and I wondered why.
Her angry neighbor slipped back into his place and the kids circled the block and left their bikes on their sides, tires spinning lazily, and ran inside. A dog chained up in someone’s back yard began to go crazy, barking and running back and forth as the kids raced out into the backyard right next to it and began to climb a tree.
Kat was a puzzle, an enigma to be solved. Not that it was a damn bit of my business. But when things didn’t fit, they bothered me. She didn’t fit. Not with her need to work two jobs, living at home, being the sole provider—if I’d understood her—and her stubborn need to carry on like people hadn’t tried to kill her today.
The stench of fear filled my nose and every muscle in my body tightened. I scanned the block two out from hers and tried to find it. There it was; the house on the furthest corner from her place. Shades suddenly closed and I knew something bad had just happened as the scent of fear dissipated. Hopefully they’d only knocked someone out. But I could smell multiple unwashed, sweating bodies with evil intent.
I shifted and flew toward her house. Landing in her backyard, I shifted and casually walked around to the front. I strode up the steps and rapped on the door with my knuckles. The chipped gray paint dug into my skin and I stood, staring at the door.
“One second!” Her voice called from the other side of the door. A moment later she pulled it open and jolted in place. Her spine snapped straight, her lovely chocolate eyes widened, and her full lips parted in shock. “You?”
5
Kat
“Stryker.” He offered his hand and I took it. “Kat, right?” he asked, a slight curve on the corners of his lips. I nodded. His amusement vanished as if he remembered why he’d shown up and he let go of my hand and his warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.
Excitement surged through me at the contact. My heart slammed into my ribs like stormy ocean waves against the hull of a ship as he tugged me out on the front stoop. He quickly closed the door behind me as his eyes roamed the front of the house, like he could see through it to the people inside.
“Everything okay?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“Can your parents drive?”
Okay, that was my new headliner for ‘what’s the weirdest question a stranger has asked you.’ Still, I had a feeling now was not the time to mess around.
“Dad can. But Mom won’t leave the house.” Why was he asking me this? Were we all in danger? Of course we were.
He placed both hand on my shoulders and ducked his head to look me dead in the eyes. “Okay, I need you to trust me.” I nodded, mute. I trusted him. Why would he kill me now after saving me earlier? What did he have to gain by killing me now?
And if he really wanted to kill me, this was a strange way to go about it. Bad things happened to people in this neighborhood easily. If he busted in, tossed the place, killed all of us, the police would hardly even investigate. They’d assume some crack head broke in, either thinking it was his place and killed everyone, or that we were robbed for drugs or money to use for more drugs.
“I trust you.”
He nodded. “Good, good. Tell them they won something.”
Before I could ask questions, he spun me around, opened the door and propelled me inside. I led him in to where my parents were. Dad was in his usual spot, but Mom had tucked herself into the seat I’d seen her holding me in my baby pictures.
“Mom, Dad, we won something!” I stayed as upbeat as possible, trying to convince them, even though I hated lying to them. Still, I had a feeling it was better than telling them the truth. Bad guys were out to kill us thanks to Dad’s habits.
Dad looked stunned and Mom’s wide, soulful eyes strayed over my shoulder to Stryker. Her words echoed in my mind;He’d be crazy not to see how amazing you are. Maybe she was right. After all, he was here, helping me, even though I didn’t have an extra penny to my name, and I couldn’t dream of paying him.
“She’s right! You’ve won an all-expenses paid vacation to the Netherlands!” He stepped around me and offered a manila envelope.
My dad stared at him. “We don’t have our passports.”
But Stryker nodded, his wide, friendly grin never wavering. “Taken care of! Everything you need is in the envelope.”
My mom shifted and took the envelope from Stryker’s outstretched hand. She opened it, her eyes widening. She glanced at Dad. “It’s all here.” Her voice rasped and she handed him a passport, then rifled through the other things in the envelope. “I need to pack,” she said suddenly.
But Stryker shook his head. “Nope, you leave now.”
Mom looked startled.
“How do we get to the airport?” Dad asked him, a suspicious look in his eyes.
At the same moment, Mom pulled a set of keys out of the envelope and held them up.
Stryker nodded at the keys. “You drive.” He checked his watch. “Plane leaves soon. You better hurry.”
