Serial Story: English Breakfast, Part 12
This story is presented weekly in draft format.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 |
English Breakfast, Part 12
Karen shuffled beside Heather, stifling the urge to pull against her captor’s hold as they were led down an echoing passage and out a door into fresh air. Or what passed for fresh after being filtered through the hoods they’d been forced to wear. Jerked to a stop, she heard a car door open and then stumbled onto a long slick seat as rough hands pushed her inside. She felt Heather’s denim-clad leg beside her. All of the men had been wearing camo-pants.
Two doors slightly forward opened and shut, and she assumed that they had two escorts for the trip. It was a grim outlook at this point, she figured. Why move them unless it was to kill them?
The forward motion made her lurch in her seat, the hood flapping loosely around her face. Settling herself more firmly against the back of the seat, she tried to figure out the best chance they’d have of escaping a moving vehicle.
She’d just discarded the third mental plan when there was a loud pop somewhere outside. The car swerved, pulling her to the side and she reached up, yanked the hood off with her bound hands and quickly turned it upside down, aiming for whoever was sitting in the passenger seat.
Shocked when it actually encapsulated a head, she pulled hard on the bottom against a thick neck, her eyes having trouble tracking the action as another pop sounded and the car swerved wildly again. The man in her grasp twisted in his seat, aiming a handgun toward the back in Heather’s general direction. She quickly threw all of her weight into twisting his head the opposite way just as two explosions rocked the car and if not for the ropes at her wrists, she would have lost her grip.
Panicked, she looked to her side, expecting Heather to be bleeding, possibly dead. But her twist-move must have worked. The driver was slumped against the opposite window, unmoving.
Not daring to let go, she pulled hard at the other man’s neck until he went limp.
“Karen? What’s going on?”
Reluctantly releasing the man, Karen reached out and pulled off Heather’s hood.
“In a nutshell, one guy is dead, one is out cold, and we need to get out of here before reinforcements show up. Can you run?”
Heather’s eyes got big as she took in the gruesome scene in front of her. Slowly she nodded.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Not sure if the other woman was too shocked to move, Karen reached across her and grabbed the door handle, then pushed the door open. When Heather didn’t move to get out, Karen gave a gentle shove.
“We have to go right now,” she said, thankful when the journalist finally put a foot out the door. “You want to live, right?”
Snapping out of her shock, Heather nodded and got out quickly, turning to help Karen crawl out as well. As soon as she got out, she saw the SUV with “Kane 1” on the license plates.
“This way!” Heather shook her head, fear lining her face, but Karen grabbed her hands.
“Kane Security. The firm hired to get you back. It’s help. Come on.”
Dragging the journalist behind her, Karen ran for the truck, grateful when the side door opened and Kane reached out to help them in.
“Where’s Patrick?” she asked once the door was closed and they were speeding away.
Kane pointed to the back window. “Right behind us. Are you two okay?”
Karen looked at Heather, who nodded. “I think we are,” she said, taking deep breaths. “Do you still have the pictures Patrick took of Heather’s information?”
“Patrick has it, as far as I know.”
Karen nodded. “Good. Heather has one hell of a story to write, and we need to get it out to the press as soon as possible.”
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 |
English Breakfast, Part 12
Karen shuffled beside Heather, stifling the urge to pull against her captor’s hold as they were led down an echoing passage and out a door into fresh air. Or what passed for fresh after being filtered through the hoods they’d been forced to wear. Jerked to a stop, she heard a car door open and then stumbled onto a long slick seat as rough hands pushed her inside. She felt Heather’s denim-clad leg beside her. All of the men had been wearing camo-pants.
Two doors slightly forward opened and shut, and she assumed that they had two escorts for the trip. It was a grim outlook at this point, she figured. Why move them unless it was to kill them?
The forward motion made her lurch in her seat, the hood flapping loosely around her face. Settling herself more firmly against the back of the seat, she tried to figure out the best chance they’d have of escaping a moving vehicle.
She’d just discarded the third mental plan when there was a loud pop somewhere outside. The car swerved, pulling her to the side and she reached up, yanked the hood off with her bound hands and quickly turned it upside down, aiming for whoever was sitting in the passenger seat.
Shocked when it actually encapsulated a head, she pulled hard on the bottom against a thick neck, her eyes having trouble tracking the action as another pop sounded and the car swerved wildly again. The man in her grasp twisted in his seat, aiming a handgun toward the back in Heather’s general direction. She quickly threw all of her weight into twisting his head the opposite way just as two explosions rocked the car and if not for the ropes at her wrists, she would have lost her grip.
Panicked, she looked to her side, expecting Heather to be bleeding, possibly dead. But her twist-move must have worked. The driver was slumped against the opposite window, unmoving.
Not daring to let go, she pulled hard at the other man’s neck until he went limp.
“Karen? What’s going on?”
Reluctantly releasing the man, Karen reached out and pulled off Heather’s hood.
“In a nutshell, one guy is dead, one is out cold, and we need to get out of here before reinforcements show up. Can you run?”
Heather’s eyes got big as she took in the gruesome scene in front of her. Slowly she nodded.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Not sure if the other woman was too shocked to move, Karen reached across her and grabbed the door handle, then pushed the door open. When Heather didn’t move to get out, Karen gave a gentle shove.
“We have to go right now,” she said, thankful when the journalist finally put a foot out the door. “You want to live, right?”
Snapping out of her shock, Heather nodded and got out quickly, turning to help Karen crawl out as well. As soon as she got out, she saw the SUV with “Kane 1” on the license plates.
“This way!” Heather shook her head, fear lining her face, but Karen grabbed her hands.
“Kane Security. The firm hired to get you back. It’s help. Come on.”
Dragging the journalist behind her, Karen ran for the truck, grateful when the side door opened and Kane reached out to help them in.
“Where’s Patrick?” she asked once the door was closed and they were speeding away.
Kane pointed to the back window. “Right behind us. Are you two okay?”
Karen looked at Heather, who nodded. “I think we are,” she said, taking deep breaths. “Do you still have the pictures Patrick took of Heather’s information?”
“Patrick has it, as far as I know.”
Karen nodded. “Good. Heather has one hell of a story to write, and we need to get it out to the press as soon as possible.”
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
No comments have been added yet.
