Read Online Hybrid Zone Recognition by C.E. Glines - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C.E. Glines
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times I have made this trip alone because you made other plans involving Goon like beings. I think you are quite capable of getting your own Goon!”
As if on cue, a door to the SUV opened and out stepped Goon Number Two. We watched in silence as he walked to the back of the SUV. At least the momentary interruption served to quell our anger, which I suspected was born out of the stress we were currently enduring.
“He’s back,” Miranda whispered, pointing at the window.
I turned back to the window. Goon Number One was still at eye level with me and had one hand gripping the door handle and the other resting on top of the truck. How tall was this guy? Of course, I was only five foot three so almost everyone was tall to me.
“I’m going to have to insist that you get out of the vehicle, Ma’am,” he said a little more forcibly.
“Sticking to the script, I see,” I told him.
Facing Miranda once again, I started to speak when she beat me to it.
“No goodbyes, MG,” she spit out rapidly and held up her closed fist.
I raised my eyebrow at her. “We do fist bumps now?”
“It’s a new thing. I thought it’d make us look more tough in front of tall, dark and PUSHY!” she yelled as he opened the door.
He ignored her outrage and responded with the requisite phrase. “Out of the vehicle now, please.”
He was polite, if not original, for a kidnapper.
“I’ll see you later,” I said quietly to Miranda while returning her fist bump. Most definitely I would. Probably.
I climbed down from the truck, jumping the last foot or so to the ground. My truck was a jacked up 4x4 with oversized tires. Miranda has repeatedly told me that it was too big for me and that I needed to downsize. But I worked hard for this truck. I loved my truck.
He obviously didn’t know this. He had already started walking away while ordering, “This way, Ma’am.”
I crossed my arms and stared at his retreating form. Did he think I was an idiot? There was clearly only one way to the SUV. Obviously, it was that way.
When he realized I wasn’t following, he pivoted and raised an eyebrow at me. Apparently, I didn’t have the market cornered on eyebrow raises. “What about my truck?” I could tell by his hesitation that he was not expecting that question.
“The truck?” he asked in confusion.
“Yeah, the truck,” I repeated mockingly. “What is going to happen to my truck?”
“My partner,” he said, motioning towards Goon Number Two, “will see to the return of your truck and associate.”
“How convenient,” I said dryly.
“We plan it that way,” he said and resumed his march to the SUV.
Goon Number Two and I started walking to our respective destinations, trading places as we went. I noticed he had latte colored skin as he crossed through the headlight beams. I wondered if that meant he had the light brown eyes that were so often paired with that color skin. But even if he did, being pretty did not earn him a pass to drive my truck.
My glare followed him as I paused and watched him climb behind the wheel. Shifting my gaze sideways to Miranda, I gasped in disbelief. She was grinning from ear to ear.
That girl was a hopeless romantic. She’d probably already cooked up any number of romantic scenarios to enact. Goon Number Two didn’t know what he was in for. They’d probably be engaged before they hit Houston.
I looked back at the SUV and the Goon waiting by the open door. What else could I do? By my calculations, running in Louisiana at night would be just as dangerous as getting in the SUV. I figured they wanted me alive, didn’t know about unharmed.
He must have sensed my hesitation. Stepping away from the door, he looked prepared to take off.
“I’m not running,” I said. I could at least spare myself the humiliation of being chased down.
Sighing more loudly than I intended, I let my shoulders slump forward and walked over to the SUV. He held the door open for me, but I shunned his reach for my
As if on cue, a door to the SUV opened and out stepped Goon Number Two. We watched in silence as he walked to the back of the SUV. At least the momentary interruption served to quell our anger, which I suspected was born out of the stress we were currently enduring.
“He’s back,” Miranda whispered, pointing at the window.
I turned back to the window. Goon Number One was still at eye level with me and had one hand gripping the door handle and the other resting on top of the truck. How tall was this guy? Of course, I was only five foot three so almost everyone was tall to me.
“I’m going to have to insist that you get out of the vehicle, Ma’am,” he said a little more forcibly.
“Sticking to the script, I see,” I told him.
Facing Miranda once again, I started to speak when she beat me to it.
“No goodbyes, MG,” she spit out rapidly and held up her closed fist.
I raised my eyebrow at her. “We do fist bumps now?”
“It’s a new thing. I thought it’d make us look more tough in front of tall, dark and PUSHY!” she yelled as he opened the door.
He ignored her outrage and responded with the requisite phrase. “Out of the vehicle now, please.”
He was polite, if not original, for a kidnapper.
“I’ll see you later,” I said quietly to Miranda while returning her fist bump. Most definitely I would. Probably.
I climbed down from the truck, jumping the last foot or so to the ground. My truck was a jacked up 4x4 with oversized tires. Miranda has repeatedly told me that it was too big for me and that I needed to downsize. But I worked hard for this truck. I loved my truck.
He obviously didn’t know this. He had already started walking away while ordering, “This way, Ma’am.”
I crossed my arms and stared at his retreating form. Did he think I was an idiot? There was clearly only one way to the SUV. Obviously, it was that way.
When he realized I wasn’t following, he pivoted and raised an eyebrow at me. Apparently, I didn’t have the market cornered on eyebrow raises. “What about my truck?” I could tell by his hesitation that he was not expecting that question.
“The truck?” he asked in confusion.
“Yeah, the truck,” I repeated mockingly. “What is going to happen to my truck?”
“My partner,” he said, motioning towards Goon Number Two, “will see to the return of your truck and associate.”
“How convenient,” I said dryly.
“We plan it that way,” he said and resumed his march to the SUV.
Goon Number Two and I started walking to our respective destinations, trading places as we went. I noticed he had latte colored skin as he crossed through the headlight beams. I wondered if that meant he had the light brown eyes that were so often paired with that color skin. But even if he did, being pretty did not earn him a pass to drive my truck.
My glare followed him as I paused and watched him climb behind the wheel. Shifting my gaze sideways to Miranda, I gasped in disbelief. She was grinning from ear to ear.
That girl was a hopeless romantic. She’d probably already cooked up any number of romantic scenarios to enact. Goon Number Two didn’t know what he was in for. They’d probably be engaged before they hit Houston.
I looked back at the SUV and the Goon waiting by the open door. What else could I do? By my calculations, running in Louisiana at night would be just as dangerous as getting in the SUV. I figured they wanted me alive, didn’t know about unharmed.
He must have sensed my hesitation. Stepping away from the door, he looked prepared to take off.
“I’m not running,” I said. I could at least spare myself the humiliation of being chased down.
Sighing more loudly than I intended, I let my shoulders slump forward and walked over to the SUV. He held the door open for me, but I shunned his reach for my
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