Page 9 of Colombian Chemistry

The sound of the almost laugh eased me a little. “I’m not. My father is, and that’s his favorite song. When I was growing up and got scared, he used to hum it to me. It’s an old habit to hum it when I get nervous.”

“And you have no idea where your father is now?” He guided the Jeep around another tight turn.

My heart squeezed in my chest with the worry over my missing father. “No. I have no idea. He begged me to come down for my spring break and see his new place, and even though I hate, hate, hate flying...”

“The fear of heights?” he interjected.

“Yes. And the loss of control. I can’t stand it. Even though I know the statistics for flying are incredibly safe, I still hate doing it.”

“I hear you on the control thing. I always have to be in control. Sorry... you were saying?”

“I arrived just a few days ago, and we spent the first night together. The next afternoon, he told me he had to run off to a meeting, and he never came back. I tried his cell phone a hundred times, but it just goes to voicemail. The night you saw me on the beach, I’d gone for a walk to the beach bar he’d mentioned he was meeting them at and asked if they’d seen him. They hadn’t. Then yesterday, I was planning on going to the police if he wasn’t back by noon. But before I could, I heard someone break-in, so I ran and hid behind the house next door. When I saw the men leave, I ran back in to grab my phone, but his place was ransacked, and my stuff was gone. And now he has no way to reach me, and I still have no idea where he is.”

“And this isn’t like him?”

I blew out a sharp puff of air. “No. My father is extremely predictable. Boring, really. The fact he even bought himself a house in Columbia is rather peculiar. I mean, I guess he was really enjoying working here since he came here six months ago, but buying a house? None of it makes sense.”

“Why is that peculiar? I thought rich people bought houses all over the world just for shits and giggles.”

“Uh, I guess. But my father isn’t really one to spend money like that. He travels around for work, but usually the companies that hire him rent houses or apartments for him during his contract. He’s never up and bought a vacation house before. We are fairly frugal.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “I guess that explains the fact you offered me five hundred for this lift.”

More heat flushed my cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t know how much someone paid for something like this.”

“Fifty grand works just fine for me.” He smiled. “And I’m assuming once we get to Bogotá and get your identity squared away that you’ll be able to get the dough, even without your father?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Should be able to get the money wired down quick enough,” I lied. There was zero chance I could get fifty grand in the span of a few days. But I couldn’t let up on my ruse lest he decide to drop me on the side of this mountain.

“I’ll plan on staying in town a few days until you get that done. I’ve got some things to take care of anyway.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully they can help me figure out where my father is,” I said, hoping to change the topic of conversation from the money I didn’t have.

“Maybe he’s back at the house already.”

I let out a breath. “I hope so. I keep thinking in my head that maybe he got hung up, and now he’s back there panicking and looking for me. Like it’s just some big misunderstanding.”

“Could be.”

I frowned. “But that doesn’t explain the cartel that raided his house and why they’re hunting me. I heard them when they were searching. They were looking for me. And the moment they saw me outside of the house, they came after me.”

“My money is still on a ransom. They know your dad is loaded, and once they got wind his daughter was in town, it wouldn’t take long for the Jungle Kings to jump on that opportunity.”

“Yeah,” I said, though I lacked the certainty in John’s words. “I just hope he’s okay. I have to find him.”

“You will. He’ll turn up.”

I glanced over and smiled at John. It was nice to hear some encouraging words from him. I needed that right now. The terror from running for my life had been all-consuming, but buried underneath it was a terror that something horrible had happened to my father. I just needed to get to the US Embassy and get some help. They had to help me find him.

“Fuck,” John spat as he took his foot off the gas.

“What?” His abrupt word caused my heart to jump in my chest. “Are we falling? Oh God, we’re falling!”

“We’re not falling. It’s a checkpoint just up there.”

I strained to follow his gaze and then saw the red Jeep up ahead with armed men sitting on top of it. “Why is there a checkpoint? What’s happening?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grumbled as he surveyed our surroundings while keeping the Jeep crawling toward the men up ahead.