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At the same moment I ask, I see something move out of the corner of my eye, behind my kidnapper. I make myself ignore it, instead urging myself to stare at the man with the gun. Something flickers in his eyes, almost like he’s having second thoughts, before it fades and he goes back to looking brutish and menacing.
Suddenly, over the roar of my blood rushing through my ears, I hear a new voice. It’s low and rough, but warm, even inviting. It’s the exact opposite of the way my kidnapper sounds. “Hey, everything alright?” the voice asks.
The man with a gun swings his body to face the man who spoke, but he looks shocked at what he finds. I don’t blame him. Even standing ten or fifteen feet away like he is, the guy interrupting my attempted kidnapping is massive, broad and built like a wall. I can’t help noticing that he’s handsome, with thick hair and dark eyes and the kind of body writers like me dream of when they talk about their male leads. He scowls down at the man, making him look small and frail in comparison. In one of his hands is a large, steaming cup of coffee. His hand makes it look small, but that’s just because he’s so big. In the other hand is the plastic lid. When he sees that he’s now got a gun pointed at him, his brow furrows.
What happens next is a blur.
My rescuer throws his cup at the man with the gun. Instantly, the man screams as suddenly, he’s covered in molten hot brewed coffee. I’ve never been more thankful for how hot the machines keep everything. Before the kidnapper can regain his composure, my rescuer is on him. There’s struggling and scuffling noises, grunts as punches hit flesh, maybe even the crunch of something being broken. In seconds, it’s all over. I barely registered what happened.
My would-be kidnapper is now sprawled out on the linoleum floor of the convenience store in a puddle of coffee, groaning as he registers whatever pain he’s in. And above him looms my rescuer, the gun now in his hands and aimed down at the kidnapper.
Before I can say something, the massive man looks at me with those intense, dark eyes of his. My head swims as our eyes meet. He breaks eye contact to trace his eyes up and down my figure, but it doesn’t feel gross like it did with the guy now on the floor. It feels good, almost protective.
I watch as his handsome face softens. And then he tells me to call 911.
Chapter 2
Finn
I’ve been in a subpar mood all day. Some days are just like that. Nothing’s gone wrong, per se, but it’s not like shit’s going right either. I’m just tired, I tell myself. I’ve been working overtime, picking up new routes to make extra cash, and it’s just tiring me out more than I expected. That’s gotta be it.
Of course, it’s been like this for a while. It might be a new route tonight, but the long hours aren’t unusual for me. I’ve been working as a trucker for over a decade. It’s a lot of miles on the road, but the work has been consistent for me, and when you have bills to pay, consistency trumps everything else. I don’t regret getting into this job for that reason.
These overtime routes though … They’re wearing me out more than I’d like. I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m not even old, but I haven’t been able to work as tirelessly as I could when I was in my twenties. I’m thirty-three now, so I should know better than to push myself like I did back when I first started. But, well … My mom’s new medication isn’t covered by our insurance, so me working overtime is the only option we have.
She’s been doing so much better on this new prescription, too. I’m so proud of her for giving it a try. Her health has long been a struggle—every patient with her constellation of symptoms is different and finding a medication that helps her is incredibly hard. For a while, lots of meds actually made her symptoms worse. We had to make do with a complex treatment plan that involved multiple doctors and therapists. Finally, one of them recommended this new medicine, and watching her finally gain a little more independence for herself has been amazing.
It’s always just been me and my mom. My abusive father walked out on us when I was ten. We did okay for several years. She was doing well then because my dad was no longer making our lives hell. She had the occasional episode, but they were mild compared to what would come later. When I started at college, everything seemed to be going well, but then I got a call that she was having one of her episodes. I dropped out without a second thought to move back home and help take care of her. Trucking came a few years later, when I turned twenty-one, and I haven’t looked back.
I regret none of it. Do I wish I could have kept studying for a degree? Kind of. I went to college because I love reading and learning, but I can read in my spare time. I can still learn whatever I want, even if it’s not going towards a degree. Taking care of my family—my mom—will always be more important than draining resources on an expensive piece of paper.
When I roll into the gas station in the evening, it’s only because I can’t keep driving without some sort of caffeine in my system. I only have a few more hours’ worth of local stops to make, but I can’t get through them without stopping for a moment to myself. After a coffee, and maybe a snack, I’ll be good as new.
The convenience store attached to the gas station is quiet when I walk in. It’s clean and well stocked, but it’s just an odd time of the day. I’m sure the night shift at this place is dead like this most of the time. My eyes flit to the main check-out counter, and what I see there makes my breath catch.
Standing behind the register is a pretty young woman, typing away at something on her phone. She’s staring so intently at the screen of her phone that she didn’t even notice me walk in. Long brown hair pulled up into a bun, a plush bottom lip she’s biting as she types, and a soft, curvy figure obscured by the garish uniform she probably has to wear every time she works. She looks nothing like the kind of people I’m used to seeing in these stores.
To her, I’m probably just another customer. No use getting hung up on how pretty she looks. I make myself look away. I just need to get my coffee and get back on the road.
I sigh to myself. Like a guy like me would ever catch the eye of a girl like her. She’s youthful and beautiful and I’m just a big man driving trucks to make ends meet. I’m sure she’s got plenty of young, handsome suitors clamoring for her attention. I’m just a random stranger.
I make my way to the back corner where a sign tells me the coffee is. After a quick scan, I find the biggest cup they have and fill it with coffee from the urn labeled “light roast.” It’s steaming like crazy, even though I’m sure it’s not the freshest, so I take a lid, but don’t put it on the cup yet. The liquid is so hot I almost can’t hold the cup, so keeping the lid off will help it cool off faster.
I lift the cup to my nose, inhaling the bittersweet scent as I scan the store for something to eat. Am I even hungry? Hard to say. I can’t think of much else aside from drinking this coffee and the girl that’ll be ringing me up whenever I head over to pay.
As I walk back around the corner towards the front counter, a chill runs down my spine.
The beautiful young woman behind the counter is no longer on her phone. She has her hands up as she looks at a man standing in front of her. Fear is making her bright eyes glint strangely, the healthy blush she had before gone, leaving her white as a sheet. The man is hunched forward, dressed in all black. As I get closer, I can hear him barking orders at her. She whimpers something back, but he doesn’t relent.
The situation feels wrong. Something dark and strange stirs within me, growling angrily at the way the pretty stranger is looking at the man in front of her. It urges me forward, telling me to step in, to protect her. To make this man pay for making her feel scared or threatened or whatever it is she’s feeling.
Carefully, I begin to approach. Once I’m close enough to act but still well out of arm’s reach, I break the tense silence between the girl and the man.
“Hey, everything alright?” I ask as I look at the girl’s frightened expression.
As her eyes rise to look at me, the man facing her rounds on me and I finally see what had her looking scared shitless.
