Eye of the Sh*t Storm by Jackson Ford (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

tell someone, but it can’t be Nic. Not right now, not when Leo is right there.

Annie has come to a stop, her back to me. She’s staring down at a piece of trash – a piece of furniture or something, I don’t know. I skid to a halt next to her. “Annie – we’ve got a big fucking problem.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Leo’s dad, he… I think he might be—”

“That’s Reggie’s chair,” Annie says. Her voice is barely a whisper.

“I – what?”

Annie points to the piece of furniture. Except, it’s not a piece of furniture. It’s a motorised wheelchair, turned on its side.

My brain short-circuits, Leo’s dad temporarily forgotten. “What? No. It’s just a chair. Why would it be Reggie’s?”

“It’s hers.” That same dead tone. “I recognise it. It even has her little bag.” She points to the back of the chair, where a small, multicoloured cloth bag hangs from a strap.

“What’s going on?” Nic says. He and Leo have come up behind us.

I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know how our little straight shot down the river went so bad so quickly. But I’m putting a stop to it, right now, because this? This is some bullshit.

“The chair can’t be Reggie’s.” I say firmly. “There’s no way. How would she even have gotten down here?”

“Woah, wait, what?” Nic says. “What does Reggie have to do with this?”

“Who’s Reggie?” says Leo.

“Annie, think. I know it looks like her chair, but…”

Annie isn’t listening. She bends down, plucks at something embedded in the chair’s mechanism. Something I hadn’t noticed before – a slip of paper. She unfolds it, her hands hardly shaking it all.

The writing on the paper is in block capitals. As heavy and direct as a shotgun blast.

HOLLYDALE PARK. WEST OF THE BASKETBALL COURTS.

MIDNIGHT.

BRING THE BOY.

FORTY-THREETeagan

I hate the phrase I can’t even.

Every time somebody says it, I want to yell at them: Can’t even what? Finish the sentence, you lazy fuckwad! Usually I couldn’t care less about other peoples’ little sayings and vocal tics. But for whatever reason, that one is my kryptonite. If you say it around me, I may express a desire to punch you in the dick.

Well, I get it now. Standing over a wheelchair that I’m really starting to believe belongs to Reggie, in the middle of a storm drain, while we’re trying to track down a man who I just found out was accidentally killed by his own son…

I can’t even. I have lost the ability to even.

“Let me get this straight.” Nic has his hands on his hips. “The Zigzag Man took your boss?”

“Who else could it be?” Annie’s still talking like she’s been tranquilised.

“The Legends? Or—?”

“They wouldn’t know about Reggie,” I say.

“They could have found out!”

“Why is this so hard for you?” Annie says. “The dude tried to hit us twice. When that didn’t work, he found another way.”

“It’s him,” Leo says. He scuffs the concrete with his shoe, not looking at us.

I’ll have to tell him about his dad, sooner or later – and do I feel guilty about how relieved I am that it’s not the most pressing issue right now? You bet your sweet ass I do.

“I mean…” Nic falters. “OK, let’s say that’s right. Somehow, he got your girl Reggie, and somehow got her chair down here. How’d he know we’d even see it?”

“Good point,” I murmur. Not that it’s one I have an answer for.

“And why not just hold her hostage here?” Nic goes on. “Why make us go all the way back to… what was it, Hollydale Park?”

Annie makes a helpless, disgusted sound. “He wants to do it somewhere quiet, not where anybody can walk by.”

“But the river is quiet,” Nic says. “I mean we’ve seen a few other people, but mostly it’s just been us, right?”

“He wouldn’t know that. And even if he does, why take the chance? And he must have figured out we’d come this way.”

I grind the heel of my hand into my forehead. The Zigzag Man’s been trying to get ahead of us this entire time, striking at the worst possible moments. Looks like he finally did it.

Who the fuck is he? What do these people want?

Annie looks at her watch. “Just past eleven now. Hollydale Park’s back past the camp, east of the river. We can make it if we hustle.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” I say. “Are you seriously suggesting we go back the way we came?”

“Are you seriously suggesting we don’t?” Annie stares at me in disbelief.

“I just think—”

“He’s got Reggie. If you don’t think he’ll kill her, you’re an idiot.”

“We should just think about it, is all,” I say, feeling more lame by the second.

Annie’s right, of course. We have to go back, because there is no way I’m letting Reggie get hurt. But if we do…

It means handing over Leo.

Can we do that to him? Betray a four-year-old boy, for one of our own? Hand him back to the Zigzag Man, to the one person in the world that scares him the most?

How would that be any better than letting him fall into Tanner’s clutches?

I know what Reggie would say. I can even hear her words, that honeyed Southern accent. Hell no, darling. Don’t you worry about me. You keep going. Get that boy somewhere safe.

And I have no idea how to tell Annie that. Not a clue.

“If we hand Leo over,” Nic says, eyes never leaving Annie, “then a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“Says you.”

“Says him.” He points to Leo, who actually flinches.

“I’m not trying to hear that. Don’t even talk to me about that.”

“Annie.” You can hear the patience wearing down in Nic’s voice – the razor thin edge of it. “You might be willing to risk thousands of people, but I don’t know if I am.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry, Reggie, we bailed because we maybe thought a kid with abilities was—”

“There’s no maybe. We know exactly what’ll happen if we don’t keep him safe.”

“We don’t know shit!”

He gets in