Free Made To Love Her by Z.L. Arkadie

legs are trembling, and I’m unable to control it. Jack is the picture of confidence and competence. It’s as if he’s been in this situation a million times before. He stands by the doorway, waiting for me to take the ramp first. That’s the Jack I know—still chivalrous.
    He smiles firmly at me as I pass him. I pause, waiting for another assurance that everything is going to be fine, but at this point, he probably has no more guarantees to offer. I let my shaky legs walk me down the ramp.
    A sleek gray luxury coupe with tinted windows is waiting for us near the bottom of the ramp. As agreed, I take the wheel, and Jack gets in the passenger seat. He puts the buds, which are connected to a compact computer tablet, in his ears.
    “Follow the road out,” he says.
    I squint at the clock on the dashboard. It’s seven minutes until noon but feels so much later than that. However, that’s a good thing because we still have the whole day ahead of us. I start the car and take the road to the exit, which is easy to find. I’ve flown out of and into Teterboro enough on one of Jack’s, Charlie’s, or Vince’s private planes.
    “Get on the I-95 North,” he says.
    “Okay.” I glance at Jack, who’s staring straight ahead. That feeling from earlier washes over me. My cousin Jack has left the house. Who is the guy I’m sitting next to? Something tells me I’m about to find out.

    I ’ve already taken I-95 to Highway 1, and now we’re in Trenton, New Jersey, heading toward Pennsylvania. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I have a great urge to ask Jack where in the world we are going.
    I cross the Delaware River. However, Jack hasn’t changed that intense look on his face since I started driving, and frankly, I’m a little intimidated by it. Clearly, he’s the one in charge; I’m just along for the ride.
    “No one can know that I’m using what’s available to me for this personal mission of ours,” he says out of the blue.
    I quickly turn to face him. “I won’t say anything.” He looks me in the eyes, and before I know it, the question drops out of my mouth. “Do you think he’s alive?”
    “Make the next right,” he says.
    Anticipation hangs in the air as I wait for an answer. I make the next right and glance expectantly at Jack.
    “I think so,” Jack finally says.
    “Why do you think so?”
    “Because I feel it in my gut.”
    I narrow my eyes to slits. I’m not sure if I want to cry, sigh with relief, or yell at him for placating me.
    “I don’t believe you,” I say calmly. Tears rush to my eyes. I win the battle to hold them back.
    Jack sighs sympathetically. “In times like this, don’t think about the future. Focus on the here and now, because that’s where we’re the strongest.”
    I take a minute to grasp what he’s saying. He’s right. The present is all we can control at the moment.
    “Make the next left,” he says.
    In about three hundred feet, I turn into a residential neighborhood.
    “From this point on, don’t look at the addresses,” he says.
    I frown. I wonder why, but I don’t ask. Instead, I let Jack guide me down a maze of streets until he tells me to park in front of a house.
    I turn to my right and observe a white house that needs a paint job and new roof. “Is that where he lives?”
    He pulls a messenger bag from under the seat. “Where who lives?”
    “Douglas Randall?”
    He glances at the house. “No. Stay put. Lock the doors and don’t open them for anyone but me.”
    He doesn’t wait for me to respond to his directives before hopping out of the car and heading down the street behind me. I study him through the rearview mirror. The bag is hanging on his shoulder as he strolls casually, as though he’s a resident who walks this street every day. However, I lose sight of him when he turns down the next block.
    I press the lock button, and the doors click. I sit as still as I can be. At this point, all I can do is wait. I close my eyes, take three deep