Free Dead Running by Cami Checketts Page B

sarcasm, “Thanks for placing me in such a pleasant situation, Dad.”
    Muscle Man laughed harder. The pistol left my cheek. I took long breaths in and out so I didn't hyperventilate. The blindfold was ripped off me. The ropes untied. Muscle Man wrapped an arm around my waist and escorted me out of the vehicle. Greasy Beanpole watched me with a leering grin.
    They both followed me onto the dark road. Fields of hay and corn stretched east and west. I wiped at my eyes, trying to hide the proof of how scared I was.
    “You did great, Cassidy,” Muscle Man said. “Hope your father is half as cooperative as you. But then if he’s not . . .” His eyes roved my frame. “I’ll get to fulfill some fun threats.”
    My stomach rolled.
    Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole headed for the van. Greasy Beanpole jogged around to the driver’s seat. Muscle Man climbed into the passenger seat. He left the door open and stared down at me. I knew I should run. I couldn’t take a step.
    “Why?” I whispered up at him.
    “Why what?”
    “Why are you doing this? My mom and dad died two years ago.”
    Muscle Man grinned. “Keep believing that, Cassidy.” He tilted his bald mug to the side. “Also believe,” he lifted the dull black pistol and stroked its shaft, “that I'll be back,” he winked, “if you talk to the police, the FBI, your grandmother, or anyone else. Are we understood?”
    “Y-yes,” I managed to sputter.
    “Perfect.” Muscle Man saluted me and slammed his door.
    The van spun away, leaving me with more questions than I ever wanted to deal with. I’d seen the pictures of my mom and dad’s bodies. Even though I still believed Panetti had ordered their executions, Muscle Man had just claimed that he was the one who killed them. Being face to face with their murderer ripped off the thin scab that had begun to cover the gaping wound my parents had left. A lone tear escaped. I missed them.
    Shaking off the sadness and anger, I tried to figure out what had just happened. Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole were obviously confused, maybe it wasn’t even my parents they claimed to have killed. But why didn’t they kidnap or rape me? Why did they video me and try to make me believe my dad was alive? Something was seriously messed up here.
    I watched the taillights disappear and still couldn’t react. Finally, I forced myself to do the only thing I could. I swallowed my insides back into place and started jogging east.
    When I saw another runner coming my direction I didn’t know if I should hide behind the towering cornfield to the south or run into his arms. He got closer and I opted for the latter.
    “Jesse!”
    He glanced my way and crossed the distance between us with a smile on his face. “Cassidy. I was hoping I’d run into you out on the road again.” Stopping in front of me, he gestured to the surrounding fields. “You’re far from home.”
    “Not by choice,” I muttered.
    Jesse cocked his head to the side, studying my disheveled face and hair. “Are you all right?”
    I shivered, wrapping my arms around my stomach. The pain from that punch wasn’t going away anytime soon. “Some men scared me.”
    His olive skin darkened. His eyes darted down the road and into the cornstalks as if my attackers were hiding in there. “Where are they?”
    I shook my head. “They left.”
    Jesse took a step closer. His arms opened. I didn’t know if it was an invitation. I made it one. Falling against his hard chest, I resisted the urge to bawl.
    “They hurt you,” he said, his voice tight with anger.
    “No, I’m okay,” I lied.
    “Do you want to tell me about it?” he whispered against my hair.
    “No,” I moaned. How could I explain that I’d put us both at risk? As tough as Jesse seemed, he couldn’t protect me from Muscle Man.
    Jesse stroked my hair. Covered with his warm body and arms, I almost forgot my fears. After several wonderful moments, he pulled away and directed me toward the rising sun. “Let’s