Abducted by Christopher John Chater

Author:Christopher John Chater [Chater, Christopher John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Chater Publishing
Published: 2013-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

*****

After dinner, Mandy said she wanted to talk.

She dimmed the lights, put slow jams on the stereo, and poured us both a glass of wine. I prepared myself for what I assumed was going to be a serious conversation.

“Last night I brought up the subject of marriage and you didn’t exactly respond the way I had hoped. In fact, you implied I’m not who I say I am—which is crazy—but we’ve both been under a lot of stress lately, so I forgive you,” she said.

“Gee, thanks.” I took a generous drink of wine.

“I’d still like to know what you think about what I said.”

“I’m not sure, Mandy. There’s a lot going on right now and I don’t think making big plans is such a good idea.”

Her patient smile was infuriating me. The Mandy I knew would’ve been having a meltdown by now.

“Where do you see us going as a couple?” she asked.

I set down my glass of wine. “Since when do you care about the future?”

“I care now,” she said.

I stood up, trying to shake off the frustration. The irony was that I’d dreamed of us having this conversation a hundred times, yet now all it was doing was pissing me off.

“What’s the problem? I’m trying to give you what you want. Why are you fighting me?” she asked.

“Because this isn’t the way Mandy acts! This isn’t the relationship I’ve been in for the last two years!”

“Then maybe it’s time we changed it.” She got up from the couch and came over to me. “I love you.”

Those three words had been used sparingly in our relationship, and never when she was pissed at me.

Filled with rage, I demanded, “Where’s Mandy?”

I was going against what Agent Killian had instructed, but I couldn’t keep up the bullshit any longer.

Her shocked expression suddenly gave way to tears.

“Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want from me? I don’t care if your people make me disappear. Just tell me where she is! Where is my Amanda?”

Crying, she said, “I’m right here!”

“You’re working with that Secret Service agent, aren’t you?” I asked.

She shook her head, but I detected some guilt in her expression. I’d hit a nerve, hopefully a truthful one.

“I don’t know who you people are or what you want, but I know you’re not from around here. His car flew over the Atlantic Ocean, over Europe … then it was gone!”

“Flying cars now? Really?” she asked. “I’m going to call someone for you, Lance. You need to talk to some—”

“You’re not calling anyone. You’re going to help me steal that flying car!”

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