Page 14 of Turbulent Fires

He asks where I’ve flown from, where I’m staying, do I have more luggage, what I’m doing in North Carolina, how long I’m staying, and on and on and on. I honestly answer every question as he tries to trip me up by repeating various questions in a different way.

By about the dozenth time I’ve answered that I’m a travel writer visiting a bed and breakfast in Beechwood Springs, and I have zero plans of overthrowing the government or transporting any exotic livestock, I’m seriously considering whether sarcasm counts as a federal offense. I’m losing patience and growing irritated as the minutes pass. How long can they keep me in this room?

“I don’t understand what’s happening here, but this seems absurd,” I finally snap.

The agent glances at me, not unkindly, but with a practiced neutrality that all government employees seem to master their first day on the job. He doesn’t crack a smile or show any emotion in his gaze.

“I’m simply following protocol, ma’am.” I mumble about being a prisoner which he chooses to ignore.

The door opens behind me with a loud click. I turn, expecting to see the police holding handcuffs, ready to haul me off to some secret prison where they’ll attempt to use torture to get me to confess to some crime I haven’t committed.

It’s not a police officer, though. That would be too predictable. It’s him, the man I’m about to stab, the man who’s about to make this a true crime episode... Wolf Young. Everything clicks into place.

He leans against the doorway with a smug smile that definitely needs to come with a warning label. I should’ve known he had something to do with this.

“Captain Wolf Young,” he says to the TSA officer. I don’t say a word, too worried I’m going to levitate from the ground and start spinning in circles if I so much as twitch right now.

“I didn’t see anything suspicious,” the agent says. “She’s all yours.” The man then departs the room as if it’s just another casual Monday.

With barely leashed control, I turn and glare at Wolf. “You did not have me detained!” I say through clenched teeth.

He doesn’t look at all worried, which tells me he doesn’t value his life all that much. “I did,” he cheerily tells me. “I asked to have you held for questions.”

“Why?” I gasp.

He’s utterly relaxed. “I had to get creative since you’re so good at running away from me. I had paperwork to finish and couldn’t chase you down the terminal.”

“So you put a security check on me?”

He shrugs. “Let’s call it a strategic delay.”

“You’re a menace to society,” I say as I stand. I’m still a bit worried about levitation, but I do have to admit the man isn’t intimidated by me. He certainly checks that box on my unrealistic list of expectations.

“You’re not the only person to tell me that,” he says with a shrug. “But, we’re both still here, and it’s clearly fate that keeps bringing us together, so we might as well roll with it.”

My mouth gapes open as I stare at him. “Do you honestly think I’m going on a date with you after this?”

“I have no doubt,” he says, not even a single hair ruffled by my wrath. The man seems unshakeable.

“You’re going to be sadly disappointed,” I tell him as I brush past him and march from the room. My bags are waiting for me with another TSA agent. I want to take my mood out on them, but it isn’ttheirfault. I gather my bags, then rush through the airport... with Wolf easily keeping up with me.

“I have a vehicle waiting. This way,” he says, placing his hand on my back and steering me in a new direction from the shuttle lane.

I should fight him, should punch him in his smug mouth, but somehow, I’m being led by him in a new direction. I’m furious with this man. I shouldn’t accept a ride with him. But for some strange reason my body isn’t listening to my brain.

Before I have time to stop it, my body is sliding into the passenger side of a large SUV. He thanks the man who brought it to the curb, then jumps into the driver’s seat. I’m glaring at him as I cross my arms and watch him enter the address to Beechwood Springs. What am I doing? How is this man controlling me?

He starts driving. “This is kidnapping, you know?”

He chuckles. “You voluntarily got into the vehicle.”

“Under duress.”

“You don’t seem too worried.”

“You should be the one worried; you could easily end up on an episode ofSnappedbefore this night is over with the mood I’m in.”

He laughs hard at this, clearly not worried about his own death at my hands. I’m much stronger than I appear. He might find out how strong I truly am before this night is over.

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