1 Ford

Ford

I always knew a day like this would come for me.

Okay, maybe not exactly like this. I never imagined I’d be on the run from the very agency I worked for. Never thought my image would be turned into one of the criminals I worked my whole life to take down.

My eyes angrily cut to the go bag sitting in the passenger seat of the stolen car I was currently pushing to its max as I raced down a back road in the middle of nowhere Virginia.

Where was I headed?

Tennessee? North Carolina?

I had no clue.

Yeah, I had nothing.

Well, nothing other than the bag with fake IDs, a bunch of cash, and a few days’ worth of clothes. I was currently in the backup suit I kept in my car since I’d run out of my house in pajamas.

I was fucked in every sense of the word. On top of that, I had no damn clue how I’d gotten here.

Not here as in this back road that is supposed to take me… somewhere. At this point, I was just running. Staying on the move so I wouldn’t get caught. All the while, trying to work out a plan.

A plan…

For… how to stay alive and not get caught. I also needed to figure out how the hell this all happened.

How did I become the target and the most wanted man in America overnight?

I hadn’t done anything. Maybe sometimes I veered into the morally gray, you know, turning my head to some actions when it came to stopping certain people, like sex traffickers and people who forced children to do things they never should do.

And now here I was, my image splashed all over news stations saying I was one of them. Seeing myself on one of those gas pump TVs was a mind fuck. Which was the moment I’d decided I had no other choice but to ditch my car and find a new one. I was still in shock over the whole thing.

The thought of doing that to someone soured my stomach. I didn’t want to hurt people. I wanted to protect them.

I turned my eyes back to the road just in time to see a deer dart out of the woods and freeze mere feet from the narrow two-lane road, its black eyes catching the glow of the yellowed headlight.

“Don’t you—” My words cut off as it gave a twitch of its ears and then dashed right in my path. “Fuck.”

My foot left the gas pedal, slamming down on the break a split second later. The tires screeched and the car shifted in a way that made my stomach flip and churn. This car was quite old and very well… unloved, to say the least. The whole rusted metal can on wheels groaned and shuddered, leaving me worried that part of it— the part I was sitting in— was going to break away from the axles and plow into the frozen-in-place deer, or worse, go flying right over the side of the mountain. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want anything to happen to the damn deer, but if it was between me and it, I’d opt for my safety first.

I swore under my breath as the car finally came to a shuddering halt, the engine dying the moment all movement ceased. The air was thick with smoke from burning rubber. The deer flicked its ear before turning around and walking back the way it came with a pace that said this had all been planned just to fuck with the already stressed-out human.

I glared at the damn animal. Even still, I was glad it was okay.

However, the car wasn’t okay. Which I soon found out as I turned the key in the ignition only to receive dead air. Nothing. Not even a click of life left from this thing.

I knew I should have kept looking for something a little less junkyard find, but when you’re a wanted man on the run from the FBI and a BOLO out to the whole country for your ass, you didn’t take time to find a car that was pretty. What you did was keep moving. So when I spotted the car so faded red it looked pink with its sagging interior roof fabric in the back corner lot of a rundown mechanic’s shop, I figured no one would look twice at someone driving it. As it happened, the keys were actually sitting in the cup holder and it started on the third try, which was a… well, I wouldn’t call it a pleasant surprise, because nothing about this musty-smelling, barely-held-together car was pleasant.

With the car dead, I was really fucked.

I maintained my innocence. This was all a setup. I couldn’t prove that if they had me locked up. And I couldn’t do that if I was stranded in the middled of nowhere.

I was on my own, and with limited moves I could make, I was feeling just about as screwed as if I’d turned myself in. At least I had my training. I was sure the FBI hadn’t meant for me to use the skills they taught me to run from them.

I didn’t want to bring anyone else into this mess, but as I sat there in a dead car in the middle of a backwoods mountain road with no direction and barely a clue where I was, I realized that I was out of options.

With a sigh, I put the car in Neutral. Angrily, I snatched up the duffel from the passenger seat as I pulled the handle for the door. The hinges creaked and protested as I pushed the door open. The sound echoed loudly around me, piercing my ears in a way that made me cringe. I swung the duffel over my shoulder as I exited the car. I stood there letting myself feel helpless for all of two seconds as the wind whipped around me. The air was thick with the smell of burned rubber and the crisp threat of snow.

A winter storm was the last thing I needed.

I pulled the lapels of my charcoal gray pea coat tighter as I walked to the back of the car.

The metal of the trunk was cold against my palms as I braced my hands against it. With a small grunt, I began to push, my polished Oxford shoes having trouble finding traction on the asphalt. If only I hadn’t forgotten to put my running shoes in my go bag. Not that I ever imagined there would be a situation where I’d be attempting to use all my strength to push a car off the side of a mountain. Who really planned for something like that?

I snorted at the thought. In my line of work, the planning of such things was more of a common thing. Especially if someone was covering up a crime. Though, when it came to cars, lighting them on fire was usually the number one go-to for covering up a crime.

I felt bad enough sending this thing over a cliff and to its hopefully unnoticed grave, I wasn’t about to strike a match and possibly set the whole mountainside on fire.

As soon as I felt the tires gaining momentum, I gave it one last full-strength push. Standing on the side of the road, I watched as the piece of junk kept on its way until it was out of sight.

Now I just had to find somewhere to hunker down until I made my next move. Not that I had a clue what that next move was.

Cold, defeated, and a little scared, I realized that I was really only left with one option. One person I trusted.

As much as I didn’t want to drag him into this, I knew he’d be able to help me. He wouldn’t only be able to, but he’d want to. His team would likely be able to dig up the evidence I needed to save my ass and find the real person behind this.

I felt a little hesitant as I reached for the burner I had tucked in the pocket of my go bag.

Reed Willis and I weren’t exactly friends. We worked together and occasionally had friendly conversations that didn’t involve work talk. I always felt that he was on my side. Not the FBI or the off-the-books division I ran, but my side.

Even as I thought that, I had to admit that he’d seemed distant lately. And by lately, I meant the past year. While he still called to check on me and answered when I did the same to him, there was this sense of him taking a few steps back. More like holding himself at a distance when it came to the work side of things. Actually, he hadn’t asked for my help at all in the last few months. I hadn’t gotten a call for a cleanup or cover-up from him in a while. The relationship that we’d had for years now was not the same.

Funny, it wasn’t until now— when I was desperate and stranded— that I realized how Reed had all but separated himself from me and my division.

So maybe I didn’t have him to call on.

I let my hand slip out of the pocket, leaving the phone tucked safely right where it was.

Perhaps it was best if I found a place to hide before I made a decision on whether I should call Reed or not.

A heavy sigh deflated my lungs. I dipped my chin to my chest and faced the wind head-on as I made my way to the other side of the road. The flicker of oncoming headlights had me scurrying into the thick tree line faster than my shoes could handle. I slipped but regained my composure quick enough to curtain myself in the shadows.

I wasn’t made for being on the run. I could do it. I knew how to, and had the skills to get by. But in reality, even with years of constantly dealing with stress while on the job, I wasn’t prepared for this level of my-life-is-in-danger stress.

“No time for that now, Ford,” I muttered under my breath, thinking of my mother and how she used to say it when things were hard and we had to press on, “dust off your knees and get moving.”