Well guys, I'm on flood watch again. Many of you may remember that my house was completely flooded two years ago. Current predictions have the flood peaking about four metres less than back then and should therefore only reach the back fence this time around, but we're moving some stuff from the first floor to the second just in case. We should be fine, so here's a chapter to keep all our minds off it.

Chapter 14

I slowed gradually as I rounded the corner and the navy blue SUV came into view. My breath was coming fast and hard, sweat dripping off my brow and I was really wishing I had access to some kind of deodorant, knowing that this kind of activity would leave me with a slightly offensive odour in the best of times. I couldn't let my mind get too occupied with things like bad smells though. I had bigger fish to mentally fry. First and foremost: I now had a dilemma.

I couldn't just wait around by the car in the hope that Steve arrived first, that was laying down on the sidewalk and asking to be dragged away. If enough time passed Mr. Big-Black-And-Hurt-His-Back could recover and make his way back here. At the same time though, I couldn't simply hop up behind the wheel and drive away. For one, I'd already been caught driving without a licence once this week and didn't want to risk it again. And even if I could drive legally, I'd be leaving Steve stranded. Not to mention the fact that I would be committing grand theft auto.

Aware that I was anything but safe, I scanned the people passing by, the cars zooming past on the road, keeping my eyes peeled for Steve, or any one of our stalker/pursuer men. I had to make a decision about the SUV and I'd prefer to make it before there was an immediate threat from, well, anyone who might not have the best of intentions for me. And let's face it, a fifteen year old girl alone on the street? It doesn't matter how she smells, unsavoury characters would have a field day. It didn't even need to be the ones I'd already encountered today. Any number of paedophiles could be watching me at this very moment, making plans to lure me into their white van with candy.

Times like these I really feel the absence of my cell phone. I'm not sure it would do me any good in this situation, but the fact that I didn't have it at all meant that I had no way of contacting Steve if we got more permanently separated. What I wouldn't give to be able to text Steve with my decision for my next action. It would have made everything so much easier.

Scanning the street once more, I wiped the sweat from my brow, and closed the gap between where I stood up against the buildings and the SUV at the curb, confidently reaching for the latch on the back door despite the apprehension forming a solid knot in my stomach. When the door opened without protest a whoosh of breath escaped me and I quickly climbed in the back seat, closing the door behind me. Now that I was inside the car I had another decision to make: where to wait.

Something told me that just sitting in one of the seats was a stupid idea. There was hiding in plain sight and there was a sitting duck, and I was pretty sure my current position was leaning more toward ducky territory. Realising my time was probably limited I quickly climbed over the back seat into trunk area. I found myself surrounded by three military issue duffle bags, making me assume that whoever was after us today was not based locally and either had not yet checked into a motel or hotel or were not planning on sticking around long enough to do so. I wasn't sparing too much thought for that at the moment though, just thankful for the added cover as I arranged the bags around me, settling in to peer out the window and keep watch.

I didn't have to wait long before someone came back around the corner. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't Steve. Heading swiftly toward the car I was currently hiding in was the fair skinned man in black. He was limping slightly, and looked thoroughly out of breath, but otherwise, still large and dangerous with a loaded gun belt and shiny combat boots. I ducked down into my duffle bag nest and prayed to the God I had a tenuous relationship with that he wouldn't come and look in the trunk.

A moment later a door at the front of the vehicle opened and closed, followed by the turning over of the engine. Just great. Pretty sure if Dad could see me now I'd be getting a lecture about appropriate covers and hiding places. This was probably one of the stupidest ideas I'd had since Mom and Dad disappeared. The car was only moving for a short time before it pulled to the side of the road once more, idling as doors opened and closed and snippets of conversations drifted to my ears. I heard Steve's agitated voice a moment before the back door was reefed open and he was pushed inside.

"Child protective services knows we're missing," he was saying forcefully. "They'll be looking for me."

"Relax, Esteban," one of the men said. "I already told you, we're on your side."

More doors and clicking sounds reached my ears as Steve spoke again. "And I already told you, my name's not Esteban. You've got the wrong guy."

The car started moving again and I gripped a conveniently located bar to keep from rolling around.

"Your parents are Michelle Irene and Carlos Ricardo Garcia?" the same man asked. "Your sister is Regina Guadalupe Garcia?"

"What do you want from us?" Steve demanded. There was a clicking sound followed by some thuds and Steve practically yelled, "Let me out of here! Unlock this door!"

"Esteban, please-," the other guy started, but Steve cut him off, anger clear in his voice.

"That's not my name!"

Irrationally that Ting Tings song ran through my head and I had to clamp my lips closed to keep from singing out.

"Stephen. Carlos. Garcia," Steve bit out. "Steeee-veeeeennnnnnnn. Not Esteban. God, that sounds so soap opera pool boy."

*o*

Bobby mentally slapped his forehead, steering the car through the light post-church traffic keeping an eye on the footpaths for any sign of Tank or Regina. How could they have been so stupid. They'd been so excited about discovering Esteban still lived that they'd neglected to remind themselves that they'd had to change his name to slip under the radar. Carlos Esteban Manoso, the bright little RangeBaby they'd all claimed as their own seventeen years ago was now a stubborn eighteen year old apparently hell bent on ditching his Uncle rescuers who couldn't seem to get his current name right. Thank God the SUV came equipped with a child lock feature.

"Right," Hal said from the back seat. "Stephen. If you could calm down a moment, we'll explain why we're here."

Bobby nodded his head, absently acknowledging the need to keep the teen calm so that we could get him to cooperate in helping to find his sister and then figuring out the situation with his parents. It was important to keep the kids safe and within their watch so that they could work more easily at trying to locate Steph and Ranger.

"We're from a company called Rangeman," Hal explained patiently, when Stephen lapsed into a stony silence. "Based in Trenton. We specialise in security and skip tracing."

"Skip tracing?" Stephen asked, curiosity piqued by the obviously unusual term.

"We'll explain about that later," Bobby put in from up front, spotting Tank on the sidewalk across the street and pulling to the curb. "It's not important right now."

"True," Hal agreed, nodding. "So anyway, your father used to head up the company."

Bobby hopped out of the car and waved his arms to get Tank's attention and the larger man began hobbling across the street, slightly bent and holding his back. It would have been comical in the old days when they were practically invincible, but these days Bobby was all too aware of the problems a life time of getting banged up had plagued on his friends and colleagues. While Tank was just as fit as he'd always been he occasionally suffered from back problems so painful they could be utterly debilitating. Clearly he had once again thrown his back out.

"What happened, man?" Bobby asked as he drew near

"She got away," Tank grumbled, cringing as he pulled open the passenger side door and began slowly climbing in.

Bobby shook his head, returning to his own door. "I can see that," he noted. "Are you alright?"

Tank shot him a glare as he finally settled into the seat and attempted to bring the seatbelt down across his chest, hissing as it clearly aggravated his injury. "I've been better." He flicked his eyes to the back seat where Hal and Steve sat silently, staring back at him. "Good, you got Esteban."

"Stephen," Hal quickly corrected with a quick glance to the teen at his side. "We were just about to explain the situation to him."

"We'll do that at the motel," Tank instructed.

Bobby nodded his understanding and started the car once more, pulling out into traffic. "Where are we booked?" he asked.

"Nowhere at the moment," he admitted.

This mission could have been organised much better, Bobby silently admitted, but given the urgency of the situation they'd all made oversights. Like Hal calling out to the kids when he spotted them, alerting them to their presence and freaking them out. It was a stupid move. The kids would already have been on edge what with their parents missing and the escape from the other security company. Now they'd separated the siblings unintentionally and would likely have to explain the situation twice. Given recent lapses in appropriate communication methods among the men, that wasn't the best idea.

"You know anywhere nearby?" Bobby asked, pushing his thoughts aside to focus on the current problem.

"Hal, check on your phone," Tank instructed.

While Hal proceeded to swipe at his phone, swearing occasionally as he inevitably hit wrong buttons and lost data unintentionally, Stephen decided to speak up, proving that he possessed the stubborn confidence of both his parents.

"So you're in charge here?" he asked Tank.

Tank grunted as the car hit a bump in the road, but managed to reply with a terse, "Yes."

"This guy claims you all know my parents."

"We do," Bobby confirmed, deciding he was going to need to drive around the area a bit to see if they could spot Regina while Hal found a motel. "Tank and I actually served in the Army Rangers with him," he explained.

A beat or two of silence passed while a few more mumbled curses came from Hal's corner of the car. "Pretty sure Dad wasn't in the army," Stephen finally spoke, and Bobby was relieved to hear that a lot of the anger had drained from his tone. A heavy load of suspicion was still layering his words, though.

"We'll explain later," Tank groaned as Bobby was forced to break suddenly. "It's too complicated for right now."

"I think I found one!" Hal announced, holding his phone closer to his face to read. "I can't see a number though... wait... I think... no, that's fax... wait a second... Yep! There is it." There was a pause during which Bobby assumed Hal was tapping the number into the phone to call. "Oh hey," he added. "It says I can book online."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Just call them.

"No, no," Hal said. "I got this." Another pause before he started reading. "Check. In. Date... Dude, what's today's date?"

"This is going to take forever," Tank said. "And Regina is probably long gone by now. Just head for the house, we'll check in with the others and try to come up with a pla-argh!" His words were cut off by the pained cry as Hal's arm suddenly thrust through the space between the front seats, holding in his iPhone in Tank's face while gripping the back of the seat with his other hand to keep the position. The jerking action must have jarred Tank's back. "Death," he seethed into Hal's ear.

"What room formation do we want?" Hal asked, oblivious to the pain he was inflicting on his superior. A moment past and Hal abruptly sat back. "Shit," he uttered. "What did I do? I lost the screen."

"Are you sure you're security specialists?" Stephen asked, laughter in his voice. "Seems to me you should be more tech savvy. And maybe more in shape."

Review, guys. You know you want to. I'll be waiting for you.