Page 4 of Intangible
Memphis’ plan was to keep his head down, try to keep control of his gift and live his life in quiet peace.
“Well, I had better head home. I have a farm call first thing in the morning. Thanks for the pie,” he said, rising to his feet from the small table in the kitchen. He had already discussed everything from the weather to cattle prices with the Browns. But morning for a rural veterinarian in this area came early and he could use some sleep.
After being easily convinced to take a second piece of pie, he headed home to get some sleep before work. The pie was sitting on the seat next to him when he turned into the driveway leading to his cabin. It wasn’t a large house, with only one bedroom, but it was his.
Stopping in front of the house, he studied it for a few minutes, certain he had left the porch light on. Maybe the bulb burned out while he was gone.
With a shrug, Memphis gathered up his pie and wet shirt before climbing out of the truck. He had made one more stop by the barn just to make sure the calf was being taken good care of. It was dry, curled up next to its mama, so he had said his goodbyes before heading home.
Opening the door of the cabin with one hand, he set the pie on a table by the door. He was still singing the last song he had heard on the only radio station he could get on the drive home. Memphis had only a brief second of realization that his dog hadn’t met him at the door before he heard a deep voice.
“Taylor Swift? Really?” Suddenly, his body contracted as he slid into darkness.
The lights in his cabin were on when Memphis woke up. With a groan, he raised his head up, prying his eyes open. He had only a few seconds to look at the handful of men standing in his living room before his stomach cramped, emptying his piece of pie in a bucket a large man held.
“Where’s my fucking dog?” Memphis growled when he finally stopped retching.
“Sleeping in the bedroom. We had to sedate him before he ate us.” The big man stepped back, handing the bucket to another man. He had to be well over six feet tall with a scowl that would have most men quaking in their boots.
Memphis closed his eyes, waiting for the next wave of nausea to pass over him. He knew his body didn’t react the way others did, but damn, this felt worse than normal. Opening his eyes once he had managed to quell the bile in his throat, it struck him what had happened.
“Did you taser me? What was it set on, kill?” Memphis asked, trying to get his mind to focus on what was happening. Yanking on his arms, he realized he had been tied to the chair from his bedroom. If they were here to rob him, they had gone to an extreme amount of trouble. Besides, there was nothing of value here. Everything worth stealing was at the vet clinic, locked up.
“Figured it would get your attention the quickest. I didn’t realize it would hit you so hard, though. My bad,” the big man snorted. Was that supposed to be some sort of apology, Memphis wondered?
Looking around, Memphis ignored the large man dressed in black standing in front of him. He might be the one talking, but Memphis could tell the man in the business suit sitting calmly in one of the living room chairs was really in charge.
“What do you want?” he asked, pulling at the restraints holding his arms to the chair. If he could just get loose, he would beat the shit out of all of them. “There’s probably thirty bucks in there,” he said, nodding toward his wallet the man was studying. “Just take it and get out. I don’t have anything else.”
“We have a situation we need your assistance with,” the big man answered, placing a large hand on Memphis’ shoulder to hold him still. With a sinking feeling, Memphis realized they weren’t just in a hurry to steal his television. No, he was almost certain that they had come for something else and he was in serious trouble.
“I’ll ask again, what do you want? Get your fucking hands off of me.” His eyes stayed glued on the man in the suit, but he was talking to the big man as he grabbed his hair to pull Memphis’ head back. With a quick look at his eyes, the man turned his head loose again.
Memphis was already pissed that he had become so relaxed about his safety in this sleepy rural area that he had let his guard drop. Looking around, he realized the men had military-grade weapons trained on him. They’d have to kill him before he would go back into the Army, he didn’t care what they wanted.
“You’re going to help us find someone.” Memphis’ eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second before he could regain control, but it was enough to confirm something. He was the man they were looking for. They had finally tracked down the one man in the world who could find a needle in a haystack.
“Fuck you,” Memphis growled at them. “You don’t come into my home, tase me, and drug my dog. If you think I’m going to help you do anything, you’re out of luck.” His outburst was met with a punch to the stomach from the big man.
“You’ll do what I tell you to do!” he snarled.
Memphis just gasped, praying he didn’t throw up again. He didn’t care how badly they beat him, he wasn’t going back with them.
“Again, fuck you,” Memphis wheezed out when he had regained his breath, earning a backhand from the big man. Memphis spit blood from his now busted lip at him.
“Stop. Knox, untie him.” The man in the suit stepped forward, laying his hand on the big man’s sleeve. “We’ll find another way.”
“Sir, he can find her. His abilities at search and rescue go beyond anything I’ve ever heard about. I’ll make him find her if I have to.” It sounded to Memphis like this Knox character was pleading with the man in the suit.
“I know, but this isn’t right. I won’t torture someone to find her. If Dr. Prescott won’t help us, we’ll just have to think of something else.”
“Sir, we’ve run out of something else. He’s our last hope.” Against his will, Memphis started to find his interest piqued. These two men obviously weren’t professional kidnappers or torturers, thank God. It was also unlikely now that they were some branch of the military trying to drag him back in. But he would reserve judgment until he was certain.
“Untie him,” the man in charge said, motioning to the other men. When the cable ties were cut off, Memphis tried to stand but fell back into the chair, finding his legs asleep from being tied too tight.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he snarled at them. “I don’t care who you’re hunting, I won’t help you.” With another push, he managed to rise, walking awkwardly toward the bedroom where his dog was.
Passing Knox, he managed to land a solid punch to his stomach, making the man grunt slightly. The man was solid, Memphis thought, rubbing his wrist. He’d give him at least that much.
