A Twisted Fantasy (Leon Kennedy X OC) [BOOK 2]

Chapter 1: Far too many damsels

"So you're telling me we have no idea who I'm meeting out here?" I questioned, hands splaying out in front of me like Isaac could somehow see me through the communication earpiece. The thin, pale forest blurred together through the car window as the answer to my question came.

"Yeah, it's fucking nuts. I can't get a hold of anyone at the White House. I'm not even sure they know what's going on, the President is just throwing resources at this," Isaac sighed, his voice loud and clear in my ear.

It seemed like everyone was rising to meet the President's level of panic. Eighteen hours ago I was at the gym with Chris, ready to eat lunch and conquer a mountain of paperwork on my desk, and now I'm in the middle of the Spain equivalent of Ohio. I hadn't even been able to blink before my phone had begun ringing off the hook and my ass was planted in the middle seat of an airplane.

I let out a sigh, "It's probably Jason..." Bleh. Even his name made my blood simmer.

Jason is the biggest asshole the White House has. It's all war hero this and I'm the shit that. We'd butted heads since we first met, mostly because I wasn't able to keep my face neutral or my smart mouth shut. The mutual hate we share will make this mission a living nightmare. His snide, matter of fact voice, the stories he uses to justify his overinflated ego, the way he chews gum with his mouth open.

I can't deal with it for longer than fifteen minutes, how can I be expected to go a whole mission with him? My fists tightened at my sides as the car went over a large bump in the road.

"Yikes, condolences," Isaac quipped in a way that told me his face was twisted into a grimace.

I huffed out a small laugh, "Thanks, your moral support is appreciated."

"What are friends for? Aaaaanyway, how far out are you? Jason got a head start so he must already be there."

"Hold on," I tore my gaze away from the window and looked to the driver, "¿Cuánto falta para llegar?"  (How much farther?)

The female looked into the rearview mirror and gave me a small smile. "It's just up the road," she answered in english. She had a kind face, her skin a warm caramel and eyes a molten brown.

I returned the pleasant smile and turned back to the window. "I'm almost there, does Jason know I'm coming?"

"Not sure, but I'll let you know as soon as I know."

"I wouldn't be surprised to hear the fucker has already moved in. Maybe if I'm lucky he already found her and I can turn around and come straight home," But of course that would mean never hearing the end of it. "This is such a shit show," I sighed, letting my head tip back toward the seat behind me.

Shit show might just be the understatement of the century. The President's daughter is kidnapped from her seemingly impenetrable security detail and whisked off to Europe. American agencies are scrambling for any information, following leads from a tip line where every other caller claims they saw Ashley Graham at their local library.

"You're telling me, everyone around here is losing their shit." He paused for a moment, voice dropping, "I really hope you're able to find her..."

"Me too." Because the alternative puts us back at square one again. If she's not here, then where? The hours since she'd been taken are melting away, making it more and more unlikely we'll be able to get her back.

Another moment of silence stretched between us.

"Alright, I'll get back to you as soon as I know something. Ring me when you find that agent. Good luck."