I can’t move my legs at the ankles, and I can’t see why. I’m assuming I’m taped up there, too. I shift a little, feeling sticky tape crinkling with my movement.
My mouth isn’t taped shut. A big mistake on their part. Then again, my loud mouth will usher my death in a lot faster.
The feeling of impending doom is ever present in my chest, but it gets overshadowed by sorrow. I have so much more to do. I need to yell at Gabriel and kiss Ace. That asshole didn’t kiss me before he stomped out in a huff earlier. I need to yell at him, too.
That perks my burning anger up nicely. My lips firm as I take in my situation again.
It’s bad, but I’ve got wiggle room.
Aren’t they supposed to have a chair with arms to tie me to? The tape isn’t very tight, either. No, I can’t get it off as I struggle, but I have more movement than I think I should.
I’m judging my kidnappers' techniques. There’s definitely something wrong with me.
If I sit up and lean to the left a little. I can get my fingers into the hole at the back of my pants. The metal escape card slides out easily, which surprises me. The problem comes when I try to bend out the tool that I need without dropping the whole thing.
The door in front of me swings open, and my hands clench over the card. I jab myself with the tool and mentally curse it for being helpful at the wrong time. Stark fear hits me. My breathing gets faster as my chin jerks up to see who’s there.
Three guys wearing ski masks casually stroll in, one at a time. Dressed all in black, they look like any other bad guy. It reminds me of how Shade dresses for a second before I look closer.
The synchronized color is ruined by the mismatched shirts and jeans with the slacks and button-ups. They weren’t on the same page this morning.
My eyes catch on the brass knuckles on one guy’s hand and linger.
This is going to suck. A lot.
I cycle through a few emotions. Sorrow again. Fear for whatever pain is going to come my way. Shame because my first instinct is to give them whatever they want as long as they promise not to hurt me. Then my trusty go-to emotion pops in, wiping everything else out.
Rage.
Today is the day I die. A fuckingMonday,of course.
Okay. Deal with it.
And take as many of these assholes out with you as you can.
With the anger comes a certain amount ofdon’t give a shitimmunity to the fear. They started it after all. They can’t bitch about me finishing it. They won’t have enough teeth left for it anyway.
“Mrs. Blake.”
Well, look who is dying with me first. He’s going to be begging to say my proper last name soon.
I am a goddamnJefferson.
The guy in the center takes a single step forward with a swagger and a smirk as he speaks.
“We have a few questions for you. If you answer, you go free. If you don’t, we play.”
I don’t believe anyone is going free today, but I choose not to comment.
This clinches that they aren’t professionals. Both Shade and Jake assured me that pain before questions nets better results. Like it was something they learned out of a manualeveryone got when they started torture school. These guys are as much amateurs as I am.
The thought comforts me. I can’t see myself taking on any super special, well-trained Matthias guys with any type of efficiency. But if we’re all losers, I have a better chance. Not that the logic of that helped me earlier.
“Do you understand what that means?” A pair of brass knuckles waves in my face from the guy to the left. He’s not even wearing them yet. My eyes dart from the motion to his mocking brown eyes.
“I got it.” I’d pretend to be terrified, but I’m too pissed off.
How did they find me? If I had known this would happen I would have gone out on day one for a coffee and set my capture up myself.