Page 69 of Gluttony

Once we’re in the car, I realize it’s not a normal car, there’s no protective barrier between me and them. Then I remember that detective cars don’t have them, and for some reason, that thought reassures me.

Minutes later, the female cop walks out, her police hat tucked underneath her arm and two blonde braids framing her face. It’s impossible to miss how fucking gorgeous she is, but more than that, she looks like she could punch you in the chest and rip your heart right out without even blinking.

I don’t know whether to wither in fear or be turned on. When she smacks the roof of the car twice, I decide fear it is.

“Let’s ride.” At her command, the car moves away from the sidewalk, the city life only pausing to look if there’s something interesting to film or talk about at work tomorrow. I turn, wanting to see where the woman is going because I didn’t notice another car behind this one.

And that’s because there isn’t one.

“Hey, don’t freak out. We ain’t gonna hurt ya.” My eyes are staring at the back of Shorty’s head and I wish I had Supergirl laser eyes so I could add two big holes to his skull.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell that to my frantic heart.” I swear to fuck, one day my mouth will get me killed.

Now, I don’t pretend to be an expert on The City, but when you’re living life avoiding the cops, you tend to know where the police stations are located. I happen to know for a fact that the nearest station is about ten minutes west of this hotel, which begs the question…why are we going toward the East River?

“Where are we going? The station is back there.” Of course, my question goes unanswered and my fear hikes up a few more notches. This time, my survival instincts tell me to shut my fucking mouth and see where this takes me. I have a better chance at freedom once we’re stopped somewhere than trying to escape a moving car.

Paying close attention to the route we’re following, I do my best not to freak out when we take the 495 into Brooklyn. On the rare occasions Mickey and I drove to JFK, we’d take this tunnel because it was the quickest way out.

Fuck, I hope I’m not being taken out of the country, because I think it is now safe to say, these two goons are not police and as Big Guy pays for the toll, I realize I’ve officially been kidnapped.

Still, by some miracle, I keep my big mouth shut and just stay focused on where we’re going while the guys talk about shit that I don’t understand. Something about plumbing and the ground being level enough to not send shit back up the toilet.

Yeah, this is surreal.

To my relief, we veer south and within fifteen minutes, they stop the car in an empty parking lot with warehouses all around us. Great, this is how I die…in an abandoned lot somewhere on the fucking East River docks.

“Come on, sweetheart, time to move out.” Big Guy steps out first while Shorty turns around in his passenger seat and smiles at me.

“You doin’ okay?” I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering, just narrow my eyes and stay silent. In my head, though, that’s a whole different story. “Look, I don’t make the rules, ya know?” Then he shrugs as he opens the passenger door and joins his buddy.

By this point, they’ve dropped the pretense of wearing the uniform. The caps are in the car and the button downs have been replaced by leather jackets.

Who the fuck are these guys and where the hell did Mickey find them?

As I try to rack my brain with some logical answers, the loud roar of an engine drags my attention back to the reality of my situation. The guys stand outside my door like they’re afraid I’ll run away, which I must admit, did cross my mind. Problem is…where the fuck would I go and what are my chances of making it when King Kong over here has legs twice as long as mine? None, that’s what.

To my surprise, there are two motorcycles pulling up and one of them is the female cop, who I’m guessing is no cop at all judging by the way her costume is completely gone. What does make complete sense is that she’s the leader of these thugs. I don’t need to hear it, it’s written all over their faces as they turn to the side and give a view of their features. The respect, the adoration, the need to please. It would be cute if I wasn’t the victim of a kidnapping.

The woman doesn’t say anything, she just nods to the entrance. By her side is the fourth cop that was at the hotel room. He was standing in front of Hadley and Orion while the woman was pinning Hayes against the wall, no doubt a guard dog.

Just as the thought passes, the man plucks a blond braid and pulls the woman to him, slamming his mouth to hers and giving her a quick, albeit hot as fuck, kiss before grinning like a madman and slapping her on the ass. As a reward, she punches him in the shoulder and walks away.

So fucking weird. What mobster movie did I just get dropped into and how do I get the fuck off this reel?

“Outchya go.”

I think I growl as Shorty grabs my bicep and helps me out of the car. Fear is crawling under my skin but anger is making a comeback with every passing minute.

“If it’s not in this life, I will fuck you up from beyond the grave.” Good one, Bowie, scare this dude by telling him you’re going to haunt him once he kills you. So, when he bursts into laughter, I can’t say I’m surprised.

“You’re cute. Come on, let’s go.”

The inside of the warehouse is empty save for two chairs facing each other and a table between them.

“Hey, Donny Brasco called and he wants his movie set back.” Stupid Bowie, shut your fucking mouth for once.

I’m expecting a gun pointed to my forehead. Instead, I get three male voices booming with laughter while Badass Bitch just smirks like she’s impressed by me.

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