Page 116 of Coff

I shove my phone into my right pocket, then try to free myself from whoever has a hold of me, but I can’t shake him. Then another man grabs my right arm. Where is Ozzie?

They drag me for what feels like a mile and then toss me onto a hard floor. Someone moans near me, and I recognize the voice.

“Ozzie?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we?”

“I think a van.”

How the hell were we made?

“Hey, can you sit up?” Ozzie asks.

I try but fail. “No, you?”

“No.”

The van moves, and we roll around on the floor each time it turns. Finally, it stops moving, and the back door opens.

“How much time before it wears off?” a man asks.

“Not much for this one,” another man says.

I turn toward the voices as my vision seems to be clearing up. One man is tall with tattoos on his face. The other man is shorter and wearing a suit. I’d guess he was at the fundraiser.

“Let’s get them tied up,” Suit says.

Tattoo gets in the van, holding a rope, and ties my hands behind my back. Then he stares at me. “Can you walk on your own?”

I shrug.

“Try.”

He jumps out of the van, and I scoot toward the open door and then get out. I’m standing, not steady, but I’m up.

“Get the other one,” Suit says.

Tattoo jumps back into the van and ties Ozzie’s hands in the same way. But when Ozzie gets out of the van, he falls to the ground.

“He had more,” Suit says.

Tattoo lifts Ozzie, which can’t be easy since the man is over six feet tall and all muscle. They take us inside what appears to be an office building. Inside are several men with guns. My bad feeling is getting worse.

We are taken into the same room and tied to chairs. By the time the men leave us alone, whatever they gave us has worn off.

“Hey, boss,” a man says outside the door. “That man at the fundraiser died.”

“Shit!” Suit says. “Asshole was sucking down those drinks.” He sighs. “It should be fine. They will determine he had a heart attack.”

A few moments later, Tattoo walks in, dragging someone behind him. He throws the guy in a chair, and that’s when I see it’s my brother. He has a black eye and likely a broken nose. Tattoo ties him in a chair, just like us.

Ruiz walks in smiling. “Well, well. I’m so happy you could join me here.” He turns to Ozzie. “Sorry about this. It looks like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I’m not sure what to make of that. Were we made or not?

“Why are we here?” I ask.

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