Page 65 of Bosse
Kinter squatted next to him. He whispered, “What’s your fucking problem?”
By now, Bosse had a string of saliva running out of his mouth. He gagged and mumbled, “What’d you feed me?”
“Everyone ate the same thing.”
“Mine... maybe bad mayonnaise.” That could be possible. He had to avoid lying. “I don’t know. I need water to puke.” Still true because he could not make himself throw up with his hands tied.
Peeling his eyelashes apart a tiny seam, Bosse took in his captor.
Kinter’s shirt showed damp spots where he’d begun to sweat. He clutched his head and finally said, “You have to climb out and stand up.”
“Okay. Okay. I...” Bosse rasped. He acted as if his body seized up again and rolled forward but couldn’t fall all the way. The chains kept him upright. He begged, “Water.”
“Help me get you out of here first, and then I’ll give you water. I don’t want this van to stink of puke.”
Kinter was not as big as Bosse. He unhooked Bosse from the van, then took the chain off between Bosse’s wrists and ankles. “Push up when I grab you.”
With Kinter tugging and lifting, Bosse made it outside the van to lean against the cool metal surface.
“What is taking so long?” the stranger who must be with the Black River Pack called out.
Kinter yelled, “Getting the hardware off. Give me a minute.” Then he shoved a bottle of water at Bosse. “Drink up.”
Bosse drank it fast and hard. He needed to throw up to maintain his act. He was almost done when he leaned over and puked. Thankfully, some of the sandwich came up. He sagged.
Kinter grabbed his arm. “No, don’t do that. You need to stand and walk.”
“I will try.”
Kinter told the driver, “Start walking them around the van so we can give that guy a good look.” He told Bosse, “Walk.”
Bosse stumbled, took a step, stumbled again, and fell into the van.
“Damn it. Hold up.” Kinter dropped to his knees and unhooked the ankle cuffs.
This had the potential to work out. Bosse began walking in short steps and swallowing hard.
“Pick your head up,” Kinter hissed at him.
Doing as told, Bosse lifted his head and took in the sight of the Black River Pack sent to pick them up. He almost went to his knees for real.
All were in human form, but the large one had to be this group’s leader. He stood with his arms crossed and a step in front of four more shifters dressed in tactical gear and carrying rifles.
Bosse had hoped to break free by fighting Kinter and the driver while the buyer loaded the others.
That would never happen with four rifles trained on him.
His life was over.
