Page 4 of Blood
The security in this building is fucking appalling. Even the emergency exit doesn’t have an alarm. It’s just a door, and you can also use it to walk right into the building, away from the prying eyes of the security cameras in the lobby. I’d wager they don’t even work.
I pop open the trunk of the sedan that’s waiting for me. There’s a roll of duct tape in there, along with some other crap. I use the tape to secure her hands in front of her, binding her wrists. Her constant cursing slowed as we left the building, replaced now by frantic breathing. I’m choosing to focus on the fact that she’s quiet. There’s no time to deal with an impending panic attack.
I toss the roll of tape back in the trunk and shove it to the side, along with the rope, towels, and tarp. I hadn’t exactly planned on an abduction today, but there’s still plenty of room for a tiny thing like her.
I pull out the tool kit and the crowbar, then place them on the ground. I wouldn’t put it past her to use anything at her disposal to try and escape. She’s young and obviously inexperienced, but there’s an air of desperation about her, her rapid breathing giving her away.
Her eyes are darting back and forth, watching what I’m doing, and she seems to have figured out that she’s going in the trunk. She starts to open her mouth, pausing her hyperventilating for a second.
She’s about to scream, and she’s going to regret it.
I slap a hand over her open mouth when she finishes her breath in, before she can make a sound. I pinch her nose with my thumb and forefinger, too, for good measure. The sooner she understands exactly what she’s dealing with, the better. She’s in over her head. I also need her unconscious right now and, having not planned on kidnapping, I don’t have anything to knock her out other than a lack of oxygen.
“Bad girl. No screaming.”
Her eyes are going wide as she tries to pull in a breath, her shaking body starting to flail wildly. I’ve cut off her oxygen; I understand her panic.
The drive to breathe is one of our most basic instincts—as it turns out, you don’t even need a full brain to breathe. Just a brainstem. Our bodies are hard-wired to protect our breathing, so choking or drowning is a vicious way to go. It’s not like I’m going to kill her, though. Not now.
Eventually, her body goes slack, and I remove my hand. I bundle her limp body into the trunk before I check to make sure she’s still breathing. She takes shallow breaths, and she has a nice, strong pulse.
I check her for other weapons; the little sneak has a switchblade attached to her ankle, which I remove, and I take her iPhone, too. I remove the sim card and toss the phone on the ground.
I slam the trunk shut, locking my little captive inside. My sister’s face flashes into my head again. I shake my head to rid myself of the vision. Memories of my sister are visions of my own failings, and I don’t need a reminder of that right now.
I pick up the tools and the crowbar, setting them in the front seat with me. I turn my phone off, too, before slipping it in the glove compartment along with the sim card I took from her phone.
Muttering under my breath, I ease the car out into traffic.
Today has gone spectacularly wrong. I still haven’t figured out exactly how wrong.
We need to get out of the city and lay low for a while. There are going to be people looking for both of us, no doubt. I need us away for long enough that I can figure out who she’s tangled up with and how she got herself into this mess.
4
Everleigh
I’minacramped,dark space. My wrists are tightly bound together. I twist them back and forth, trying to get free, but the duct tape holding them together isn’t coming apart easily. I don’t remember how I got in here, but know I’m in the trunk of this guy’s car. The man who took me hostage after I saw him at Bobby’s apartment. The guy who killed Bobby, obviously. Why else would he be there?
My breathing picks up as panic takes hold. The edges of my vision start to go black. My hands tingle. I’m trapped. I can’t get away. My breaths come in short pants, not enough to fill my lungs.
Fuck. Not now. I can’t let my mind go back there. I don’t have time for a panic attack.
My body lurches as the car hits a bump, knocking me out of my spiral.
I’m so fucked. For so many reasons. Maybe it’s a blessing that I’ve been abducted, or whatever is happening here. I failed to do the job the Kings sent me for. They’ll be angry. I’ll lose my chance. I bring my hands up to my neck. Even in my current situation, the reminder of my mother’s necklace still clasped around my neck is comforting, filling me with relief.
But that soon turns to rage. This asshole thinks he can just kidnap me? Doesn’t he know who my brother is? I didn’t even fucking see this guy do anything. If he had just stayed behind the curtain, I could have popped an extra bullet into Bobby and called it good. No one would have to know which bullet killed him.
This guy is so dead when the Kings get to him. But then, I might be as good as dead, too.
They made it clear thatIwas supposed to kill Bobby Martinez. The fact that he’s dead is helpful to them—I assume, since they usually don’t kill for sport—but I wasn’t the one to finish the job. It wasn’t just about getting rid of Bobby. It was my way of proving my loyalty, buying my way into the Kings. And I failed.
Do this job, and we’ll initiate you into the Kings. We’ll protect you. We take care of our own.
This was also supposed to be my way of proving myself to Asher, to get him to let me back in his life. Now that Dad is gone, Asher is the closest thing I have to a father figure, and I need him to be proud of me.
Maybe if I’d been quicker and shot the asshole who’s now my captor, I could have claimed responsibility for both. Dammit.
