I was only a few miles outside town. I could run that easily under normal circumstances, but I’d need different footwear and I’d have to stay off the road.
Not ideal, but definitely a possibility. I calculated my other options.
There were three doors that led in different directions and a utilitarian staircase that went up to what looked like a dark loft area. Definitely not a viable escape option, I decided.
The henchman clamped a hand on my shoulder and marched me over to one of the heavy wooden doors. “Let’s go,” he said, opening it.
It was a wooden staircase that led down a level.
“Really? A basement lair? How cliché.” It was actually kind of genius. Finding an abandoned property far enough outside town that no one would notice any activity? Maybe my captor wasn’t a complete idiot after all.
“Move,” he told me.
I took my time, hobbling down all fifteen stairs.
I had to keep my wits about me. I had to stall. The longer I kept them distracted, the more time it would give Nash to find me.
Cereal Aisle Guy guided me to the left at the foot of the stairs and through an open doorway.
There, seated with his muddy boots propped carelessly on top of a beautiful oak desk, was Tate fucking Dilton.
Shit.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here. If it isn’t the leggy bitch from the bar.”
I’d been prepared to face down a junior organized crime lord, not a dirty, disgraced cop.
Dilton tossed his phone down on the desk and chewed his gum smugly.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Not who you were expecting?”
“Wait. Let me get this straight.You’rethe mastermind here?” I said to Dilton, wondering how hard it would be to separate him from his phone.
“Damn straight I am.”
My kidnapper cleared his throat pointedly behind me.
Dilton’s gaze moved to him. “You got somethin’ to say, Nikos?”
Nikos the grocery store kidnapper.
“Where is he?” Nikos replied.
“That’s need to know, and you don’t need to know, son,” Dilton said.
Okay. The bad guys were in-fighting. This could either go really well for me or really, reallynotwell. Either way, I needed a plan.
There was an ancient-looking monitor on the counter behind the desk. Unfortunately, there was no phone or laptop or conveniently placed flare gun.
On the opposite wall was a huge flat-screen TV with a couch in front of it.
“Don’t you know you seem more threatening when you pretend like you’re so in synch you can read each other’s minds? Haven’t you ever seen a James Bond movie before?”
“Go get him,” Nikos said, ignoring me.
“Fuck you,” Dilton shot back. “I’m in charge here. You go get him.”
“You can’t keep me here,” I said, drawing their attention back to me.