I could almost summon the smell of my cup of frappuccino as I walked towards the subway outside NYU.
It was already past 6 pm, so I whipped up a simple dinner plan: my frappuccino and a small pizza at the diner next to my favorite cafe down the block from my apartment.
I made a left turn. That was when I saw it.
The black car.
I felt a chill; the unease I felt earlier in the day washed over me in torrents.
I slowed my steps and, with all the slow-motion caution I could muster, turned to the left.
The car’s movement was almost invisible; it was impossibly slow.
The car is shadowing me. Has been since morning.
So, why?
Another black Mercedes-Benz SUV overtook, its front tire almost climbing the concrete sidewalk I stood on.
They are probably just rich undergrads here to pick their girlfriends up or something.
Maybe I’m just catastrophizing.
People don’t just ambush people in daylight on campus, right?
If alarms sounded in my ear before, they were now blaring at the sight of both vehicles’ doors opening.
Okay, time to run!
I turned away from the car and, just as I took a step, I felt a harsh grip on my arm.
Scratch that, my two arms.
“What? Leave me alone!”
I tried pivoting in alarm, but couldn’t move much. Two tall men in suits held each of my arms as another similarly dressed man stepped out of the car.
Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t blame any passerby for not noticing or coming to my aid.
A white handkerchief came over my mouth, the tight knot behind it digging into my skin. The men dragged me into the back seat of the second car, and one of them sat beside me.
I looked around the car, not sure if I was looking for something that could aid my escape or a sign that pointed at whoever these people were.
The man in the front seat turned partially towards the back, and I saw that he was bald. He looked every bit like a bouncer-and not the posh types that stood outside lavish hotels. His gaze didn’t last longer than a second before he turned to the driver and lifted a brow toward the road.
The buildings passed in a blur as the car soundlessly sped off ahead of the first one.
If I were to guess, I would have said maybe some criminal group found out that I was Senator Romano’s daughter and decided to get some ransom by kidnapping me. It wasn’t a secretwho my father was- my three acquaintances knew. Some of my neighbors also knew. They also knew I liked my private life and would rather not ‘share’ the information. But any of them might have spilled the beans in an exhilarated state at a bar- a bar where a gangster or criminal informant was chilling.
“Lawrence,” the bald guy called. “Send Romano the note: The debt is collected. Your daughter belongs to Viktor Lobanov now.”
My eyes enlarged as realization slapped me in the face.
My dad?
“Right away,” the guy beside me answered, bringing out his phone from his pocket.
I wasn’t kidnapped by chance.
