Chapter 8
Blakely.
Six hours ago
My nose hurts the way it’s pressed into the back seat and the cloying scent of upholstery cleaner makes me want to puke. Suddenly, my arms are pulled behind, almost out of their sockets. I scream as rough hands grab my hands, plastic ties dig into my wrists, and my skin breaks open.
For the first time since being grabbed, I wonder if Jack will ever find me. Mr. Sneer paws through my purse, pulls out my cell phone, and grinning, pockets my sim card.
Silently, I thank God for Jack’s stubbornness. He rid me of the purse-gun and insisted I carry a real weapon with professional holsters. I press down with my upper arm, comforted by the feel of my pistol nestled next to my body.
I just pray when the time comes, I’ll be brave enough to use it.
When we stop at a light, I turn my head toward the window where the Empire State Building blocks the sky. I must be in the thirties between Fifth and Seventh Avenues. I store the information for later use.
The man behind the wheel barks in Chinese at Mr. Sneer, who pins me back down to the seat by my neck.
Who are these guys and why do they want me? At first, I thought my old cult wanted me back but they’d never hire Asians or any non-white.
If not The Church of Heavenly Bliss, then who? And why?
Neither Jack nor I come from money. Sure, we got a couple wealthy friends but that doesn’t make sense. No one gets kidnapped because of rich acquaintances. My thoughts are still churning when the driver pulls into a dark parking garage. Mr. Sneer pulls me to sitting, money exchanges hands with a grubby attendant, and I’m shoved into a smaller car with a different driver.
A few blocks later, we stop and I’m led out onto the sidewalk and down a set of subway stairs. Mr. Sneer stops halfway. He puts a hat on my head, pulls a dark cape over my coat, and places sunglasses on my face. Now it’s so dark I can barely see.
His accent is thick and his tone cold as hard metal pokes into my back. “I have a gun. Walk ahead of me and don’t try anything stupid.”
The dark glasses don’t make it easy as I stumble blindly. At the turnstile, he swipes a metro card and pushes me forward into the bars. We go down another set of stairs and once we’re on the train’s platform, I glance up, hoping a camera might pick up my face and send it to Jack.”
The man snickers. “The glasses disable facial recognition.”
Jack will find me, I’m sure of it.
But does he even know I’m missing? I missed our phone-sex date but is that enough for him to grow suspicious? Surely, if I don’t answer my phone by morning, he’ll start to call my mom and my friends.
Shit.How often have I let my cell battery die? He might not be concerned until tomorrow evening. By then, I could be dead.
Clearly, I’m going to have to get out of this jam by myself. When the timing is right, I’ll just take out my gun and shoot this asshole. There’s just one tiny problem to solve. My hands are tied behind me.
The D train rumbles in the tunnel and squeals to a halt in front of us. The doors open, I’m shoved inside and sit. Passengers in dark coats sit randomly with an array of canvas bags at their feet. All stare at their cell phones, Kindles, or out the windows. Mouthing the wordhelpwould be pointless.
Welcome to New York.
Because of the holiday, the trains are running on the local tracks making progress slow. After about ten stops, the door opens, and Mr. Sneer pokes his gun into my side. Standing quickly, we depart onto another platform. When I turn my head to figure out where we are, I’m shoved in the opposite direction, into a dark tunnel.
“I can’t see.” One false step and I’ll tumble onto the tracks. Maybe he’s hoping?
Pretending to slip, I use the rough wall to push the lenses down to the tip of my nose. Good thing I did because our path is but a thin strip of cement. My sneakers barely fit.
The further we go, the darker it gets. Around a corner, the tunnel glows eerily from a green signal light. The next train will surely rush by and kill us.
“Hurry up.” Mr. Sneer shoves, I slip and wobble, about to fall six feet without any hands to break my fall.
A large hand grabs my cape by the neck and I’m pulled back to the wall. My heart thumps so hard I can’t even hear myself hyperventilating. Frozen with fear, I don’t dare take another step.
“Go. The door is just ahead.” My captor presses metal to the small of my back.
“I c-c-can’t.” I open my eyes and am rewarded by the walls of the tunnel spinning in circles.
