The first voice moves closer to his end of our strange speaker-system. “Dis doesn’t feel right. My sister’s pregnant. How’s that gonna fly? Huh?”
My reflection goes white and my heart pounds as I strain to make out the bits and pieces of conversation coming from overhead. “…going to get hurt …scare …easy money.”
Blake opens her mouth but I place a finger over her lips. She nods, zips her purse open wide, and pulls out a pistol.
Holy shit. Who carries a gun to a baby shower?
Someone next door flushes and water rushes between the walls. Then, two sets of footsteps pound up the stairs. With shaking hands, I text my husband but, in the basement, my phone is useless.
I hold up the screen with no 4G and no wifi, and point up the stairs. Mentally, I reassure my baby within.Don’t worry honey, your mommy and Auntie Blake have this.
Blake cracks open the door, pistol in hand. “You should stay put.”
“No way.” I squeeze in behind her, staring up the stairs where Suds shouts, women scream, and furniture overturns.
“Stay behind me.” Gun held with both hands, she slowly inches up the stairs with me at her back.
We peek over the landing, across the main restaurant, and into the small banquet room. Two men bind the hands of my friends. Sienna is first, then Mel, and next, Lilac. Isabella faces the stairwell and I’m quite sure she sees us but keeps her face stony.
What happened to Suds? A Patten bodyguard doesn’t go down without a fight. At the thought of him unconscious or even dead, my knees go weak. Perhaps he’s hiding in the kitchen, biding his time.
If not, we’ll need to wait for Lucky to come back. I mute my phone and point to Blake to do the same. A bleep right now would surely get us killed.
With five full bars, I ping 911 to Lucky and the police while keeping one eye glued to the other room. The smaller of the two men puts a pile of plastic ties on the table, reaches behind his back, and pulls out a gun. The taller guy with him must be either a brother or a cousin. They both have similar squinty eyes, dark brows, and large noses.
Shorty points his gun at Lilac. “Where did the other two go?”
“They went outside with the bodyguard, to bring the presents to the car.” She shifts her gaze to the front door.
Good answer.
“Fuck!” The taller guy paces and glances into a small window in the kitchen door. “I told you we should’ve done this earlier.”
“It doesn’t matter. Three is just as good as six. Capice?”
“What I do understand is we should go.” He holds open the swinging door, they both leave, and the place goes dark.
When the breeze created by their exit hits my nostrils, I grab Blake’s hand and pull her up the stairs. “Oh my God, I smell gas. I’ll find Suds. You cut them free.”
Lucky should be back any second but it may not be soon enough.
My tied-up friends shout encouragements to Blake as I feel my way between tables and chairs. A small amount of light shines under the kitchen door. Crack on steroids, adrenaline races through my veins, I push, and enter.
The smell stronger, my head swims as I step between the steel countertops and stoves. In the left corner, I wiggle the handle of the outside door for some much-needed oxygen but it won’t budge. It must be locked from the outside.
Holy shit. We’re trapped.
A man yells from far away, breaking my panic. Suds? I look forever hoping I won’t pass out before I find him. Finally, in the walk-in freezer, I drop to my knees in a pool of blood.
“Oh my God. Are you hurt bad?”
“Only my pride.” Holding a hand to his ruined white shirt, he curses, and wobbles to stand. “Shit, do I smell gas?”
“Yes, we need to move.” I put an arm around his waist, and rush him to where Blake cuts the last of the women’s tie-wraps with a steak knife.
Izzy pushes on the partially open front door and chains rattle. “Oh my God, it’s locked.”
Suds speaks into his comm unit. “Loch, get bolt cutters and for fuck’s sake, don’t shoot. We smell gas! I’m taking the women downstairs. Yeah. Copy that.”
