By now, Tommy knows his daughter has been taken by terrorists. How long before he comes looking for Charlie? Or does he already know she escaped with the Brennans?
A phone rings in the other room and one of the kidnappers answers. “Hello, Tommy, my friend… No need for obscenities… I see… Well, I beg to differ. We have your girl and are willing to exchange her for the items you owe us. Unfortunately for you, the price has increased.”
The man chuckles and no longer muted, O’Malley swears. “I want proof of life.”
Fuck.The moment my boss hears my voice, he’ll know I’m not his daughter. While he and I get along quite well, I’m worth more to him dead than alive.
“Hold on.” His boots clomp on the floor and grow louder.
Bracing beside the door, I bend my knees. When the door cracks open, my foot connects with the guy’s balls.
“Owww, Jesus.” While he grips his cojones, I grab his gun, slip the knife from his sheath, and toss it in the corner.
“Hands up.” Back to the entrance, I loosen my grip and pretend to be unaware of the man about to snatch the pistol out of my hands.
Once I let go, the safety clicks, I close my eyes, and…
“For chrissake, stop you idiots.” Phone to his ear, the leader enters the room. “Your offspring is alive enough to grab a weapon and unman one of my best warriors. I think this is the only proof you will get today. The next evidence will be a finger, one at a time, until you give us what we agreed upon.”
The boss hangs up, retrieves a long blade from his belt’s sheath, and sticks the point near my eye. “Do it again, little lady, and I will gut you.”
Acting contrite, I allow them to lead me back into the bedroom where they double-tie-wrap my arms and legs. After their voices fade, I snicker and stuff Mr. Smashed-Balls’s knife under the mattress. On the floor now, I scootch to the gap under the door, and listen.
“Mack. Why not let me kill her?” The man I kneed in the groin whines like a little girl.
“Because, stupid, we need to trade her for the nukes.” The big boss pauses near my door, then adds, “Give O’Malley an hour. If he doesn’t give us a location, put her finger in a box and messenger it to him.”
The door handle turns and before I can roll away, wood smacks me in the nose.
While I blink the stars away, a Charles Manson type twists his huge handlebar mustache and stares down at me. “Listening at the door? How clever. If you’re so smart, you know I can’t possibly let you live.”
My head bobs and I swallow hard. “Can I at least have a last meal? Steak and potatoes? A Big Mac and a coke? Buffalo wings with blue cheese?”
His laugh doesn’t reach his soulless eyes. “Brave, I like that. Not at all like the spoiled brat I expected. But out here in the sticks, we have no Door Dash. What else would you like?”
“Knowledge. I know my father reneged on your deal, but I never learned why.”
Mack chuckles and twists the long ends of his facial hair. “I believe he found out our intent and lost his spine. The only way to a new world order is to wipe out the old.”
“No one will survive a nuclear winter.”
“Lies, made up by the elite. In a few years, scientists will figure out how to clean it up.”
My God, the man is delusional. “I suppose you’re right. I mean, they lied about global warming.”
“Exactly my dear. And the missiles I bought are no doubt old. At best, one might destroy a city, but that’s why we purchased three.”What a moron. The government disposes of old weapons for a reason. The fuel is old, and the electronics are ancient.
“Excellent idea. Redundancy is always a wise plan.”
“Too bad I must kill you, but if you cooperate, I will kill you mid-orgasm.” He tugs up on his jeans and I hold back my gag reflex until he shuts the door.
Hissing out my breath, I fall on the mattress, kick off my shoes, and use my toes to retrieve the knife. It’s been years since I practiced sawing through binds behind my back and unlike riding a bike, does not come easy. When I finally free myself, the crickets have slowed their tune. The sun will be coming up soon.
The tip of the blade near the strike plate, I push the lock lever into the socket and crack open the door. Arms crossed over his chest in a kitchen chair, one dude sleeps. Down the hall, Mack snores on a mattress, his laptop at his side. The second bedroom has a guy asleep on a cot, but the last ORA member must be outside.
Fuck. The ancient wood creaks under foot and Mack shouts. While I turn, he raises his long knife in the air. Before he can strike, I jump down and slide across the floor. Hooking one foot behind his leg, I stomp my heel and snap his kneecap. Then, I race into the kitchen, grab Sleeping Beauty’s gun, and start firing.
Behind me, a pistol cocks and I raise my weapon.
