Tristan's jaw clenched, knowing these guys were going to go somewhere else and victimize more innocent girls. He wished his arms and legs were free so he could punch these monsters, beat and kick them bloody, maybe even shoot them. They needed to be wiped from the face of the earth before they hurt anyone else.
"What about the laptop?"
"With the hit on me, I want to get out as soon as possible. We don't have time to look for it now. After we get settled, I'll have someone search for it."
"What about the reporter?"
"We'll dump his body in the river on the way to the airport. By the time anyone finds it, we'll be long gone."
"Okay, boss. Whatever you say."
Tristan's blood chilled as the words "dump his body" rang in his ears, and he stifled a sob. He was too young to die. He'd been about to get Natalie back, and he'd just found Cade. It wasn't fair for his life to be over now, and he wasn't going to give up without a fight.
Driven to act on his half-baked plan, Tristan started to move his chair toward the workbench. He didn’t know how he'd reach any tools with his hands tied, but he had to try.
Gently scooting his chair a few inches toward the workbench, he was relieved that the only sound was a quiet scratch against the concrete. With no reaction from the men in the house, he shuffled the chair again, then waited but heard nothing. Emboldened, he moved closer to the workbench, little by little, proud of himself until he pushed too hard, losing his balance.
The chair toppled over backwards, and Tristan crashed to the floor. Quick reflexes allowed him to lift his head enough to avoid banging it too hard on the concrete, but the blow was enough to momentarily stun him.
He didn't have long to process his mistake, because the noise brought Pearface to the garage, and Tristan reeled, crushed by disappointment. The man's lips parted in surprise, but then he smirked.
"Guess whatever you were doing didn't quite work out for you, did it?"
Though he felt like vomiting, crying, raging, Tristan clamped his mouth shut and cast a murderous, defiant glare at his captor.
"Hey, come here and help me," Pearface called to the house.
The second man came in, and Tristan finally put a face to the voice. Tall andlanky with dark hair and thick black glasses.
"Help me move him so he can't reach anything.
As they worked together to right his chair, Glasses asked, "Should we just kill him now?"
"Yeah, probably. Fucking redheads. Seems like they always cause trouble, but they are popular with the clients."
When Glasses said, "I'll get my gun," Tristan's breath caught, and panic crushed his lungs.
He was going to die. Right here and now.
Tristan hunted wildly for any ideas to stay his execution, but static screeching in his ears and the relentless chants of 'I'm going to die'devoured all rational thought.
"Wait a minute," Pearface said suddenly.
Tristan's eyes snapped to the puffy face, praying for a reprieve, but did not expect the sneer and the sharp, cruel laugh.
"Forget the gun. I have a better idea."
"What?" Glasses asked, apparently as confused as Tristan.
"You'll see," Pearface answered, grinning evilly.
Before Tristan could process what was happening, the man took out his phone and pointed it at Tristan.
"Smile for the camera."
Chapter 20: Desperation
Cade
