What’s with name-calling, jeez.
I thought I could get them to stop so I could send a quick text message, but no. Dumb and Dumber are freaking rule followers. Who would have thought?
I’m not sure how long we’ve been in the van, but it’s got to be bordering on close to a few hours now. I’m cramped, I’m cold, and I’m slowly realizing I’m doomed. I don’t know where we’re going or why. Just that these two are getting paid to take me to an unknown location.
Through the front window, I can see us coming up on a small city. Where are we? My question is answered a few minutes later when we pass by a sign that says El Centro.
Shit.
The van takes numerous turns until we pull up to a warehouse. There’s nobody around. The place looks deserted.
My heart rate starts to pick up as my two kidnappers exit the van and come around to the side to open the door.
“Get out,” Monica's scratchy voice demands.
I swallow hard, scared shitless of what’s going to happen when I get out of this van, but I manage to move my arms and legs and crawl out despite my body's protest.
The ground is cold as my bare feet hit the asphalt, and the terrible two don’t even give me a second to catch my bearings before they each take one of my arms and drag me to a door that’s being held open by a man holding a large gun.
The reality of my situation is getting clearer by the second and I’m trying to keep my cool. We enter the building and then go through another door where I get dragged into the largest part of the warehouse. I have to school my features, so I don’t look shocked by who I see.
A man, who has graced many of the photos I’ve taken of Emmett, is sitting behind a table centered in the room. “Bienvenido. Welcome to my home.” A creepy smile crosses his face as he greets me.
Home? Really? I look around the place. Boxes are stacked around the massive room, containing God knows what, along with multiple guards. This is anything but a home.
“Please, take a seat.” He gestures to the lone folding chair stationed a good ten yards from his table.
Richard, not so gently, pushes me in the direction of the chair and I almost trip over my own feet. I turn my head around and flip him off. He deserves it. They both do.
Laughter echoes around the room from the man at the table as I sink onto the cold, hard chair. This situation wasn’t built for comfort. It was built for the opposite.
Lucas’s words run through my mind about how these men wouldn’t hesitate to chop off my head. I have to swallow back the bile that comes up because I’m petrified, and I don’t want to do anything to provoke these men.
“What about our money?” Monica voices out. She’s fidgeting where she stands, looking at the four-armed guards and the man in the middle of the room, whom I have yet to be introduced to.
“Money? What money?” He’s acting like he doesn’t know what they're talking about.
“Don’t play stupid. Give us our money and we’ll be on our way,” Richard says, panic lacing his voice.
Good.
Maybe now he knows how I feel.
I notice he doesn’t have his gun with him. The guard at the front must have taken it before we came inside.
He doesn’t look so tough now.
A humorous chuckle leaves the man’s mouth. “I’m just kidding. Relax.” And he nods to a guard who leaves and then comes back with a small envelope.
“Five thousand. Take it.”
“That’s not what we agreed on. We were told ten grand,” Monica argues as Richard opens the envelope.
The man's face goes from happy to blank in the blink of an eye. The change is so severe, I have no doubt he’s a psychopath.
I shrink down in the seat even though I’m not the center of attention right now. I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things pop off.
Part of me is a little pissed that I’m only worth ten grand. I have a feeling that’s chump change to this guy. Monica and Dick are definitely getting the short end of the deal.
