Great. There are at least two, and they sound like they dislike each other. Or at least are vying for control.
“How long should she be knocked out?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. Are you worried about the girl?” Is that the man I spoke with on Ayla’s back porch?
“I don’t want her dead.”
“Are you suddenly developing a conscience, old man?”
“She’s bait.”
The hell I’ll be—I know what happens to bait. Besides, the only person I could be bait for is Liam, right? And I’ll make sure he’s not hurt again. His family needs him.
The car comes to a jarring halt, and I allow my body to be thrown forward with it, not fighting to brace since that would tip off my captors that I’m awake, and look around the space. I need a weapon. The ballpoint pen in my pocket will only work if I need to write out a chemical formula and I doubt that’s much of a threat to these men.
“Shut the fuck up. I’m tired of your commentary.”
I know that voice. Or I’ve heard it. But I have no clue where. Home? Work? I haven’t gone anywhere else lately.
“Look, I’m not dealing with your shit. Let’s go.”
“Or what?”
“Or I kill her… if she’s not already dead. And I’ll frame you so fast your head spins.”
“I’m the one?—”
A gun racks. Or that’s what the sound reminds me of.
“You’re the one what? Who’s in control? That’s rich. Now drive. And shut the fuck up.”
Two homicidal pricks. Neither with any regard for me or each other.
The car slides forward but not enough my body would’ve been thrown.
The only weapon I have now is my mind. In a lab, I’d go toe-to-toe with either of them. But outsmarting two maniacs is a battle where brains don’t factor in.
I’m afraid no matter what, I’m going to get hurt.
Liam
Fitz drives. I ride shotgun, thumbs flying over the screen as I watch my fuckface father drive south. He left Denver at least thirty minutes ahead of me and is in Colorado Springs, heading west before we escape the suburbs.
He’s a dumb fuck… I have that going for me.
He’s also a heartless fuck, which is my bigger concern.
His phone location grinds to a halt twice in rapid succession. There are a few restaurants nearby, but no indication of anything that would cause a stop. The area is populated with tons of shops and restaurants. It’s not a place you’d take an incapacitated woman. Now, if they’ve already dumped her bo?—
I will not think like that. I cannot think like that.
She will be okay.
And those two fuckers will pay.
Because if she’s not, they’ll pay in flesh. And I don’t mean apound of fleshlike Shakespeare did. I mean in the way that I willslice into it, peel it back from the muscle below, twine it to a skewer, and roast it to fill their nostrils as they wail.
That is, until I end them both and their blood coats my skin. But that will be after pain dances upon each nerve ending and fear pools so deeply in their minds that it would be a mercy to end it.
