“What’s the endgame here, Amy? You’re not going to want to keep her alive forever…”
“She can sit here and rot for all I care. She’s just bait for Liam. Once we have him here in headquarters, we will figure out what to do with the princess.”
“But Amy -- what if he doesn’t come? I mean, they did break up. He might not want her anymore.”
“Oh, trust me. He wants this one. He’ll do anything in his power to protect her. Little does he know that it’s all a trap. She gets to be our own, personal bobby trap… KAPOW!”
Even in my knocked out haze, Amy sounds as crazy as I had imagined. Now, it’s more unhinged. And you can tell that the guy questioning her, Mateo (I think), isn’t exactly sure he put all his trust in the right person. Amy may be powerful and connected, but there is something completely dangerous and combustible about her. Unlike Liam, she is her own worst enemy.
“Have you called him to tell her where we’ve brought her? It’s been a while since the first phone call. Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
I watch Amy’s heels click on the cement floor as she makes her way over to the man who is hanging around in the corner. From my partially closed eyes, I make out her bare arm reach over to slap his cheek and chin. There’s a loud clap as he flies backward against the brick. This was Amy completely out of control, and not even the big ol’ motorcycle gang could contain her. Part of me is impressed. The other part is completely terrified of what is about to come next.
“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that. Your job is to listen to my orders and execute them. If you want to see the last guy who dared question me, you can step out back and take a look, Mateo.” She snarls fiercely at him as if she is about to spit fire.
Mateo takes a moment to recover, reeling around slowly and pressing a hand to his sore cheek. From my limited view, I can make out the imprint of her thin, long hand on his pale skin. “All I care about is what’s owed to me, Amy. You get me that money, and you can do whatever you want to this fucking club.”
Money? Is he talking about the diamonds? Or is there something else I don’t know about behind the scenes. Liam has been open to me about the ins and outs of the club since we got together. He’s explained the whole security business and how they have moved into pimping and car snatches, but it never sounded like they made much. The restaurant was basically supplementing each of their incomes to get by.
“Liam has them. The Mafia knows he’s the one who took it. They got him on camera grabbing both the diamonds and the gemstones. If the money trail is right, he sold the diamonds, but he’s the one you should be pissed at. Liam is the one who is stealing from the club?”
What the hell is she talking about? I was with him from the start, and I never caught sight of anything but the diamonds. If he had them, they certainly weren’t around when I was. And why would he hide that from me? Something wasn’t adding up here...
“I get that. I trust you, Amy.” Mateo’s voice suddenly changes. He coos at her as he just his chin juts out slightly. She leans in and kisses him gently; the tip of her tongue sliding along his lips. His eyes close tight, savoring the moment. I watch as his hands tense and then relax by his sides as if he is too afraid to touch her.
Amy presses her body into his. Her red, form-fitting dress ruffles up against his legs and jacket as she whispers quietly into his ear, “Once we get him in, I’ll let you beat it out of him, and I’ll sit here and watch. It will be so… so hot.”
“You got it, baby. You just keep doing what I say, and we’ll celebrate tonight. Me, you, and a big bottle of champagne.” She kisses Mateo again, this time a little slower, a little shorter, before pulling away. Amy fixes her dress and steadies her posture. Without a look at Mateo or me, she saunters out the closed door, shutting it slowly behind her. In the distance, I can hear her go back to crazy Amy as she yells, “WHERE THE HELL ARE THE REST OF LIAM’S GUYS? IF ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DON’T FIND THEM IN AN HOUR, I WILL KILL YOU!”
Everything goes back to that strange calm it was the first time I was put in this room and strapped to the chair with the long white extension cord. Mateo takes a seat back in the corner and pulls out his phone as if nothing has happened. After awhile, he gets back up onto his feet and begins to walk the length of the room, his hands washing over his bald, tattooed head. I close my eyes tight and begin to count.
It’s been about four hours since I’ve woken up. I know this only because I’ve counted down each and every minute since I got here. It’s a little trick my dad used to tell me when I complained about working in the back of the hot ice cream truck each summer. Count to sixty slowly. That’s one minute. If you can get through one minute, then you can get through another.
I’ve counted all 14,400 seconds that have passed, waiting, longing to hear Liam’s voice. But there has been nothing but radio silence. Though, I can’t tell who is more nervous about this -- Mateo, Amy, or me? No Liam meant that Amy’s plan wasn’t working out as she wanted it to. No Liam meant Mateo wasn’t going to get whatever cash he thought Liam had owed him and Amy had promised him. And no Liam meant that I was at the mercy of a total psychopath as she melted down before me.
At least Amy didn’t realize that I was awake. Part of me thinks Mateo sensed it. He continues to eye me every few seconds as he paces from corner to corner. But when Amy has left us alone to go manage the rest of the remaining Steel Saints members, he hasn’t said or done anything to me either. For a guy who threatened to kill me during our first meeting, he was starting to look like he was all talk and no action, and I was certainly okay with this.
Amy, on the other hand, meant business. When they dragged my limp, tired body in from the back of their van, they had rustled me awake just long enough to hear the biggest commotion of the day. Someone was shouting Liam’s name, screaming at Amy to get the fuck out of their headquarters. My stomach sank realizing what Amy was going to do next. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds as loudly as I could, but no matter how much my thoughts shouted back, I could not block out the sound of gunfire and the sound of a body dropping lifeless to the floor.
“Mop him up,” Amy commanded to a few others standing by in awe. I peaked for a second to see the gun she clutched to her chest. This wasn’t the first time she had taken someone’s life. No one could be that unphased by the experience. The men left in the headquarters had absolutely no choice but to follow her orders. The one person who spoke out was proof of what happened when you went against the new leader.
Still, there was some dissent. I could tell. Every hour or so, I would hear the occasional voice through the open door while Mateo was distracted. The men talked amongst themselves about crazy Amy’s coup and if they were no longer Steel Saints or if the Black Flag Mafia had taken them over as well. Amy had been their leader when she dated the president and then outed him. This may be something similar -- bloody business mergers being done by bloody women.
And me. Trapped in the middle. It was hard to try to play it calm. For one, calm wasn’t exactly my strong suit. I freak out before exams I know I’m going to pass. Acting as if I can’t hear the carnage around me during a fucking battle was taking all of my strength to just get through. But most importantly, I couldn’t help but think of my dad.
God. I worked so hard to protect him, to make sure he got the best care and medical treatment I could get him. But I failed here when I trusted that I could handle all the shit that Liam’s life threw at me. I didn’t expect that it would lead to some asshole thugs hunting down my dad in his own hospital bed. Who would? The worst I thought would happen was that I would go to prison for helping a robbery.
To his credit, Liam warned me. He told me that getting mixed up in his life would be an adventure, but he also made it clear that it would be a risk. I let that go as soon as I tasted those lips and felt his thighs against my sex. I made amends with my future when he held my hand at the hospital and bought me that emerald green dress. Loving him meant loving this too, and even now, despite the fact that I am probably seconds away from getting murdered right here in this flimsy little, metal folding chair, I can’t help but think of him and hear his voice telling me that it would be alright.
Despite our distance, I have to believe he is calling out to me, telling me to hold on. Liam is the one keeping me calm and promising me that my dad will be safe as well. It’s insane, I know, but if it gets me through another minute of this, then I am going to hold on to it until my last breath. I will die by Amy’s gun with hope in my heart that Liam is coming.
I open my eyes bit by bit, willing myself to let it happen. I stare down at my bare knees. They’re still bruised from being dragged and held down in the back of the ice cream truck. But there’s something else… small flecks of grayish white dust and paint have begun to form on the top of my leg. It sprinkles down like the first snow of winter without melting.
It’s only when I have a moment to look up without Mateo seeing me that I figure it out. Above me I see someone’s fingers curling around the metal lines of the air conditioning vent. In the darkness, I see a face. It’s shadowy, but I instantly recognize it. While it isn’t Liam, it’s the next best thing -- Jason, his second. I only met him the few times I have been to the headquarters with Liam, but I recognize that older, softer face with the long, grizzly beard and the upturned red lips.
He notices me too, his eyes darting between Mateo and me. His head shakes in Mateo’s direction as I place my head back down again. A searing pain at the back of my head almost causes me to lose it, but I keep it together. There is help on its way, and it’s directly above me. I’m going to be okay! I am going to survive.
But I couldn’t just sit here. I had to help Jason get to me. For the first time, I start to examine the room. It’s a typical office with a desk placed up against the wall with a lamp and a laptop on top. Mateo sits back down in the rolling desk chair with his back facing me. He swivels back and forth as he continues to text on his phone.
Okay. This is my shot. I have to get out of these ties. The thick cord is tight on my skin, but it’s not terribly sturdy. I remember them rushing through it, unsure of when I would wake up. They probably underestimated my strength as well, but all those years stacking boxes, cleaning out trucks, and scooping ice cream has made me much, much stronger than I look. I flex my biceps and wiggle my chest as the extension cord slides centimeter by centimeter down my chest until it’s on my hips.
With my arms almost free, I am able to turn and lift my torso up. The plastic rubs harsh on my skin as I can feel it practically rub away. I want to cry out, but I keep it in, biting my lip instead. The rope moves as a finger manages to get out and then another until the entire hand is out. Knowing I only had seconds to go until Mateo turns around, I don’t waste time untying myself.
Jason gets my attention, knocking on the metal vent softly. He points down to the desk where I spy the only weapon I’m going to get -- a pair of scissors. I nod back, swallowing hard. This is life or death, but it wasn’t going to be mine. I stand as quietly as I can and tiptoe slowly over to the scissors. I don’t look up. I don’t dare to even breathe.
I wrap my hands on the cold metal when I feel it -- a man’s breath on the back of my neck. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mateo asks quietly. I try to spin, to land the scissors into his chest, but he’s too fast for me. My back bends as his weight crashes down into me. A hand wraps around my mouth, but I bite at the skin, tasting the metallic blood on my lips.
Mateo cries out in pain, backing away from me just long enough for Jason to leap down nearby with a crash. He lands hard on his knees and hands, the shattering ceiling in pieces next to him. Mateo looks back and forth between us, me still holding on to the scissors and Jason in a pile. He pauses before charging straight at Jason, jumping directly on his back. Both men fall to the ground with me staring on helplessly.
I raise the scissors again, ready to go in. But as I start, I am stunned in place by music -- the bells of my father’s ice cream truck in the distance.