Vengeful Bounty (16 page)

I breathed in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“I'll sleep on it,” I finally said.

Albert looked as if I'd just told him he'd won a million dollars.

“Thank you, Mina!” he said, kissing my hand.

I tried not to recoil too quickly. It would be a lot easier in a couple of days, on the phone, during the bright and clear afternoon hours, to explain to him a few things: one, that I wasn't a reporter. Two, that I didn't like sushi. And three, that I was getting over a relationship and needed time before bouncing into a new one. Perhaps, given a few months of no contact, Mom would've broken up with Adrian, and Albert would've found someone new.

A couple days would also give me plenty of time to change my phone number and not tell my mother.

The food came, and everyone (besides me) ate kings' portions. I picked at my California rolls and chewed on some onions, while Adrian and Mom talked about their exotic wedding plans in an old German cathedral. Poor Adrian probably didn't realize that Mom would probably melt if she walked into a church, sort of like vampires when crucifixes were shoved onto their flesh.

I giggled quietly, imagining my mother bursting into flames and screaming in her smoking wedding gown after getting too close to the holy water.

“What's so funny, darling?” Mom said, her eyes droopy from too much drink.

“Oh, nothing. I just think it's cute how in love you two are.”

Adrian had his arm entwined with Lucille's, and she was nearly sitting in his lap. Pitiful Albert had remained stock still in his chair, giving hopeful little glances at me all throughout the meal. I hadn't returned any of them. Karma was going to get my mother back dearly for all this.

After all plates were taken up, and the restaurant chatter died down as patrons went home, I pushed back my chair.

“Well, I'd better get going, Mom,” I said.

Albert rushed to stand up and take my hand. Gulping down my feminist pride, I let him help me out of my seat, old degenerate woman that I was, and give the back of my hand yet another smooch. I was going to have a permanent German-man mouth-mark on that spot after tonight.

“Pleasure to have met you, Mina,” he said.

“Yes, pleasure,” said Adrian, whose leg was now wrapped around Mom's. It was like watching the next world record take place for The Most Entwined Two Bodies on the Planet contest. “Hope to be seeing you soon!”

“Same to both of you,” I said, unable to stop a yawn. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Excuse me!”

“Byyyye, Mina!” Mom sang. Then she emitted a piercing giggle as Adrian kissed underneath her ear. “Thanks for meeting with us, dear!”

“May I walk you out?” Albert asked quietly, his eyes begging for me to say yes.

I just couldn't. Couldn't keep on the mask one more minute. Too tired.

“Oh, that won't be necessary,” I said as nicely as possible. “I'll be fine.”

He nodded, sad but dignified.

Looking back, I should've let him walk me out.

Without a doubt, I should have let him walk me out.

I might have completely avoided the next several days of torment if I'd let him be a gentleman and escort me safely to my car.

But as it happened, I didn't.

I left the sushi bar and walked into the dark.

Again, I became distracted with misery. I felt like my feet were someone else's, the air around me touching someone else's skin. It was a dream.

When I turned onto the dimly lit street, it seemed even more quiet and ominous than before.

I snapped out of my haze. I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed. Slowing down my pace, I gulped. I was definitely being followed.

The pointed nose of a laser gun pressed into my back.

“Now, don't make a sound,” said a man's voice. “Show me your hands are empty.”

I dropped my keys, opening up my hands and holding them a short distance from my thighs.

“I'm not armed,” I said, wishing—while cursing myself—that I had been. The one night I decide not to pack my gun. “You from the hotel?”

“Why how'd you guess?”

I shrugged. “Luck o' the Irish.”

A black hover car with dark tinted windows pulled up next to me, and another man, in a suit and sunshades, also with a gun, hopped out of the front seat. He quickly looked both ways down the street then opened the back door—apparently for my captor and me to get in. I didn't move. I'd try to stall until I had a plan. Unfortunately, since my back was to him, and the other guy was armed, I didn't have many ideas.

“This is incredibly illegal, you realize,” I said. “You could go to jail for it.”

“I'm willing to take the risk.”

“I guess you don't know who I am,” I said, silently praising the Powers that Be that I'd left all my identification in my car if these goofballs didn't know who I was.

“We don't know your name, but the boss recognized your picture right away. He'd ordered us to take snapshots of any attractive redhead in town. He was looking for one in particular. Turns out, it was you. He's had everyone on lookout since. And personally,”—he breathed into my ear—”I'm glad it was someone so sexy. I've kept your picture by my bed at night for a little personal inspiration.”

“How sweet.” A creepy sensation crawled up my neck. I had a big hunch about who their boss was. “I'm always glad to be an inspiration.”

“Come with me, please,” said the man, pushing the gun to my back, leading me toward the vehicle. “The boss'll be so happy to see you again.”

18

Another man sat in the backseat, waiting for me.

Great. There were four of them. A girl with no weapon didn't have very good odds of going against four armed thugs, even if that girl was Mina Maxwell.

How could I have been so
stupid
?

I'd broken three of the major rules of staying safe at night.

1. I'd parked in the dark, away from lights and other people.
   
2. I'd walked out alone.
   
3. I'd been daydreaming about how miserable I was thanks to Damon and hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings.
   

We started driving away from the badly lit street and onto heavily trafficked roads. Dad was going to kill me, provided I got out of this alive. The vehicle smelled of stale cigars, the warm leather seats creaking as the kidnapper in the front passenger seat reached over to strap himself in. The man who'd earlier held the gun against my back now poked it under my ribs. I stayed stock still, just in case he happened to be trigger-happy. I studied his face in the dim light of the streetlamps. He had no outstanding features, except for the jagged little scar on his nose.

All four men wore practically the same dark suit, their dark hair closely cropped, their eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses. Why was it that packs of cronies all looked alike? Did they follow some flock mentality, even when it came to getting dressed in the morning or going to the barber? I imagined all of them holding hands, skipping toward the Ray-Ban kiosk in the mall, pointing to the latest upgrade of shades, shrieking, “I'll take those, please!”

Hey, you have to laugh in impossibly shitty situations like the one I was in, or you'll freeze up or cry. And then the bad guys know they have an advantage. Better to stay loose and light. Believe me, you can find humor in just about anything if you try.

“Where'd you get that scar?” I asked the man with the jabbing gun. “Try to French kiss a badger?”

He scowled. “Shut the hell up.”

I sensed movement beside me. I stared forward, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man to my left was digging in a rather large brown bag. Whatever he was doing, I didn't like it.

“So how exactly do you know you have the right person?” I asked. “You took a picture. So what? I could have a twin. Plus, the camera adds 10 pounds, doesn't it? At least, that's what I was told.”

“Boss was adamant it was you,” said Mr. Gun. “He swore on his life, actually. Now shut your mouth like I told you to.”

“So! Where are we going?” I asked, nonchalantly, as if I got kidnapped every day.

“You'll see,” he said. “Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Hold still.”

Suddenly the man to my left threw his arm around my neck, and I found myself gasping for air as the crook of his elbow squeezed down against my windpipe. I grabbed at his arm, digging my nails into flesh. I felt him flinch in pain, but he held firm—the man was as strong as an ox! Though he kept his gun pointed at my head, Mr. Gun seemed delighted at my struggle, even licked his lips. Maybe he really
had
tried to make out with a badger, the perv.

I could feel the blood pounding in my ears and knew my face must've been a really interesting shade of purple by then. Little black spots danced in front of my eyes. My lungs felt on fire. I tried to call out for him to stop, but all that came out of my clenched teeth was:

“
Grrrg!
”

Just when I thought I was about to see the mythical white light and float on off to heaven, a cool, moist cloth covered my mouth. The strangler released just enough on my throat so that I could breathe in. When I took a gasping breath, I tasted medicinal fumes. My world swirled madly and then went black.

* * *

I blinked, trying to get the blurry room into focus. It was like trying to see underwater. I lifted my hands and rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyelids. Blinking rapidly, the fuzzy forms took sharp shape.

“Oh, great,” I said, my mouth going dry.

I didn't know if it was a reaction to the sedative or not, but my I felt little trembles run down my body.

“We meet again, little flower,” said Roberto.

Only he didn't look like he did that night at the club,
or
in my nightmares. He wore blue doctors' scrubs with a stethoscope draped around his neck. His dark hair was slicked back. Little golden spectacles rested on his nose. He took them off and put them in his pocket. Smiling at me like a tiger that had finally cornered his elusive prey, he approached the mattress I lay on—or rather, was chained to.

A leg shackle connected my right foot to a rail underneath the propped-up hospital bed. The walls were tiled a pale shade of green. A silver tray with syringes, cotton balls, and—holy crap—a speculum, rested against the wall. The room smelled of lemony disinfectant. I had a feeling I was going to have trouble drinking tea with lemon in it for quite a while after this delightful experience.

“Tell me,” Roberto said, putting a hand on my bare leg. “What is your name?”

Then I realized it—I was completely naked.

“I'll tell you that when you give me back my clothes,” I said, more than a little mortified.

He breathed out a laugh, reached under the bed and pulled out a folded blanket. Draping it across my waist, he smiled.

“Not good enough,” I said, covering my breasts with my arms.

“I have to say, you were quite clever that night,” he said. “I didn't see that coming.”

“Few do.”

“Tell me your name.”

“Nope.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Some sort of angel of destruction, then? A nameless goddess? You had no identification on you when my men captured you. Do you always make it a habit to go without ID?”

“Sure,” I said. “What do angels of destruction need ID's for?”

“You got lucky,” he said, his smile fading. “If I had known your name, I would have found you sooner.”

“What do you want from me, Roberto? If you want revenge, then just get it over with. Kill me. Justice served.”

“Oh, but then your charms would go unused, and you have such a rare beauty about you that many customers would surely pay in the millions to own you. Do you see that camera?” He pointed to the top of the metal sliding door directly behind him. “That will watch your every move and stream it to me. When I leave here, there will be a guard watching the door at all times as an extra precaution. You will stay here until the time is right, and then, my precious flower, you will be sold to the highest bidder.”

“If you think I'm going to go along and do this without a fight, you're dead wrong. You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“Oh, but I was counting on that.” He pulled a tiny, hand-held walkie-talkie from his pocket. The device was slender, clear, and triangular shaped, and he held it up to his mouth as he spoke into it, “Stefan, would you please come in?”

The door slid open and in walked Mr. Gun. His sunglasses were gone now, revealing a set of brown, beady eyes. He grinned.

“Hi, Stefan,” I said. “How's it going?”

“Just fine,” he said.

He walked over to the metal table and took a syringe from it. A needle. Why did it have to be a needle? I tried not to display the anxiety that crept up my spine.

“No struggling, please,” Roberto said to me, “or you'll make it harder on both of us.”

I stayed still, my mind working, trying to figure out a way out of this. I was clearly in a basement of some sort, and judging from Roberto's outfit, I had a dreadful hunch where we were.

“Roberto, are we in a hospital?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. My eyes met his. “I have full authority to be here. There is a doctor I paid off. I'm not going to tell you her name, though, because then you might get nasty and tell someone if you escape.”

Stefan chuckled, apparently thinking the idea of my escaping was a hilarious joke. He tied a rubber tourniquet around my left arm.

Don't panic! Don't panic! Needles aren't fatal—you'll live!

Oh, if I did by chance find out what hospital I was in, and better yet, what bimbo doctor he paid off to let him traipse around here like some medical god, there would be hell to pay.

I felt a sharp little pinch as the needle went into the crook of my arm. I didn't look. It was always better if I didn't look. The sight of my blood being sucked into vials always made me queasy, and my dinner was already dangerously close to spewing out of my mouth. My leg started to tremble; my body had to release the anxiety somehow if I wasn't going to cry or throw a fit.

“Good girl,” Roberto said, watching my arm. “Merely a routine test, you see, to make sure you don't have any sorts of diseases. We guarantee all our flowers' petals are clean to our buyers.”

A head rush dizzied me as Stefan took the vial of my blood and placed it on the tray. He returned with a tiny pink pill not even the size of my pinky nail.

“LSD Plus is our drug of choice,” Roberto said, his Italian accent growing more irritating by the second. “A few days of this, and not only will you be completely malleable, but you'll also be a full addict.”

LSD Plus was one of those new hybrid inventions made by the dirty drug manufacturers and distributed by their devilish dealers—“Jellyfish” by bounty hunter terms, for the beautiful allure and deathly sting that drugs have. It gave its user a psychedelic high, much like regular LSD did for everybody in the 1960's. Famed killer and mastermind Charles Manson had used it to manipulate the minds of his followers. The “Plus” that had recently been added made for a more addictive quality, and also a touch of a narcotic.

I tried to hide my smile. The vaccine against LSD Plus was even newer than the drug, very expensive and, some would say, dangerous in its experimental stages. My father was friends with one of the scientists who created it and vouched for its safety and importance. He insisted I be vaccinated against it, as it was a powerful drug that many men used as a date rape drug. Worried for his little girl, he wanted to know that I was safe against its effects.

Well, now we were going to find out.

I opened my mouth without a fight, and Stefan placed the pill on my tongue. It dissolved like tasteless, powdery candy.

I'd pull off this ruse. I'd take their drugs, let them poke and prod me, and just when they thought they had me good and defenseless, I'd—well, I'd think of something. From the looks of it, I had some time to think.

Roberto cupped my breast and leaned in for a full-mouth-and-tongue kiss. I lay against my pillow, closing my eyes, trying not to worry about Rogue, trying not to think about my trip to Oklahoma City, trying not to feel the panic my father and brother would feel when they realized I was gone.

When I opened my eyes, Roberto had taken a step back from the bed. Stefan now stood at the foot of it with the dreaded speculum in his hands.

“One more area we need to check for cleanliness,” Roberto said. “Just relax.”

It truly would only be worse if I struggled. Best not to tense up. It'd be less painful that way. I let out a long, weary breath.

As Stefan approached, lifting the blanket and pushing apart my legs, I closed my eyes and imagined a Chess board.

First move: rook's pawn to A4.

Opponent's move: knight's pawn to G6.

Second move—

I flinched from the cold metal. The least these pricks could've done was warm the blasted instrument up.

Relax, Mina. Relax.

Second move: rook to A3.

Opponent's second move: knight to F6.

Stefan's breathing grew heavy, and at the sound of it, something snapped in my emotions. I placed my hands behind my head and tapped my left foot against the cold sheets of the mattress.

“Enjoy it,” I said, gritting my teeth, trying to hang on to the image of the game board in my head. “Enjoy every minute of it. Because when I get out of here, you won't have any fingers left to hold your dick in your hands, much less a speculum.”

Stefan turned to Roberto. Both men laughed.

How cute.

They didn't know I was serious.

Third move: rook to E3.