Page 49 of Thug

I shrugged. “Sounds like I must be dead.”

“Your current goal that’s the most important to you?”

It was an easy question to answer. It was more than a goal, it was my life’s dream. “To have this bar, kitchen included, be a success.”

He glanced around. Seeming satisfied at what he saw, he pushed his empty beer bottle toward me. “Suppose I’ll get going.” He tossed a few bills on the bar and gestured to the door behind me. “I’m going to check on the fellas. See if that guy called about delivering that new equipment.”

“Oh my God. You heard about that?” I asked. “Someone donated that stuff.”

“I’ll be damned.” He smirked. “You must be living right.”

I grinned a guilty smile. “I must be.”

He sauntered to the door, opened, it, and paused. “See you tomorrow.”

Convinced the stain was an imperfection in the countertop’s finish, I tossed the rag aside. “Thanks for the warning.”

* * *

I meandered through what was once my kitchen, stepping over the pathways that had been cut in the floor for new plumbing. After a lingering look at the disastrous mess, I set the alarm, flipped off the light, and closed the door behind me.

I pushed the key into the lock and turned it, waiting for the tell-tale clunk of the bolt going all the way into the door frame.

At the same instant the mechanism locked, I heard a noise behind me. I clutched my keys to keep them from making noise and tried to identify it.

Then, I heard it again. Someone was stepping through the gravel behind me.

In an instant, he was behind me. I could sense it.

My muscles tensed. Fear got tangled in my throat. I tried to breathe but nothing worked. I was drowning in my thoughts. I’d made a mental map of my actions, should I ever be the victim of an assault. Knee to the groin. Kick the left shin. Kick the right shin. Thumbs to the eyes. Scream to catch the attention of anyone within earshot.

None of those things happened.

Facing the door, I froze like a startled animal. “The money’s inside,” I lied, hoping for a chance to go inside and sound the alarm. Although I’d unlocked the same door a thousand times, I fumbled to turn the key. “Just a minute…I think it’s right—”

“Shut the fuck up!” He shoved me against the door. I slammed into it like a rag doll. The air shot from my lungs. My purse’s contents spilled on the ground. “One more word,” he said, pressing the barrel of a gun against the small of my back. “and I’ll blow a hole in you big enough to drive a truck through.”

Becoming the victim of a robbery or rape was unthinkable. Being shot was the worse. I wouldn’t be found until after sunrise the following day, at which time I’d undoubtedly be dead.

While I fumbled to decide who may attend my funeral, he taped my mouth and wrists without opposition. A blindfold was tied tightly over my eyes. Something was slipped over my head. Blind to my surroundings, I was led to a vehicle and tossed inside. Enveloped in darkness, I counted the seconds, hoping I could later tell detectives how far away we’d traveled. We drove so far that the numbers became jumbled. I tried to identify a distinct sound, or a voice. All I could hear was the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Convinced that in a matter of minutes I’d be raped and left for dead in the middle of the desert, I began to cry. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that I’d wept. With the tears came memories, and with them came more tears. In no time, I was a breathless blubbering mess.

Price was right. The moment had arrived.

Happy was nowhere to be found.

14

Price

Panzer poked his head through the door opening. Upon seeing me, he stepped inside. He nodded toward my desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Other than you being in here harassing me?” I licked the sugar from my fingertips. “Nothing.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“Don’t know where it is.”