Page 53 of Thug

I wondered if Price knew where I was, and if so, what my fate would ultimately be. I hated the thought of him knowing I’d been abducted, tossed into the trunk of a car, and driven to a location thirty minutes from the outskirts of town.

My head had remained covered the entire time, preventing me from seeing the faces of my abductors. On the few occasions I’d been given something to drink, the hood was removed from someone standing behind me, and a bottle of water was raised to my mouth.

I did know one of the two men had a snake tattoo on his left forearm and the word TIME tattooed on his left knuckles.

I wondered how much time had passed, and what their plan was. I feared they’d step up their game once whoever was in charge showed up. It was apparent the two men overseeing my welfare weren’t in charge of anything. So far, I’d been asked who else knew about Randall being missing, and if I knew where he was hiding. There had been no torture beyond the mental anguish that came naturally from being blindfolded and kidnapped. It was almost as if they were waiting on instructions from someone else.

A door opened and closed. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps. As they came closer, I identified them as No Name’s. He dragged his feet when he walked, and Tattoo didn’t.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

I licked my chapped lips. “I am.”

Footsteps. The sound of a refrigerator door opening. A bottle cap being twisted from a bottle. More footsteps. My hood was removed.

I tilted my head back and sipped the cool water.

Through the bottom of my blindfold, I saw a motorcycle’s chrome exhaust. I lifted my chin further and feigned a cough. My blindfold loosened a little more.

I tilted my head back, again. “Another drink, please?”

I drank the water, taking time to survey everything I could see through the sliver of an opening between the blindfold and my cheek.

I was in a garage. The overhead door was open. The sun was beginning to peek over the tops of the distant mountains. It was morning. I tilted my head to the left. Thirty feet away, parked in the driveway, sat a run-down Ford truck. I tilted my head to the right.

The bottle was yanked away. Water sloshed everywhere.

“What the fuck are you doing?” No Name snarled.

He cinched the blindfold tight and slammed the hood over my head in such a fit that he nearly knocked the chair over. I heard the water bottle crash against something in the distance.

“You’re not getting away,” he warned. “Here in a little bit, you’re either going to tell us what you know, or we’re going to bury your little ass in the desert. Think about that for a little bit.”

He shuffled across the garage floor.

“Last thing we need’s the fuckin’ cops nosing around,” he muttered.

I heard a door open and then slam closed.

The humming from the refrigerator in the distance was all that remained. Hypnotized by the sound, I thought about what No Name said.

He didn’t want the cops nosing around. That meant Randall was either running from the cops or dead. Either way, they were trying to protect his whereabouts. He was in one of two places. In a grave or somewhere far away from Marana.

My mind raced.

I couldn’t tell them anything beyond McKenzie asking me if I knew who Randall was. That wouldn’t satisfy them. It would only put McKenzie in jeopardy.

What if Price was involved?

What if Price planted McKenzie? A ditzy-brained cutie that fed me information to see if I was able to keep my mouth shut? The ultimate test of my worth as a potential Ol’ Lady. If I revealed my sources, I was a snitch and couldn’t be trusted. If I stood my ground and let them complete their sadistic exercise, I was suitable enough to be accepted into the tight-knit group of Hard Eights.

Convinced I’d been kidnapped as part of a hairbrained plot to establish my worth, I grew angry at Price for devising the plan. There were many other ways he could have used to determine if I was trustworthy or not.

The door beyond the refrigerator opened. A few seconds later, it closed. Footsteps, including No Name’s, approached.

Tattoo’s voice broke the silence. “You working with the cops?” he asked.

It was time to prove my worth. I cleared my throat. “No.”