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“Rest while you can,” the other one says. “You won’t be comfortable for long.”
Well, this has just become interesting. Somewhat off script. And promising.
Because uncomfortable is better than dead. And it probably means someone does want to talk to me. Looks like I’m not goin
g to die today after all.
I slump in my bonds.
“Hey, asshole, are you paying attention?” The ugly one grabs me by the hair—dammit, why did I let it grow?—and snaps my head back against the concrete pillar. “Answer.”
“You told me to rest while I can,” I rasp, and fuck, my throat hurts, it’s so damn dry. “Can I have some water?”
“Can I have some water?” he repeats in a high-pitched voice, waggling his brows. “Hear that, Elliott?”
“Why, is he deaf?” I watch him from under my lashes, wincing when he pulls harder on my hair. “Or maybe your Daffy Duck impersonation is beyond him. To be honest, it’s beyond me, too.”
“You goddamn son of a bitch.” He slams my head back on the pillar, then again, until the pain causes black dots to swim in my vision and my ears to ring. “Fucking smartass. You’ll regret this.”
Yeah, it happens a lot. I regret lots of things, on a daily basis.
But not this.
I open my mouth to say something that will probably earn me a proper beating, because ugly face is right, I’m a smartass, and I own it, when the other guy hauls him off me, cursing.
“Enough, Big Johnny. Get off him, or the Boss will have your ass.”
“Yeah.” Fuck, I’m dizzy, and I’m trying to swallow bile as much as my laughter. “Boss wants me alive.”
I mean, come on. Big Johnny? Are these guys for real?
Aaaand we’re back to the script. I’m tied up in an abandoned warehouse with Elliott and Big Johnny who wants to bash my head in, and we’re waiting for the boss. Could this get any cornier?
But at least I’m starting to get a feel of how things are. Study your opponent, the kidnapping manual says. Find out what they want. Figure out their weaknesses. Try not to get yourself killed by giving smartass answers.
Yeah, about that last one…
Follow the manual, Hawk. Be patient. Shut your fucking mouth and wait.
***
Wait for the boss. That was my resolution. Don’t rise to the bait when the two morons guarding you prod and poke you and kick at your legs out of boredom and lack of imagination.
Listen.
Only their conversation is boring as fuck. They’re dissing a girl who refused to put out for ugly face—is it any wonder? Just for his conversational skills, or lack thereof, she’d better steer clear—and discussing the football season, then switch to the fascinating topic of toenail fungi.
Someone kill me already.
Oh wait, I’m trying to avoid that. Kinda slipped my mind for a second. That’s how boring this is. Good thing the pain is distracting me, or I’d be asleep and missing out on all this awesome fun.
The door opens. The door closes. Dammit, I hate not being able to see who walks in behind my back. The boss, I presume? I need to know who he is. Need to know if this has to do with the Organization, the mafia, or if it’s something else completely.
Wasted enough time with these two morons already.
They move back as the steps approach me but don’t show any signs of wanting to stand at attention or anything, so now I have to assume this isn’t the boss.
Fuck.
