by Rachel Rust
“You were at McNally’s?”
My heart raced and I took a full step backwards. “How’d you know about McNally’s?”
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. She had messed up in mentioning the old shop—the slip-up was all over her face.
“Do you know where Victor is?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. That’s the honest truth. If I did, I’d do whatever I could to help find him.”
I took another step back. “And Leon?”
“I haven’t heard from him all night, but he’d never do anything to harm Victor.”
“But he did.”
“You must’ve seen it wrong,” she said. “Leon’s always been good to Victor and Mason and me. He’s one of the good guys, and he’s friends with Ed—” Her eyes widened again as her lips pursed shut.
“Ed? Who’s Ed?”
No answer.
“Eduardo Martinez?” I asked.
She lurched forward. “Where’d you hear that name?”
“Do you know him? Is he The Barber?”
“Where’d you hear about Martinez?” she demanded. Her eyes scanned the neighborhood, then zeroed in on mine. “Go back to your brother. Stay there. Don’t talk to anyone else tonight, and I mean anyone. Got it? If you do that then maybe you’ll get through the night without screwing things up even more than you already have.”
She stepped back and slammed the door in my face.
I was tempted to pound on the door and barrage her with never-ending questions about Leon, Victor, and The Barber. First and foremost, why the hell did she know anything about McNally’s? Most bathrobe-wearing moms didn’t know about drug kingpins. And how did she know I had a brother? Before ringing her doorbell, I had thought getting more information would be helpful in sorting out the night’s events. But I had been wrong. Things were now more confusing than ever.
My feet shuffled down the walkway. My car was right in front of me. I got in and the smell of it—cheap leather mixed with a strawberry air fresher—relaxed my muscles a bit. A reminder that a normal world still existed.
I put the key in the ignition. The car didn’t start. There was no noise at all. I tried again. And a third time. A fourth.
Nothing.
“Son of a bitch.” I looked all around, waiting for Krissy’s blue sedan. Or worse—Leon.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an unknown number. The area code was 605, which meant it was local. I ignored the call for fear of whoever might be on the other end. No one left a message. The phone’s screen went black. I stared at my reflection in it, noticing dark bags under my eyes. Concealer would definitely be needed before schlepping my ass into school in a handful of hours to turn in a half-finished assignment.
My phone buzzed again and the screen lit up, showing Josh’s name. I answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Natalie? Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m…” Scared. Confused. Exhausted. “I’m fine.”
“Brody just tried calling you but you didn’t pick up,” he said. “We’re just wondering what happened with the police. Are you still at the station?”
My eyes closed. “No. I, um, I found Victor’s cousin and just dropped him off at their house, which is where my car is parked, but it won’t start.”
Josh’s voice became muffled, talking in the background to Brody. “Hang tight, we’ll come get you and take a look.”
“No, don’t come here, it’s not—”
He hung up.
“—safe.”
Chapter Twenty
It took less than fifteen minutes for Josh’s monstrosity of a car to appear around the corner. It parked along the curb across the street. Brody got out of the driver’s seat and walked toward me. I got out to meet him.
“Hi, where’s Josh?”
Brody’s lips formed a hard line. “He had a little too much tonight and passed out on the couch before we were gonna leave, so I left him at Kyle’s.” Brody looked down the block. “Where’s my car?”
Shit. “It’s about a mile from here, parked in a parking lot. I had to leave it. Long story, but it’s safe. Sorry.”
“That’s all right. So, what’s wrong with your car?”
“I don’t know, it won’t start.”
“Pop the hood.”
After the hood went up, I stood to the side as Brody leaned forward, eyes canvassing the engine. Everything looked normal to me, which was to say everything looked complicated as hell and I wouldn’t have the first damn clue as to anything being amiss.
“See anything?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Do you know anything about cars?” I asked.
He smiled. “Not really, but I know you’re supposed to pop the hood and look things over.”
I forced a smile, wishing he had dragged Josh with him. Josh wasn’t overly mechanical, but with a temperamental set of wheels, he at least had a basic knowledge of keeping cars running.
Brody touched a few things, attempted to tighten a couple things, and I couldn’t help but think that Victor would know what to do. If Victor had been here, my car would’ve been up and running by now. My stomach tightened…out of fear for Victor, out of regret for leaving him at McNally’s, and out of wishing he was simply standing alongside me. But it was just me. Me and Brody the clueless mechanic. His hair didn’t look so hot anymore.
“Could be a dead battery,” I said. “Maybe it needs to be jumped.”
Brody stepped back and scratched the back of his head.
“Do you know how to do that?” I asked.
He looked at me. “Do you?”
I shook my head, clamping my mouth shut before demanding to know why he had even bothered coming by if he couldn’t fix my car. Hell, even Kyle might have been more of a help.
“Well, let’s take Josh’s car and I’ll show you where your car is,” I said.
“All right.”
We climbed into the Barracuda. Its seats were deep, the black vinyl slick. I hated every inch of it. It had been nearly a year since I rode in it last, and that had only been out of necessity after Sophia’s car was t-boned by an old lady in a Buick. Josh had been the only person we could get a hold of for a ride home. Sophia had been more than happy to accept his ride, sitting beside him in the front seat, flirting all the way back to our house. Meanwhile, I had been relegated to the backseat, trying not to think about the activities in which Josh had participated, in the very spot I had been sitting. I could only hope he wiped the seats down occasionally.
Brody started up the car. Its ugly snarl probably woke up the entire block. He drove us out of the neighborhood.
“Go south,” I said. “It’s just a few more blocks.” My stomach rumbled. I attempted to quiet the noise by pressing my hand into it, but it was too late. It was nearly four in the morning. More than four hours since Victor had bought me a soda and a cheeseburger.
Brody grinned. “Hungry?”
“Apparently.”
He reached into the backseat and pulled out a bottle of water. “There’s water. Might help a little.”
I grabbed the bottle and untwisted the cap, my chapped lips eager for liquid of any kind. I gulped down half the bottle before thanking Brody.
We went a few more blocks. “Take a left here,” I said.
As the car turned, my head was as heavy as a boulder. I leaned it against the window. I tried to lift it, but it wanted to stay there. My eyes squinted. It looked like the neighborhood where I had parked the BMW, but I couldn’t concentrate enough on the details of the streets to give any more directions. Everything looked dark and fuzzy. I lifted the water bottle to my lips again, taking a small sip.
My eyes closed.
Mason’s voice popped into my head. I went to the bus stop…this guy…a friend of Victor’s…gave me a bottle of water. My fingers around the bottle of water went weak. The bottle fell onto my lap and water poured out over my knees and onto the floor like a
small waterfall. My body was too sluggish to react to the cold, wet sensation.
“You.”
“What?” Brody asked.
“Mason.”
“What about him?”
“I didn’t give you an address.” I paused for a long time, gaining the strength to say more. “How’d you know where to find me?”
Brody didn’t answer.
My eyes drooped. “You…” My jaw would no longer cooperate, too heavy and sluggish to make any more words.
Brody stopped the car in the middle of the street. He didn’t move and didn’t speak. My eyes concentrated on the silver handle of the car door. With careful coordination between my sleepy mind and listless muscles, I managed to unlatch the door. I slid out of the car, landing with my knees on the road. Brody sat still, hands on the steering wheel, watching with a blank face as I scooted away from the car on my butt.
I rolled over onto my stomach to crawl, my legs too weak for standing. The muscles in my body fought every command my brain sent out. As if gravity had increased, the weight of my own body became too much to bear. Before I could reach the curb, I laid my cheek against the cold asphalt. Eyes closed, the sound of the wind faded. My entire body faded.
Footsteps came closer. Hands grabbed my upper arms, forcing me to roll over and sit up. My eyes flickered open to see Brody’s blue eyes staring back. He slipped one arm under mine, another under my legs, then lifted me up and carried me.
He laid me back down. But not on asphalt. Something hard, but with scratchy carpet. Before I closed my eyes again, Brody shut the trunk.
Chapter Twenty-One
When I came to, the entire length of the right side of my body stung from cold. I was slumped onto my side with a hard surface pressing up under me. My legs barely moved. My arms didn’t move at all.
I drew in a deep breath. It was damp and musty and made me cough. I lifted my cheek off the cold surface and forced my eyes open a crack. At first there was just a gray haze as my eyes adjusted. Then they made out gray concrete walls. The room was small with a single exposed bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling.
I coughed again and tried to sit up, but my arms were tied behind my back, unable to support me as I moved. Duct tape around my ankles kept my legs from being much use. After a few awkward maneuvers, I managed to sit up on my right hip, legs bent off to my left.
My eyesight grew clearer. A shuffling to my right made my heart skip. My head spun in the direction of the sound and my gaze connected with a brown pair of eyes fringed with heavy black lashes.
Victor was seated along the adjacent wall, not more than ten feet from me. Blood covered the right side of his face, crusted into his hair line and his eyebrow. Duct tape bound his arms and legs like mine. And a piece of a tape had also been slapped across his mouth. Thankfully, I had not had that treatment yet.
“Are you…” I whispered, but withdrew my words as his head began quickly shaking.
His eyes pointed to the wall across from me. In the far corner of the room was a doorway. I could only make out two steps before the rest of the stairs disappeared from sight. We were in a basement.
With my eyes wearily watching the stairs and my ears listening for any footsteps, I began scooting on my hip toward Victor. Using my bound legs like a landlocked mermaid, closing the ten feet between us was surprisingly easy.
He looked even worse up close. There was a gash over his right temple, which clearly needed stitches, thanks to the butt of Leon’s gun. His left eye was also slightly swollen, with a bruised cheekbone under it. There was another smaller gash under his chin. He had become someone’s punching bag, but, thankfully, he had no visible marks from The Barber’s straight razor. His eyes stayed on my face as I scanned his wounds.
“You need to get out of here and see a doctor,” I whispered. “Come on, our limo’s waiting out front.”
His good eye creased with a strained smiled.
Leaning a shoulder against the wall, I bent my ankles so that the rubber sole of my Converse grabbed the concrete. I shimmed up the wall, until I stood in a somewhat-upright position. I turned my back to Victor, ignoring the fact that my ass was right in his face. My fingers flailed around until they bumped his chin. The duct tape was flat against his skin. I picked at a corner until it gave way enough for my fingertips to grab a hold. I shuffled forward, pulling the tape with me. Eventually, the tape peeled away from his mouth.
I sat back down next to him.
He stretched his jaw and lips a few times, then the movements gave way to a small grin. “You really need to stop following me.”
“Shut up,” I replied. “I found Mason.”
“You did? How?”
“Krissy sent me a text telling me where to pick him up.” I watched his face for any reaction to his so-called friend having known about Mason’s whereabouts, but there wasn’t much change. Although, with all the swelling it was difficult to see his facial expressions.
“Is Mason okay?” Victor asked.
I nodded. “He’s back home with your aunt, who’s not really your aunt.”
Victor looked away. “No.”
“Where are we?” I asked, deciding now was not the time to question all his lies. There were far more important tasks at hand. Like survival.
“Little Bobby’s house, I think,” Victor said. “Did you see anything before they brought you here?”
“No, I don’t remember anything. I think I was drugged. It was Brody, he brought me here. He’s behind all this somehow.”
“I know.”
“You know? How long have you known? You’re the one who told me to stay with him and Josh back at Kyle’s. Why would you tell me to do that if—”
“I didn’t know then. I only found out about his involvement since I’ve been down here.”
“What about Krissy?” I asked. “I saw her with one of the guys from Little Bobby’s house, the one with the long brown hair, and he was at McNally’s too. Why was she with him? Are you sure she’s not The Barber?”
Victor didn’t respond, too busy studying a small window up near the ceiling
“Why did Brody bring me here?” I asked.
Victor didn’t answer. I nudged him. Still no reply.
Upstairs, voices began chatting.
“Shhh,” Victor whispered.
We hunched together, listening.
“Why did they bring me here?” I asked again.
Victor stared into my eyes, and the concern in his was intense. His defiance in not giving me an answer made my skin crawl. Once again, he knew more than he wanted to tell me.
The voices grew louder. I shimmied back up to a standing position, turned around and placed the duct tape across Victor’s mouth. Someone began walking down the stairs. I hopped over to my original spot and sat back down.
Brody appeared at the bottom of the steps. He smiled. “Look at us here! It’s like a Kennedy High reunion!” He knelt down in front of me and patted my knee. “How’s that assignment coming? I meant it when I said it sucked that you were paired with Victor. The guy’s nothin’ but trouble. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into this.”
“Screw you,” I said.
He smirked, palms up. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I told you to ask Kellen for a new partner. I even left a note on your car. Hell, I told you right to your face to go home tonight when I saw you at Kyle’s. That was your easy out. You shoulda taken it when you had the chance. I was looking out for you. You didn’t deserve to be stuck with a street trash partner.”
A dry chuckle rose from my throat as I looked around at the dreary room. “And I deserve to be here?”
All amusement left Brody’s face. “You chose to help him.”
“But why am I really here? What do you want from me?”
Brody peered over at Victor, who met his gaze with dead eyes. “Well, your pal Victor over there has some explaining to do. He’s gone and found himself a new job, working for someone new, and well, that just doesn’t fly
for us.”
“Us? Who’s us?”
Brody grinned. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You’re not here to do any thinking.”
“Then why am I here?”
“We need information, and Victor, as it turns out, has very few soft spots. Mason didn’t work. But boy oh boy, you shoulda seen the look on his face when we mentioned your name. His eyes went wide, his nostrils flared.” Brody looked from Victor to me. “I think you have an admirer, Natalie.”
“That’s why you let Mason go, because you wanted me instead?” I asked.
Brody slow clapped.
“But I still don’t understand why I’m here. I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”
“You don’t have to know anything,” he said, then looked back over at Victor. “Who are you selling for now?”
Victor didn’t reply in any way. No grunts. No movements.
Brody scanned my face. He ran a finger down my right cheek before backhanding me across the face. Stinging pain radiated throughout the whole side of my face as my body slumped to the side. I stared down at the concrete, finally understanding my role in that basement. I was nothing more than a piñata to smack around. If Victor didn’t answer their questions, I was going to pay the price.
I sat up straight and looked at Victor. His face was nearly as red as the dried blood. The muscles in his arms were flexed, no doubt struggling against the duct tape on his wrists.
Brody walked over and ripped the tape away from his mouth.
“You son of a bitch!” Victor roared.
Brody laughed. “You’re talking already. I told him Natalie would work. He didn’t believe me, but looks like I was right.”
“Told who? Are you working for The Barber?” I asked Brody.
Victor’s eyes begged me not to speak, not to get involved.
Brody looked amused by my question. “You really have no clue what mess you’re in, do you? Even if I told you who I was working for, what difference would it make? Are you gonna do something about it personally? No, I don’t think so, so why don’t you just sit there and keep your pretty mouth shut.”
He still had the piece of duct tape in his hand, which would be perfect for shutting me up. So I stayed quiet. The musky air of the basement was beginning to make my sinuses and nose stuffy. The thought of duct tape across my mouth nearly made me panic in suffocation.
