Amy Maxwell & the 7 Deadly Sins (The Amy Maxwell Series Book 2)

by Heather Balog

  Beth swallows hard and I can see she is gasping for air while she chokes back a deluge of tears. For the first time ever, my heart is breaking for my sister. I had no idea she had felt so unloved, and when you realize that you’ve been used by the only person you thought loved you, well, that had to be a rough pill to swallow.

  I silently thank my lucky stars for Roger. Despite his (many) flaws, I’ve never once doubted that he loves me or the kids. I can’t imagine how it would be to live with someone and not know that somewhere deep down, they are wild for you. Not that Roger often showed me…

  “Okay, well I’m done with this touching edition of Dr. Phil.” Claudia nods toward Kevin, who until this moment, had been hovering in the corner of the room. I glance at him quickly and almost swear a look of sadness passes across his face. But then, his normal gruff expression returns and he steps toward us, all business.

  “Time to take a little trip, ladies,” he remarks with the evil grin returning. He pulls Beth to her feet and props her against the chaise that he was previously sitting on. He then flicks a switchblade, not unlike the one Jason was using in my fantasy, and begins to saw through the duct tape that is holding me to the chair.

  Claudia waves her gun around and announces, “Don’t forget about my gun. I would hate for you to meet your demise all over my expensive carpet while attempting to escape.” Her eyes are narrowed into slits as she stares my sister down. Beth is mimicking her expression with her own eyes. It’s like a showdown on one of those Real Housewives shows or something. The hatred in the room is charged and palpable.

  Kevin is staring at them while he finishes cutting my duct tape from the chair. I guess he is distracted by the possibility of a cat fight because he cuts clear through the duct tape that is binding my wrists.

  I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Play it cool, Amy. Play it cool. Pretend your wrists are still bound and hopefully he won’t even realize that he has just freed your hands up.

  Kevin shoves me toward Beth. I clasp my hands tightly together to create the illusion that they are still tied up by the duct tape. I’m not sure how my hands being free is actually going to help me right now, but it’s bound to come in handy soon, right? (Puns not intended).

  “Let’s go, shall we?” He drapes his arms over both of our shoulders. I recoil from his touch as he steers us toward the doorway. Claudia is already out the door, dark ponytail bouncing playfully from shoulder to shoulder. I stare at it for a moment, completely hypnotized by the bounce.

  I really must ask her what shampoo she uses. The one I use swears I will have a youthful shine, but I’ve yet to see that happen.

  Then I shake my head as I realize how ridiculous this thought is. Focus, Amy! Or the next time your hair is washed, it’ll be by an undertaker!

  When Claudia is about a hundred yards in front of us and basically out of earshot, Beth leans back toward our loving captor. “Can you please tell me where Jillian is? I just can’t die not knowing if she’s okay.” Her voice comes out in a strangled whisper, tears now flowing down her face freely, just not smudging her perfect make-up. She must pay out the ass for such waterproof mascara.

  I see Kevin’s face monetarily soften again and I can’t help but wonder if this guy really did care for Beth at one point in time. Then, his face hardens again and he replies gruffly, “She’s fine. I told you that. Now just walk before she flips out again.”

  I can tell that despite his show earlier in the office, he is scared of Claudia. And maybe it’s not only because she can make him a pauper; perhaps she is a little too rough with him. I saw a reality show on battered husbands once and I start to wonder if Kevin isn’t one of them. Maybe he really was looking for an escape with Beth; maybe those words he had uttered in the garden weren’t false, or a ploy to lock us in the basement. Maybe, just maybe, he could be an ally. Perhaps I can appeal to his humane side and the three of us can overpower Claudia.

  We step into the spacious garage (that may double as a helicopter landing pad) and my mouth drops open. I’m stunned as I gaze around at the collection of cars my husband could only dream about. There are classic cars and exotic cars and pricey vehicles like a Mercedes and a Lexus. My heart skips a beat thinking about taking a ride in one of them. Perhaps my final ride, but hell, I’m gonna go out in style.

  Claudia tosses Kevin a set of keys and walks toward a Chevy Impala that is conspicuously sticking out like a sore thumb in the corner of the garage. “Let’s take that one,” Claudia says while pointing at the Impala.

  My face falls. Gee, I’m not even going to get to die in style? I’m gonna go out in a Chevy? Ha! Typical Amy Maxwell.

  Kevin clicks the remote and pops the trunk of the vehicle. I’m not sure what year it is, but despite the fact that it looks well maintained, it isn’t anywhere near the same league with the rest of the vehicles in the garage. I am wondering if maybe this is the car they use for illicit activity, perhaps it’s middle class nature makes it more of a camouflage and it is less likely to get traced back to them. Just like Claudia’s gun. I shudder as I think about it. I can see it tucked into the waistband of her yoga pants. Gives Warrior pose a whole new meaning, I am thinking ironically. I step toward the backseat of the car, still making certain that I keep my wrists together.

  Maybe I can subdue Kevin as he’s driving. There’s that spot on your neck that you can press and it makes someone pass out, right? A sleeper hold or something like that? No, on second thought, that might be a bad idea. I’ll still have to deal with Claudia, and Kevin might run the car off the road. Maybe I should free Beth and we can each take one of them down.

  Claudia whirls around and glares at me. “Just where do you think you’re going?” she asks, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing, but the way you’ve been talking, I’m pretty sure it’s hell,” I retort bitterly.

  Claudia narrows her smoky eyelids at me with an expression that spells pure infuriation. “Don’t be dense.” She points to the back of the car. “We can’t have the two of you bouncing around in the backseat now, can we? I mean, can you imagine if someone remembers seeing you in the back of our vehicle? Or you try to get cute and overpower us or something?”

  I blush as I recall thinking the very same thing moments before. “Oh no, no, my dear girl. We can’t have that!” Claudia titters as if we are having cocktails together and sharing a private joke. Her laughter halts abruptly and her face turns stony. In a callous voice, she growls, “You’re taking the trip to your final destination in the trunk.”

  My expression must have registered horror. Claudia apparently gets a kick out of it and offers me a smirk.

  “That trunk isn’t big enough for both of us, Claudia,” my sister points out with disgust.

  Claudia shakes her head, sending that ponytail bouncing again. “Oh, it’ll hold two people without a problem. Just won’t be comfortable ride, though. I’m sure you understand why we can’t take the Jag or the Ferrari…now that trunk would be way too small. This is suitable. It’s just not the luxurious ride your spoiled ass is used to, Beth.”

  Claudia offers us a smile and I swear to God her teeth sparkle. I find it completely ironic that she’s calling my sister spoiled, however. Talk about the pot and the kettle. From what I’ve read about her online, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and basically had the way to stardom paved for her by her very important father, H. Wilhelm Fox, a Hollywood producer.

  Beth shoots Claudia a venomous look that I’m quite sure she learned from Allie. Kevin guides her via elbow toward the trunk. “I certainly will not forget this the next time you want to beg off a PTA committee, Claudia,” my sister mutters through clenched teeth.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. I cannot help but lose my temper. “Really, Beth? That’s what you’re thinking about now? The f’ing PT, f’ing A? Something tells me you’re not gonna have to worry about PTA committees in the future.”

  Beth stares at me as if I
have slapped her, and Claudia actually gawks. I guess she just expected me to be mild mannered till my death? Huh, well she doesn’t know Amy Maxwell. Amy Maxwell is not going to lie down and take death, uh, lying down.

  Instead, I find myself taking death bent ass over teakettle as Kevin shoves me into the trunk. I smack my face on the spare tire on the way down and searing pain instantly shoots through my jaw and nose. I immediately taste the iron of blood. My mouth feels like it is full of gravel, and I find my tongue poking through a hole in my teeth.

  Holy crap! I lost a tooth! I twist my neck to look up at Kevin and Beth and announce my unfortunate circumstance.

  “I wost a toof!” I mumble through the blood and oh my God is that the tooth I just spit out? I feel blood spurting out my nose, too. Suddenly I am dizzy and lightheaded. I’m thinking that my nose is possibly broken, but for some reason, that doesn’t bother me half as much as losing a tooth. After all, I’ve always wanted a nose job. Maybe Derek will give me a discount.

  I expect Beth to scream at my bloody state (she doesn’t do well when it comes to blood, guts, or anything messy like that…she calls my mother when either of her children are sick and Derek is unavailable…what a weenie). But instead, Beth is gazing up at Kevin as he helps her into the trunk. As if my blood filled mouth wasn’t nauseating enough, the look on Beth’s face makes me want to vomit.

  After all this she’s still staring at him googly-eyed? She’s the one who needs to have her head examined, that’s for sure.

  “Kevin, please get us out of here. You know this isn’t what you want. You’re better than this. I know you are better than this,” she whispers frantically.

  He shakes his head sadly at her and then pushes her down, despite her protests. We are now bathed in complete darkness.

  A few seconds later, the purr of the engine starts right underneath us, yet I can still hear Beth whimpering over the noise. My whole body feels like it is vibrating and then suddenly, I feel the car lurch forward. My already sore jaw hits the wheel well. I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying, but I raise my now freed hands to my face to assess the damage from the lost tooth.

  Man, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am hoping that the funeral director will be able to fix my face without the tooth. Damn, I wish I could find that tooth and put it in my pocket at least. I start feeling my way around the trunk with my hands, searching for the tooth.

  Wait a minute. It won’t matter if I have my tooth or not. It’s not like people are smiling in their coffins. Really, Amy? This is what you’re worried about now?

  Not that there is much else I can do, though. Even though my hands are free, they might as well be tied. Well, except for the fact I can scratch these damn itchy wrists. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am helpless, locked in the trunk of a car with my useless, sniveling sister.

  As I pat the floor, not only can I not find my tooth, I realize that there is nothing in this pitch black trunk that I can even think about using for a weapon. Not even jumper cables or a tire jack. The only thing in the trunk is the spare tire and I certainly can’t lift that and fling it at anyone. That bitch Claudia must have stripped the trunk bare on purpose. I know the back of my own minivan is littered with at least half a dozen things that can serve as makeshift weapons.

  Suddenly, the rumbling from the motor seems even closer to my body than it was before. Almost like it’s…in my bra? My hand clutches my chest, making sure my heart isn’t leaping out or something, when I feel it. The most beautiful feeling in the world; that gorgeous, fabulous shape of a cell phone.

  “Merciful Jesus,” I mutter to myself, contorting my body and shoving my hands up my shirt.

  “Knock it off, Amy. You’re kicking me,” my sister grumbles as my foot connects with the side of her body. “I’d rather not have bruises on my face for my funeral.”

  I ignore her as the giddiness builds up inside me; my heart suddenly feels light, although that might be due to the lack of fresh oxygen in the tight space and my pain from my nose and mouth. I cannot believe my good fortune! I forgot that I had shoved my cell phone into my bra. Kevin just checked the front of my hoodie and took my word for it! I never put my cell phone there…it was almost like kismet. At least I think that’s what kismet is.

  My fingers finally wrap around the phone and I pull it out of my shirt, nearly smacking my sister in the face in the process. At least I think it’s her face. Quite frankly, I can’t see a blessed thing so it might in fact be her butt. Who knows?

  “Amy, are your hands free?” I hear her hiss in an accusing tone into my ear. Nope, it’s her face.

  “Shhh! I’m trying to do something to get us out of here,” I whisper back as I accidentally drop the phone. We hit a bump and it gets trapped underneath my body.

  “Well unless you can pop open the trunk and radio for help when we land on the side of the road, I don’t think it’s going to help,” Beth remarks in a sarcastic tone.

  I continue to fumble with the phone, but my hands are shaking so badly it’s hard to get a good grip on it. Hurry up, Amy! You don’t know how far away they’re taking you! This could be your last chance! Hurry! Hurry!

  With those thoughts doing nothing to calm me, I contort my neck so I can get a look at the phone’s screen which lit up when I touched it.

  “Is that a phone? Is that a phone, Amy?” I can hear Beth’s voice becoming unnecessarily loud and shrill.

  “Shush, Beth. No need to screech. I’m right here!” I hiss at her. The car hits another bump and the phone skitters into the corner of the trunk, slightly out of my reach. I wiggle my fingers to try to pull it toward me, but it doesn’t budge; it appears to be stuck.

  No! This is not going to happen! I’m not going to have luck on my side and then not be able to get to the phone. No, no, no! I refuse to die this way!

  “You had a phone all this time, Amy? Why didn’t you call the police? Why didn’t you call Roger? Why didn’t you-”

  “Beth, shut the hell up,” I snap as I wiggle my body to extend my finger’s reach. Beth shuts up. “I didn’t realize I had the phone till just now when it rang. But I can’t seem to-” I groan. “Reach it.” How is this possible? My life is being reduced to my phone being out of arm’s length.

  “Maybe Roger was calling!” Beth chirps hopefully. “Maybe he finally realized we didn’t come back with the pizza.”

  Gee, I would hope he would have realized we didn’t come back with the pizza by now. Why didn’t he call sooner though? We’ve been gone at least an hour or more by now. He probably fell asleep.

  “Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter who called. I’ve got to-” With one final gasp, I manage to press the redial button on my phone and hear ringing. “Oh thank God! It’s going to redial Roger!” I exclaim happily, just as the car grinds to a halt. I hear one car door slam and then a second.

  No!!!!!!! We cannot be stopping now! Please just two more minutes! Two more minutes! Please pick up, Roger! Please, please, please! Do not go to voice mail!

  “Hi, this is River! You’ve reached my cell…obviously…you called it. You know what to do. Beep!”

  “River? Who’s River?” Beth is screeching. “Did you cheat on Roger? With some guy named River? Who names their kid River?”

  I’m just as confused as Beth. I guess Roger hadn’t called me after all. River probably was calling about something for school. Oh, that stupid project…

  I hear footsteps approaching and the trunk beeping. I realize I don’t have much time and it doesn’t matter who called me. I quickly attempt to leave a message.

  “River, please help! We’ve been kidnapped by Claudia Fox and her husband! Call the police! Call my husband! 7325156-”. I don’t have time to finish the phone number because the trunk is flooded with light as Kevin pops it open.

  Beth whimpers as Claudia steps into view, tossing her fashionable ponytail over her left shoulder and peering down distastefully at us. I push my body against the back of the trunk so that they
don’t see the cell phone. I am practically in tears now. If I had gotten just three more seconds on the phone, I could have given River Roger’s complete cell number and a description of the vehicle. And even though I have no idea where we are, I could have given him a general idea of how far away we are. Maybe, just maybe, that would have helped.

  But now, as Claudia brandishes her gun in our faces, I realize that the end is definitely coming. A heck of a lot faster than I thought it would, too. I hear the ringing of a cell phone and momentarily am alarmed that it is mine. But then I see Claudia with her phone to her ear.

  “Hello?” She is now speaking in her actress voice. She covers the phone with her hand and waves her other hand in our direction. “Take care of this,” Claudia instructs Kevin, stepping out of view.

  Kevin makes a face as she walks away and then turns to peer down at me in the trunk. “What the hell? How did you get out of the restraints?” Crap. I’ve forgotten to pretend that I am still duct taped.

  As Kevin roughly grabs for my arm, I feel like I am walking on a cloud and my vision is…well, the only way to describe it is swimmy. Like I’ve opened up my eyes in a heavily chlorinated pool or something. I can see Kevin but he seems to be swaying in and out of my visual field. Maybe my blood sugar is dropping or something. I realize that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and I’m pretty sure my nose is still bleeding. I’m tasting blood in my mouth from my tooth falling out. Does that count as drinking?

  Would it be too much to demand something to eat? You know, like my last meal or something? Even criminals get a last meal. Beth and I should at least get a last meal. And we’re not even criminals! Well, at least I’m not. Not that Beth is a criminal, but she’s been a bad girl. In fact, this is all her fault. She shouldn’t get any food…

  These are the ludicrous thoughts that are swimming through my brain as I feel myself slip unconscious, blissfully unaware.