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“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said.
“You better not,” he warned. “It was your boyfriend’s dick move that got you here, and now you’re going to pay.”
I tried not to let on how those words terrified me. Trent could probably smell fear, like a dog. “What do you want?” I said again.
“It’s simple,” Trent said, as if there were anything simple about this situation. “I need money. A lot of money, to pay back the people I owe for this busted deal, or I’m dead. I’ve got it on good authority that your boyfriend has a lot of fucking money, even though you wouldn’t know it. So, since he’s the one who got me into this shithole, he can pay to get me out. Or it’s you who gets hurt.”
Oh, no. This wasn’t going to work. Trent didn’t know who he was dealing with. “It’s you who’s going to get hurt,” I told Trent. “He’s going to kill you.”
“You think I’m scared of some guy with a fake leg?”
That made me angry. “He got that fake leg in Afghanistan you piece of shit,” I yelled at him, “serving his country and kicking ass. You think a guy like that is going to think twice about doing you serious damage?”
“You’re not listening,” Trent said. “He’ll have to think twice, or it’s going to go bad for you.”
“Then he’ll just hurt you harder, you idiot,” I said.
“Nobody has to get hurt if he pays me!” Trent shouted, his voice ringing through the car. “So shut up! Just shut up! This will work! It has to!”
I was afraid he would hit me again, so I was quiet after that. We were crossing the San Mateo bridge in the rain. I had to think of a way out of this. He had to stop the car sometime, and when he did I had to find a way to scream, get attention, get someone to call the cops. Trent wasn’t armed that I could see. I glanced down at the ballet flats I was wearing with my jeans. I was strong and fit, unlike him. If I caught him by surprise, how far and how fast could I run?
He took an exit and pulled into an industrial complex somewhere south of Oakland, a massive area that looked like it belonged to a pharmaceutical company. He parked at the back of the huge parking lot, which was mostly empty, surrounded by nothing but other parking lots and faraway buildings, with the freeway in the distance beyond, shrouded by rain. I was just trying to calculate how far I had to run to get help when Trent pulled out his phone.
“Okay,” he said. “You’re going to call loverboy. You’re going to tell him I have you, and that if he doesn’t bring one hundred thousand dollars to the location I give you, I’m going to start punching your pretty face.”
I stared at him. “What the hell happened to you?” I asked.
“I had the opportunity to make a big buy,” Trent said. “A real connection in the business. But I needed cash. Who cares if a bunch of strippers aren’t getting paid? Seriously? Everyone knows you’re all a bunch of fucking sluts. Like one of you could afford a lawyer?” He looked disgust
ed. “If you could afford a lawyer, you wouldn’t be stripping in the first place. That’s how it works.”
“So you took our money,” I said.
“I had to.” He shrugged. “They gave me the merchandise, but I couldn’t sell it right away. I thought I had a buyer, but he got cold feet and backed out. But I still needed to pay the guys who’d given me the product.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot and cold. “Then your boyfriend came along and sunk the whole thing, and the cops took the product. And the guys I owe say that’s not their problem. They say it’s mine.” My gazed darted past him out the window, and he shook his head. “Don’t think about it, Gwen. I’ll catch you if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll run you over if I have to. I’m about to be killed here. You don’t understand how desperate I am.”
The phone. That was my only play. He wanted me to call Max, tell Max to meet him. I had no doubt that if I made that call, Max would come. Except he’d bring a different kind of deal than Trent thought he was making.
“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’ll call Max. I’ll tell him whatever you say.”
Still he held on to the phone, his pasty face looking in to mine. “You do it, or you’ll get another punch in the stomach. And this one will break a rib.”
I gritted my teeth. I was getting tired of his threats. I wanted to hear Max’s voice more than anything in that moment, wanted to know he was coming for me. “Give me the phone,” I said.
But still he held on to it, as if he hadn’t quite thought it through. As if he was just realizing that I could take the phone and dial 911 just as easily as I could dial Max. This guy is a real criminal mastermind, Max had said. He definitely had desperation more than brains on his side.
“Okay, listen,” he said, stalling for time. “There’s a location where he has to meet me with the money. It’s a warehouse in Oakland. He has to come alone and bring one hundred thousand dollars. No backup, no cops. You get it?”
“Just tell me the address and give me the phone.”
Trent opened his mouth, but then something happened.
A car pulled up next to ours. Trent was turned in the driver’s seat, facing me, and he barely had time to turn before a huge, muscled arm ripped open the door and dragged him out onto the concrete.
Trent made a high-pitched whoop sound, as if he was on a particularly painful roller coaster. He fell backward, propelled by an arm that had a familiar tattoo on it.
“Max!” I shouted, scrambling out of the passenger door and running around the car. Max had Trent on his back on the ground, looming over him, his big hands fisted in Trent’s jacket. They were both getting soaked, and so was I as the cold rain pounded down over me. I could see the muscles of Max’s back like granite beneath the cotton of his t-shirt. He was face to face with Trent, and I had never seen Max’s face so cold, so angry, or so utterly murderous.
“Did you hurt her?” he roared.
