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“Justine,” I called out.
I see her peak out from above the bar. “Oh, thank god.” she murmurs.
“Get some tape and then get out of here, hmm? I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.” I tell her.
She asks no questions as she fetches a roll of duct tape from the back, grabs her purse, and gets out without saying a word.
Part of being successful in this business is surrounding yourself with the right people. People who don’t fuck with you.
So who the fuck do these two think they are?
We hastily secure both kids’ hands behind their backs, then their ankles to thighs effectively keeping them grounded in a kneeling position.
I shoot a quick text over to the other two guys to get their asses here.
I rip the masks off their faces, tossing them to the side. The bigger one is whimpering and begging already, a mixture of snot and tears running down his red cheeks. Glass from the lamp flung over and lodged itself into his calf. Nothing serious, but obviously the cut had turned him into a fucking child.
“Shh,” I shush, bending down to face him. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I-I’m s-s-sorry.” he mumbles through snot and tears.
“No,” I corrected. “I asked who you are?”
“No one.” the other guy answers. “This was just a stupid prank.”
“Then why is no one laughing?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“G-get A-Annie, p-please.” the first one stutters.
This catches my attention. “Who’s Annie?”
“No!” the other boy shouts, looking to the first in disbelief.
“Outside.” the first one whimpers. “She’s a nurse.”
“Dumbass.” the other looks pissed. “Leave her alone.” He pleads. “She’s not involved in this.”
Well, this is a fun turn of events.
Who the fuck is Annie and why should I leave her alone?
My head is running wild as I sit outside the bar.
My mind is playing tricks on me.
How many places have my fingerprints on them? Can’t they dust these and know they belong to me?
My head is racing with a million different ways this could end badly.
Shoot out.
Cops.
Death. Mostly death. All roads lead to death.
It’s been too long. They told me they would be in and out ten minutes ago. My stomach is gurgling, making noises of distress. I gingerly rest my hand on it. I think I’m going to vomit in here if they don’t come out soon.
My beat-up Toyota Camry is the only thing providing me protection. I dressed the part for today’s adventure in all black from my boots to my black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over my head and I popped a pair of dark-framed sunglasses over my eyes. Every little bit of coverage counts, right? Except none of this matters when I’m driving my own damn car. Maybe I should report it stolen once all this is over.
