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“Please, please sit, my dear,” he said to her before sitting himself. “I’m Gastón but my friends call me Gus.”
“Are we friends?”
“I’m hope we can be. You see, a little birdie told me they saw you…how do I say… being friendly with Mr. Callahan?”
Her face bunched up and she tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully. “Who?”
“You don’t know Ethan Callahan?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t have any friends by that name.”
He sighed and clenched his fist before pulling out a phone. “This a picture of you and him seated together at a María Paula’s restaurant.”
She leaned in and then sat back “Oh…he’s a customer.”
“Do you sleep with all your customers? Because this is a picture of you both heading into a hotel isn’t?”
Again, she made the same face and shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?”
She trembled and tears started to build in her eyes. “I really don’t remember…I think…I think was drugged! You can ask the maid, I woke up and he was gone—”
“And you didn’t go to the police?”
“I don’t want any trouble.” She shook her head, the tears spilling over. “Please, I don’t know anything! Please let me go! Please!”
“Boys, help the pretty lady regain her memory—”
“NO! PLEASE!” She screamed and sobbed, clasping her hands together as she fell on her knees. “I beg of you—”
Gus raised his hand to stop the guards, reaching over to grab her red face by the chin. “At least tell me what he said while he was in the restaurant. What was he looking at? Why is he here? Tell me something, you stupid little whore.”
She sniffed and nodded. “I heard one thing.”
“What?”
“While he was eating he…he said,” she sobbed, trying to catch her breath.
“He said what?”
“Go fuck yourself you sack of dog shit!” she hollered, and before I could blink, she stabbed him between his neck and shoulders.
“K—Ki—Kill her!” he gasped out, reaching up to his neck to as blood gushed out while she took the ties off her feet and rose from the dirt.
I looked to the guards wondering why none of them fired or even moved to stop her only to see them on their knees gasping and wheezing for air. It was so bad they were trying to take off their masks, but they didn’t have the strength.
When did she do this? How?
“Oh,” she wiped her eyes before the zip ties fell off her wrist. “I haven’t forced myself to cry like that in a bit. It took me much longer than usual. Anyway, hold on Gus, I have some people I need to repay.”
She rolled her shoulders and strolled over to the three men, picking up one of their rifles.
“Mr. Driver, when you punched me in the stomach before throwing me into that van,” she pointed the gun at his stomach, “it hurt, but not as badly as this will.” She fired. He yelped like some type of wounded animal before falling over. He held his stomach and when he did, she shot his hands. Then his knees, then…right into his groin.
“Don’t worry, I forgive you now,” she said and looked to the others, who stared at her in horror.
“Mr. Kidnapper number two,” she called like a teacher in class, stepping to
