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“I asked him why he wanted to know,” Vin informed her, walking around to the driver’s side with the bag holding their old clothes. “I mean you’re my best friend, and we know the score. But I think he’s weirded out that you don’t pay attention to him anymore. And if thinking you’re with me is any protection for you, let him think whatever.”
And this was why she loved this guy. Her hero.
She gave him a smile over the roof of the car. “You’re a sweetheart, Vinnie.”
“Fuck, will you not call me that out in the open?” he quickly looked around, making Amara laugh.
Her laughter cut off before it was even out.
Before she could say anything, a hand slammed over her mouth, snatching her violently away from the car. A truck came screeching into the parking lot as one man went over to Vin’s side, both of them getting into a hand-to-hand fight before the older, larger guy held Vin down, one putting a hand over his mouth as well.
Amara watched, horrified, as the man slammed him to the hard concrete on his stomach, incapacitating him.
“Take the girl.”
Amara yelled behind her captor’s hand, the smell of raw tobacco drowning in her nostrils as she struggled against him. She brought the heel of her ballet flats down on the man’s toes, enough to make him grunt but not enough to loosen his hold. The man started to drag her back towards the waiting truck and she kicked her feet, one of her flats coming free in the tussle.
She saw the man over Vin hit him over the head with an elbow, saw Vin go limp on the ground, and started to wrestle against her captor with all her might, her heart slamming at a furious pace inside her chest.
“Fuckin’ bitch won’t stop moving,” the man behind her complained to his companion. Damn right, she wasn’t going to stop moving. Somehow, she managed to trap some skin of his hand between her teeth and bit down as hard as she could.
The man yelled, pulling his hand away enough for her to scream.
“Help!”
A cloth filled her mouth, gagging her, muffling any sound she tried to make.
“Get her in the truck,” one of the men said and Amara struggled harder, her lungs starting to burn from the exertion.
She looked with wide eyes as the masked man facing her grunted in pain and turned around.
Vin stood behind the guy, coming at him with the knife he always kept on him. Her eyes tracked them feverishly, seeing Vin go from attack to defense. The other guy was clearly not just bigger, but also
more experienced than her friend.
He grabbed ahold of Vin’s knife hand, snapping his wrist, making her friend grunt in pain. Amara thrashed against the man holding her, trying to get to him. She watched in horror as the man took the knife and slashed her friend’s face open.
It was Vin’s loud howl of agony that had the man cursing and throwing the knife to the ground.
“We gotta hurry,” he told the guy holding her and they began to drag her back towards the running vehicle. Amara saw someone running towards Vin as the men pushed her into the trunk, and everything went dark.
Amara blinked her eyes open, disoriented as she came to in an unfamiliar room.
It looked like the inside of a prison cell, only cleaner, almost sterile. The walls were a weird shade of off white she had never really seen on walls before. The door in front of her was wooden, heavy, and brown. A smaller door was to her right. And it was dark, not enough to be pitch black since there was enough light coming from under the door to allow her visibility. But it was dark enough to make her uncomfortable.
Amara pulled her arm up to rub the bleariness out of her eyes, only to stop short as she felt the heavy metal around her wrists. Slightly more alert, she looked down at her hands, to see manacles, actual manacles, locking her in place, attached to chains, hooked to the wall behind her.
Heart starting to beat faster as memories came flooding in, Amara looked around the room, trying to find a weapon, a key, anything that could help her escape. There was nothing – no windows in the room, no furniture except an empty table against the wall opposite her. She was sitting on the ground.
And even though her mouth felt full of cotton, she didn’t actually have anything gagging her.
Swallowing down her dry throat, Amara contemplated making a noise. She didn’t know anything about her attackers. She didn’t know who they were or why they had come for her. Could it be accidental? Maybe they had mistaken her for someone else? She was the housekeeper’s daughter and not important at all. It didn’t make sense.
On the tail of that thought, the door unlocked and swung open, light flooding the room, momentarily blinding her. Amara blinked a few times to let her eyes adjust as the man who had slashed Vin’s face entered the room with a bottle of water. In the shadows, Amara could barely see him clearly, while he could see her completely since the light fell on her. The only things she could make out – he was heavyset, possibly bearded.
“Morning, bitch,” the man hopped on the table opposite her, making the wood creak under his weight. “Sleep well?”
Amara gulped, staying silent. God, she hoped they didn’t hurt her. She couldn’t stand the pain. She’d never been able to. Please let this be a misunderstanding.
