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The safest place in the world for me right now is here, I play on repeat in my mind, trying to make it make sense…until it doesn’t.
With a towel wrapped around my body, I move back toward the workbench, ready to turn out the light when I see something lying there.
Two printed-out tickets for the Bahamas, and we leave…tomorrow. Wait…today. This morning just before noon.
Panic engulfs me as I take a step back. Moving back to the table I snatch up the tickets, seeing they were purchased not one hour ago. Quickly I move through the warehouse, looking for Sergio’s laptop, which I find. And right next to it is a printer.
Is this all a ruse? Is he trying to help me or…traffic me?
This isn’t a question worth sticking around and finding out the answer to.
I grab my bag and shove my things back inside. It doesn’t require much work because most things didn’t even get unpacked. That’s how little time I’ve been here.
Hurriedly I get dressed, grab a chair, and move to the bathroom. Standing on the chair I look out the window, which has barbs on it.
Back at the workbench, I find a hacksaw, and seconds later I’m back in the bathroom, cutting through the rebar barrier.
Surprisingly it’s not that hard to get through, it’s just that there are at least five bars and I have to remove the tops and bottoms, which is going to take time.
I saw as fast as I can, sweat pouring down, but I have no time to worry about that.
I just keep going, my arms feeling like they’re full of lead from keeping them elevated as I saw, and saw, and saw…until finally, I break through the last piece, which falls to the ground outside.
Sticking my head through I look around. Nothing. I toss my bag out and then maneuver through head first, realizing I can’t go out this way. I’m not face planting on the concrete.
I hook my heel on the edge of the concrete and manage to turn myself around, my breathing really kicking, my heart rate through the roof.
Grabbing onto the side I slowly release my fingers and I slide down, bending my knees as soon as my feet make contact and I fall back onto my butt. Thankfully the backpack breaks the fall on my back and I stand, realizing I did it. I made my way out and I didn’t get hurt.
At least not physically. Mentally and emotionally I’m a wreck. This man was going to traffic me. Of course, he was.
Saying a silent prayer I think my lucky stars I woke up in the middle of the night and saw those tickets. But this isn’t over yet. If I go back to my dorm I’m a sitting duck, ready to get picked off again. Not to mention I don’t want to bring harm to my roommate or floormates.
Dad’s out of town and mom’s shacked up with who knows what pool boy in God knows where. They’ve never permitted me to have my own key to the house, probably because they didn’t want me walking in and catching them cheating on one another, despite it being completely obvious that’s what they’ve been doing for years.
I have nowhere to go, except…the police station. So I put one foot in front of the other and start walking, until I can recognize something, anything that will serve as a landmark. He took my phone, locking it up for ’security’, so I don’t have a way to contact anyone.
Because right now I’m lost, in more ways than one. And the worst part of it all is I lost him. Forever.
I thought he was different. But I was wrong. He was a cold-hearted criminal. Goodbye and good riddance.
8
Sergio
If Don De Luca wants to start something between us that’s fine. But I’m the one who’s going to finish it. Right. Fucking. Now.
Approaching his compound his security detail is understandably on high alert. He’s got more men than normal after what happened earlier today. Again…predictable.
But what’s also predictable, and more important, is his arrogance.
Because he’s involved in a number of exotic dancing establishments, illegal gambling, and other things that happen in the night, he keeps odd hours. For years he’s smoked a cigar before bed, in his backyard with guards nearby.
Not exactly a big deal…unless you’re a motivated assassin with a sniper rifle, a scope, and one hell of a calm breathing pattern. I fit that bill to a T.
Taking a position up on a hill from five hundred yards away I wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally, around two-thirty a.m., he steps outside. The only thing is he doesn’t take a seat in his chair, instead standing while smoking, which is unusual. He seems to be on a serious call, which is only going to make this all the better.
