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A couple hours later, I heard Bartholomew’s voice. “Nice place, old man.”
Karl chuckled at the backhanded insult. “Old man? I could take you in a knife fight.”
“Just tell me when and where.”
Very weird banter…
“Before we discuss business, I need a drink.” Bartholomew’s footsteps came close to the hallway.
I did my best to act normal in front of the guards, but my breathing had picked up quite a bit.
“Ignore the woman in there,” Karl said after him.
“I will—as long as she’s not naked.” His footsteps grew louder and louder. Then he appeared, in his black leather jacket, his military-style boots, with his dark hair slicked back. He walked in like he owned the place and headed straight to the bar without looking at me.
It took all my strength not to scream.
He moved behind the bar and grabbed the bottle and the glass. As he poured the drink, he lifted his gaze and looked at me.
“Help me,” I mouthed.
Bartholomew looked down again, as if he hadn’t noticed. “Got any cigars?”
Neither of the men moved.
Bartholomew looked up again. “I’m talking to you two idiots.”
One of them walked away, moving into another room.
I knew Bartholomew was up to something. I’d seen him in action, seen the way he made things happen in the most subtle ways.
“Where do you keep the good stuff?” Bartholomew took a drink then poured it down the drain. “Donkey piss, that’s what this is.” He kneeled down behind the bar.
The other guard moved and joined him, unlocking one of the cabinets.
Bartholomew slammed his head onto the corner of the cabinet. It was a quiet thud, and then it was silent.
I gave a quiet gasp, a gasp no one seemed to hear.
Bartholomew quietly lowered the guard’s body to the floor, hidden behind the bar. Then he moved across the room to where the second guard had disappeared. I didn’t hear anything, and when Bartholomew returned, he returned alone. He pulled out a knife and sliced through the ropes.
“Thank—”
He held his finger to his lips, his eyes furious.
I felt the ropes go loose. I could finally take a full breath.
He pulled out a gun from the back of his jeans and handed it to me. In a whisper so quiet I barely heard him, he said, “Hide. Shit’s about to go down.”
I took the cold gun in my hands and gave a nod.
“You have two minutes.” He grabbed his drink and headed back to the room, and as if nothing had happened, he continued their conversation. “Did you hear about Roan? I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that distribution has been halted…”
I got free of the rope and crept to a different part of the apartment. I opened the first door I came across and saw that it was an empty guest room. I snuck inside and shut the door before I entered the closet. I shut that door, got comfortable on the floor, and waited.
* * *
The sound of gunfire exploded.
