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We come to another red light, and I slam on the brakes again, sending her head forward until she almost hits the center console. “Well, it looks like you’re too naïve to be in a place like Vegas. You’ve gotten us both in serious trouble, maybe even mortal danger. I hope that whatever sense of self-importance you got from it hasn’t worn off yet.”
“Oh yeah? You think that anyone who does something selfless is just pretending? Says a hell of a lot more about you than it does about me, asshole. Now get me the hell out of this car before I call the fucking cops!”
She’s whipped into the side window as I speed away, and her head makes a satisfying smack against the glass. Whatever she is, I need her to see that I’m the one in charge. Any mercy extended to her is a gift from me, and she has full control of how much of it she gets. So far, she’s risking it all.
“You have no idea what kind of bullshit you got yourself into the second you touched that briefcase. Whether you’re lying to me is irrelevant at this point. You’re going to do what I say or you’re going to end up right alongside those fucks who got to you first,” I say in a grave, low voice.
“You’re wasting your time if you plan on interrogating me or something. I don’t know anything about you or your briefcase except that someone stupidly left it in the middle of a casino. The fact that somebody else didn’t steal it out of curiosity is a miracle,” she spits.
I can already tell that she’s going to be difficult for the entire duration of our time together, and I feel as if I’ve made a huge mistake. I probably should have just killed her and tossed her room to make sure she didn’t have it, but of course, I had to be the fucking hero.
5
Faye
Everything happened way too fast for me to have done anything, but I still feel responsible for getting myself into this mess. Even though the man who has kidnapped me is clearly a giant asshole, he’s right about one thing – I got too curious about the briefcase.
I could have just left the damn thing alone, not even glancing in its direction after I realized it was there. It’s my fault for letting myself get that bored in a casino in the first place. Why did I need to preoccupy myself with anything else? Those places are literally dopamine machines. With all the lights, colors, and alcohol, I should have been set for hours.
The silence in the car is palpable. Now that we’re stopped, I can actually see just how expensive this car really is. I don’t know anything about cars at all, but this one feels far more luxurious than anything I’ve ever owned or even ridden in. I guess I can’t be surprised – if you’re going to commit high-profile crimes for a living, you might as well enjoy what it affords you.
“Okay, so you’ve got me trapped in your car. Now what? Do you have a plan?” I ask, my stomach turning as I regret my question.
“I’m not sure that you want the answer to that,” he replies, his voice both deadpan and agitated somehow.
All I’m wearing is my hoodie and some silky shorts, so I’m in no condition to be running around Las Vegas with a strange man. I’m tempted to just start pounding on the windows to see if anyone reacts, but I’ve been told that people in big cities don’t even register women in distress. They all assume that you’re strung out on drugs.
Why the hell did I come here to begin with?
“Well, can you at least tell me what the hell we’re going to do in the next hour? It’s midnight, I don’t know you, and I have a bad feeling that this situation is going to keep getting worse,” I say, looking out the window at the crowds of people gathering around a group of street drummers.
There are so many people out here that I would get swept away in a crowd so easily. My phone battery is only at thirty percent, which could either be just enough or nothing at all, depending on who is willing to help me. With my hair messy and my makeup smeared, I could easily be mistaken for a drug user or a drunk. That would deter most people from wanting to help me. Telling an insane story about being kidnapped by fake cops wouldn’t help much, either.
Waiting with this man might be my best bet.
“You know what? No, I can’t. This whole situation is completely fucked. I have way more to worry about than making sure that you don’t feel unsafe. My whole life is unsafe,” he replies with an unnecessarily curt tone.
I roll my eyes. I’ve always hated how men talk when they’re annoyed. They always act like their plans and feelings are the most important thing to consider regardless of how it impacts anyone else. I hate being talked down to, especially by someone who knows nothing about me at all. For all he knows, I could be in the CIA.
“Alright, then you’d better unlock the door and let me go,” I reply, bluffing. I figure that if I pressure him to make a choice to let me out, he’ll at least have to come up with a plan. At this point, I have no idea where that plan would get me. However, I don’t want to spend any more time in purgatory with him. I hate being out of control and feeling directionless.
“Well, you’ve already seen enough, so I either have to kill you or keep you with me at all times. Sounds pretty inconvenient, doesn’t it?” he replies, leaning all the way back in his chair with an exasperated look on his face.
Inconvenient?
My existence is inconvenient for him?
I can make things a hell of a lot less convenient for him if that’s the way he wants to treat me.
“You’re the one who dragged me out of my hotel room. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
He laughs a little, looking back at me with that same condescending glimmer in his eye. It’s a trademark of all the worst men I’ve ever met. “Oh, did you want me to leave you there with the two fake cops that were going to scrape your eyes out of your skull? Is that what you would have preferred? Because I know a guy who can help you out with that.”
The silence returns just before the street performers begin. It’s too loud outside for anyone to hear me pounding on the windows, and they’re tinted well beyond the legal limit. Nobody would even see me. I’m trapped inside of a one-way mirror.
If I had shoes on, I would use one of the laces to strangle him from behind, but I doubt I’d actually have the strength or the bravery to attempt something like that. Why don’t I know more about self-defense? After all these years I’ve spent terrified of my own shadow on the sidewalk, I should have picked up some basic self-preservation skills.
“So, are you going to be a corpse or an inconvenience? Which do you choose? I know most women hate to be seen as a burden. Would be a real shame if that’s how you felt,” he continues, pulling a cigar out of the glove compartment.
