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File after file was an ode to my life. Small events, large events. They were all in chronological order until I came on bank statements for accounts in the Cayman Islands. My father had, indeed, left me a fortune that was in his name, my mother’s name, and mine. I was the only person alive who could collect it, and the many investment accounts that had continued to grow over time. It was more than I could spend in a lifetime, even if I was completely irresponsible.
More importantly, I had enough to charter a private plane from here to anywhere in the world. Now, I needed to figure out how to get the information I needed to get my men and bring them home to me safely.
I waited at the gym, bag in hand. Hugo came in, silent as always, and went to the pull-up bar, barely acknowledging my existence.
I walked right up to him, took out the gun as he came down from a rep, his elbows locked. I pointed a 9mm Beretta at his head, and he looked down the barrel with cold indifference. If anything, he looked a little annoyed.
“I’m sorry.” I told him. “But you’re coming with me.”
He continued to do his next rep, slowly rising up to the bar.
“Okay,” he said as he reached the top. “We’re going to New York?”
“Yes,” I said, a little agitated that he wasn’t more… scared? Distraught? Surprised?
He descended again, locking out his elbows at the bottom, his legs crossed at the ankles.
“I have to go to my room to get my bag.” He peered at the gym bag that lay at my feet, then his eyebrows creased as he started another rep. “That looks like just clothes.”
I kept pointing the barrel of the baretta at his head, but he didn’t seem to care. “And a laptop.”
He grunted at the top, finally showing a slight sign of exertion. Through gritted teeth he said, “You need fire power. That won’t get you far.”
I finally let the gun fall to my side, a little annoyed.
“Is that all you have to say?” I took my free hand and pointed at the gun. “Have you noticed this?”
“Oui,” he said, his tone not changing. “Let me finish, then you can tie me up. Make it look at least a little legitimate.”
“What?”
“Our orders are to keep you here.” He couldn’t shrug as he was finishing his set, but I swear he kind of did. “So that I don’t look… insubordinate.” His accent really tripped over that last word, as though it was disgusting to him. “You need to really kidnap me. Tie my hands, put the gun to my head. There are cameras all over the premises. I need plausible deniability.”
He finished another rep, his arms starting to shake, his lats looked swollen under the exertion. He got to failure near the top of the rep and he came down, letting go, his feet landing with cat-like agility.
“So you’re going to go along willingly?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It’s more interesting than watching Callum make goo-goo eyes at his woman.”
I blinked, staring at him in shock. “Okay then.”
“Do you have anything to tie my hands with? Zip ties?” he asked, his face a little agitated, as though having handcuffs in my back pocket was something everyone did. When it was obvious I had nothing, he rolled his eyes. “Use the wrapping you put on your knuckles.”
“Oh,” I said, realizing. “Okay.”
I went into my gym bag where I kept my gloves and took the long roll of red wraps. They were too long, so with some awkward fumbling, I was able to cut it against the grain of the threading. Hugo put his wrists together in front of him.
“Shouldn’t it be behind you?”
“We only needplausibledeniability,” he said, as though he was growing impatient. “Notactuallydeniability.”
So I tied his hands in front of him, and he tested the strength of my ties. He criticized my binding. “You don’t want any of the tie to go in between my wrists? To maybe tighten them? Make it harder for me to get out?”
“We only need plausible deniability.” I threw his words back at him.
“Fair enough.” He shrugged and almost smiled. As close to a smile as he could get. “My bag is in my room. We’ll need it on our way out.”
“You packed a bag for when I’d kidnap you?” I wasn’t sure if that was what he was implying. “When?”
