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Tucker grabs my arm gently.
“You’re going to put that bag over my face?!” I continue.
He shakes his head and runs his thumb over my lower lip unceremoniously.
“Close your eyes,” he orders me just before opening the door.
I feel a cloth brush my eyelids, then he forces me to get out.
***
I hear several doors creaking, metal noises, and I soon realize that we are in a warehouse of some kind. Or maybe a closed-down area? With the blindfold on, I can’t see anything. But it’s still better than the bag…I hear some voices I don’t know, and the guy who was driving asks Tucker why my face is uncovered, but Tucker doesn’t answer and keeps going. A new door opens with a terrible creak. We turn in different directions several times in a row, as if we’re walking through corridors. Finally, we enter a rather cold room. All I can hear are my footsteps and Tucker’s. Are we alone?
He sits me down on a concrete floor before putting his hands on my still bound wrists and starts rubbing them gently, as if he is saddened by their state. That’s right, all you had to do was not tie me up, you bastard.
“What’s going to happen now? Did you just hand me over to the big bad wolf?”
My voice is sarcastic but my heart is pounding.
I hear a male laugh behind my back, and it’s not Tucker’s…who’s in this room with us?
“Idiota.”
Idiot? Who just called me an idiot?!
Tucker leans toward me—I can feel his breath on my neck—and inhales deeply before whispering, “I’ll see you out, baby.”
He takes another breath as if soaking up my scent before straightening up and leaving me alone.
“You know the rules, Sanchez,” Tucker begins, taking a few steps away. The door opens once more before he says, “Amelia and Chase are locked in at the other end. I want you to get out before they do. Don’t be selfish, don’t just think about yourself. The first two people out the door, whoever they are, will win.”
This is the second time they’ve said selfish. Why?
Then he slams the door and locks it behind him.
My breath catches. I hear movement behind me. I feel like someone is trying to get out. Yet I can’t make a move.
“Anybody there?” I ask stupidly.
I hear a curse and remember Tucker’s words.
“Sanchez?” I gasp.
The guy doesn’t answer me, but I hear him struggling.
“Hey, oh, I’m talking to you!” I exclaim, trying to get him to answer me.
“Cállate!” he finally says, still struggling.
I’m about to answer his insult when I hear the sound of something light being thrown on the ground.
“Of course, I get the pain in the ass with me,” he grumbles with a Hispanic accent. His voice is no longer muffled. He must have succeeded in removing the bag from his face.
I think he’s the only one who can help me in this situation, but I still try to free myself. I swallow a curse over my aching wrists.
“Help me,” I command to the asshole next to me.
I hear footsteps at my back and stand still. An icy hand holds my wrists in place. I hear the young man inhale before pulling strongly on the two sides of the tie until it breaks with a snap. I move away hastily, relieved to be finally free, and tear off my blindfold before tossing it aside.
