Page 3 of Taken As Collateral

The day already hadn’t started out great when a guy bumped into me as I was coming out of a coffeehouse, splashing my mocha with whipped cream onto my jeans. The man claimed he didn’t see me, which was plausible given that I’m petite and he was over six feet tall. After that I missed the bus I wanted to take, and of course the next one was late.

Alessandro replies, “I thought Peter gave you the Morelli.”

We stare at each other in disbelief. Peter had the Morelli when we split the night of the heist. After paying Jack five grand for his part, Peter agreed to stash the Morelli until Alessandro was ready to receive it. I went to visit Mom, who now lives in Reno with her boyfriend.

“Peter delivered it to you,” I say, not falling for Alessandro’s joke even though I’ve never detected a sense of humor in the guy before. But I don’t know the guy that well. All I know is that he’s a fence who’s moved a lot of art.

He frowns. “No, he didn’t.”

As I stand there still trying to assess whether he’s kidding or not, he narrows his eyes at me and says with anger, “I told you no funny business. You don’t mess around with Rafe. Lenny tried to pull a fast one on the man. Next day he was hanging naked from a telephone pole.”

I grimace. “Is Rafe the buyer?”

“Raphael Lee isn’t just any buyer. He’s the top dog when it comes to art and the criminal world. And don’t get me started on the triad he belongs to. If you don’t hand over the Morelli now, be ready to pick out your tombstone.”

“That’s if you’re lucky,” says a stranger.

I look over sharply as Alessandro whirls around. A man on the shorter side wearing all black stands at the entry to the back of the store. With his large protruding eyes and slim build, he reminds me of an Asian Peter Lorre.

“If you’renotlucky,” the stranger continues, “we burn your fingers, pull out your teeth, and toss you into a watery grave. No tombstone required.”

“How’d you get in without tripping my alarm?” Alessandro asks.

The stranger looks exasperated by the question. Two larger men walk into view behind him. My nerves jump on edge. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life avoiding law enforcement, but I wouldn’t mind the 5-0 showing up right now.

“I’ve got the Morelli,” Alessandro tells the stranger. He glances at me. “She was just about to tell me where it is.”

“I don’t have it,” I protest.

“Then Peter’s lying.”

I balk. My brother wouldn’t lie. Scratch that. He wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“Where’s this Peter?” the stranger asks.

I hesitate before replying, “On vacation.”

“Where?”

“Central America.” I turn to Alessandro. “I’m gonna call him right now.”

But when I reach into my bag for my cellphone, the two beefcakes draw guns. My heart sinks. Can this day get any worse?

“No one’s doing anything right now,” the stranger continues, “except coming with me.”

The day just got worse.

“Look,” I try, panic rising in my throat as the beefcake with hairy arms makes his way toward me and the other walks over to Alessandro. “I’m sure this can all be cleared up.”

Hairy takes my bag from me. I let him because it would be fruitless to put up a fight. They haveguns.I hate firearms and have never touched one. The only weapon I’ve ever carried is pepper spray.

Hairy holds the gun to my temple while the stranger approaches me. My insides start to quake. Orithyia was right. She warned me. But I didn’t listen.

“I’m gonna need you to stay very still,” the stranger says as he steps behind me.

“Ow!” I yelp when I feel a stab in the back of my arm.

Forgetting to stay still, I turn my head to see the man withdrawing a needle. He walks over to Alessandro. My vision starts to blur. I feel sleepy. My head is too heavy to hold up.

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