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“I don’t see an office,” Lula said. “Must be at the other end.”
We walked halfway down the alley and a car came at us from behind at high speed. It screeched to a stop and four men in ski masks jumped out and tackled Lula and me. We were all rolling around yelling and kicking and clawing. Lula got to her feet, one of the men stunned her, and she crumpled to the ground and lay there lifeless. A second car came in from the other direction and two men also in ski masks got out, scooped Lula up, and stuffed her into their car. A moment later someone gave me a bunch of volts, and I went scramble brain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’d been stun gunned before. This was nothing new. I knew the recovery process. Tingling in my fingers. Buzzing in my head. Disoriented. I tried to relax and concentrate on breathing. I couldn’t see anything, and it took me a while to realize I had a sack over my head. My hands were tied behind me. Felt like a plastic zip tie. The fog was lifting. I was cramped into a fetal position, getting pushed along in some kind of cart. Wheels on concrete, I thought.
I was finally alert enough to be scared. I was sightless with the sack over my head, but there were horrible visions stuck in my mind. Connie’s burns, Vinnie hanging upside down, bloody fingers without fingernails. My heart was racing, and I think I was drooling. Or maybe my nose was running. Hard to tell whenyou’re in a sack and your hands are tied. I heard a door swing open, felt the bump of my cart being rolled over a threshold.
I was working hard to calm myself. I was telling myself I had to be smart. I had to watch for my moment. Panic was the enemy. Suddenly the cart was tipped, and I rolled out onto a hard floor. Deep breaths, I told myself. Don’t show fear. Don’t show pain.
“Now what?” a male voice said. “You want me to beat her up? Get her attention?”
“Not yet.” Another male voice. “She’s probably still stupid from the stun gun. Take the sack off her so she doesn’t suffocate. She’s no good to us if she’s dead.”
The sack was pulled off, and I still couldn’t see a lot in the dark room, but I could see enough to recognize Marcus and Luther. Not a good sign that they were letting me see their faces. I took it to mean that they weren’t expecting me to leave the building alive. I didn’t look beyond them. I lay on the floor with my eyes unfocused and my mouth open. Impaired. Thinking I was pretty good at looking stupid.
“She’s breathing kind of fast,” Marcus said.
“You’d be breathing fast, too, if you just took fifty thousand volts,” Luther said. “Let’s get lunch. She’s not going anywhere.”
The door slammed shut and I got myself into a sitting position. I was in a room about the size of my parents’ living room. Cement floor. Cement walls. Cold and damp. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I saw a dark blob in the corner. The blob moved and I realized it was Vinnie.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m having a great time here.”
“We were wondering about that,” I said.
“Funny. Very funny.”
“Is there a way out?”
“You mean if I wasn’t chained to a chemical toilet that’s bolted to the floor?”
I scanned the room. One door. Looked solid. Probably metal. No windows. Low ceiling for an industrial building. Nine or ten square feet I was guessing. Large vent of some sort in the ceiling over the toilet.
“Do you know where we are?” I asked Vinnie.
“No clue. I was stun gunned and bagged. Came around in this room. How did you get here?”
“I was stupid. I went to look for a storage unit with Lula and I didn’t check for a tail. I should have known they were watching me, waiting for a chance to capture me.”
“Why were you looking for a storage unit?”
“The office got bombed. Long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”
“That’s a real pisser.”
“Yeah. It was upsetting. Not as upsetting as the picture of you hanging from a meat hook.”
“They walked me down the hall and two stairwells for that. Never saw the light of day. Always cement walls or some kind of stucco. Bad light. Peeling paint. I’m guessing this used to be a factory and now it’s abandoned. They wanted a photo op. I hung there for about an hour while they fiddled with their cell phones. These brothers aren’t smart. Luther and Marcus. I heard them talking. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of money that they want.”
“I don’t have it.”
“They think you have it and that’s what matters.”
“What about your fingernails?” I asked him.
