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"Wow!" Gretel exclaims, genuinely impressed. She catches Abigail's smiling eyes, sending a palpitation through her heart, abruptly waking her up.
"With this, we'll keep him still in the back of the storage room, so we can enter without the risk of him attacking us."
Once everything is ready, they exchange glances, release a deep sigh, and, armed with an iron bar, Abigail opens the trunk gate.
The man stays still, cheeks red and puffed with air, trying to speak.
"We're getting you out. Stay still, or I swear I'll crack your head open with this," Abigail threatens.
He nods, so numb he'd do anything to breathe fresh air. Besides, he can assess his situation and evaluate the threat level posed by two women who, by their actions, he's sure aren't linked to any criminal gang.
Gretel grabs his legs and pulls them out. The rope tying his hands to his feet behind his back is a mobility challenge, but they don't trust him enough to untie it. So, with effort, they pull him out and, once on the ground, drag him to the back of the storage room.
Abigail studies the guy's restraints. With his hands tied behind, he won't be able to eat or attend to his needs. To ensure he won't harm them when released, she ties the other end around his neck like a noose. Gretel, at the garage's exit, pulls with force, causing him a slight choke.
"If you try anything, you know what will happen," Abigail warns.
Struggling to breathe, his face red from the effort to let some air in through his nose, he fears for his life for the first time. An error from those two fools, and he'd die in the most absurd way, he thinks. So, he remains still as Abigail unties the rope connecting his hands and feet, securing them in front with a much tighter knot than before. Finally, she threatens him with the iron bar while Gretel stops choking him and joins her. The man falls to the floor amidst muffled coughs behind the tape covering his mouth. Abigail seizes the opportunity of his weakened state, ties the rope to the one binding his hands, leaving him confined in the corner. When they decide he's fully under control, they remove the tape from his mouth.
"Maybe you think we're stupid, but here no one can hear you, so don't shout, and we'll let you breathe through your mouth. You can drink and eat, but if I hear a single scream, I'll shut it again, got it?" Abigail's voice cuts through the air, firm and unyielding.
"You don't know who you're messing with, you damn bitches," he retorts, half-hoarse from sobs and groans. "By now, my father will know I've been kidnapped, and he'll have everyone looking for me. Questions will be asked here and there," he adds with a sinister chuckle, "and I assure you, it won't take long for them to find out I'm in the company of two bitches who have no damn clue what they're doing."
"Who's your father?" Gretel asks, horror evident in her voice.
"Teodoro Blanco," he says slowly, relishing the paleness that takes over the little skin visible on the two women. "That's right," he laughs amused, "you've kidnapped the son of the most wanted drug trafficker in Spain. I don't know what my father will think when he finds out what you've done," he says sarcastically. Abigail and Gretel exit the storage room, lock the door, and exchange a glance, trying to contain the tremors in their bodies.
Chapter 8
"Let's go," Abigail tells Gretel before turning off the garage light and closing the door. Leading her to the kitchen, they shed everything covering their faces. After preparing glasses of warm milk to help them relax, they sit across from each other at the island and sip it in small sips.
"Are you into rock climbing?" Gretel asks, intrigued.
"I was, it's been a long time since I've practiced, but I still remember how to tie knots surprisingly well."
The distraction ends there. After Abigail's last words, both women fall into thoughtful silence, grappling with their obvious and grave problem.
"We need to get rid of the car," Gretel suddenly declares, "our prints are all over it."
"I agree. Tomorrow morning, I'll take it to an empty lot and set it on fire."
"Wouldn't it be better to sink it in a lake like in the movies? Fire will attract too much attention."
"There are no lakes around here, Gretel, and we're not sinking it on the beach. Plus, by the time the firefighters arrive, there won't be a trace of our prints, don't worry."
"You're right. And what do we do with him?"
The tension thickens as they delve into the intricate web of decisions that could seal their fate.
Gretel nods towards the garage.
"I think the first step is confirming if he's really the son of who he claims to be, but I suggest we leave all that for tomorrow. We're exhausted, and at least I can't think clearly right now. We should get a few hours of sleep. With a clear mind, I'm sure we'll find the best way to handle this without causing too much harm," she says, touching her nose with caution to remove the bloodied paper ball.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
Gretel gives her a wry look. Abigail's nose is a bit swollen, and two bruised threads run up the sides, reaching beneath her eyes. Yet, the woman before her remains infuriatingly attractive.
"Every time I breathe," Abigail laments.
