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“START TALKING!” The boom of a menacing voice makes me jump in the seat. My eyes flash to the closed door. Who the hell is that?
“I don't know. I really don’t.” That voice, I do recognise.
Jeff’s usual joyful voice trembles.
“BULLSHIT. We want our money!”
Oh God, is the firm in trouble? I lean, tilting my head to hear better, the papers gripped tightly in my hands.
“I don't have it,” Jeff whimpers.
Thud!
I jump again and stand slowly when I hear the distinctive sound of flesh pounding against flesh.A series of pained grunts fill my ears and lances my stomach with dread. He’s beating Jeff up!
Pulling my gym bag round to my front, I dig inside for my phone as Jeff grunts and groans. Shit, where is my damn phone! I slip open the door by a fraction, enough to see directly down the hall. Three burly men with hard scowls and dark sneers tower over a cowering Jeff on the floor.I blink in shock. One man, I could tackle verbally, but this is something else. I try to locate my phone to call for help, but my hands are shaking so badly. Fuck!
One guy punches Jeff straight in the face, and his nose cracks under the lethal pressure, blood spurts seeping into his flaying mouth. I grip my throat, horrified by what I’m seeing.
“Maybe we need to teach him a lesson!” another guy says.
“Take a finger,” the larger of the three snaps.
A finger! I gasp and stare, immobile, as one of them flicks a knife out and waves it mockingly in front of Jeff’s face as he begins thrashingabout wildly and the men hold him in place as he calls for help. Oh God! I try to find my phone, but my scrunched up coat is making it difficult. They pin him and yank his hand out, prising his fingers and pressing them flat to the floor.
Oh God, no!
Jeff keeps on wailing, screaming and crying out for help.
“Help me! Someone!” The larger man, the dominant one who is in charge, stamps his heel into Jeff’s mouth, and my stomach rolls. They close in on him. “No. Please, no!” he cries around a blood-curdling scream. There is a sickening crunch and then his finger rolls to the floor. Blood spills along the carpet and my stomach threatens to do the same.
Weakness attacks my limbs, threatening to bring me to my knees. I grip the nearest surface to keep my legs from collapsing under me.
Jeff pants loudly. He’s pale, grey and sweating.They just… they cut his finger off. I couldn’t move, feeling immobilised. My fingertips grip the door handle loosely as I swallow repeatedly, trying to keep vomit from rushing out of my mouth.
“Get us our fucking money, you prick.” He follows his demand with a boot to Jeff’s stomach.
STOP IT! My mind screams what I cannot bring myself to say out loud.
“I don’t have your money. I don’t even know who you are,” Jeff cries weakly, clutching his injured hand close to his chest. “Please, I can't help you. Let me call m—”
The largest of the men leans down and whispers something into Jeff’s ear. Simon’s partner’s eyes widen in shock and the thug gives him a toothy grin.
“Payment is late and we’re going to teach him a lesson. I’m Parker fucking Judd, and I am no one’s fool.”
I tighten my hold on the door, my heart lurching madly, fighting against my ribs to get free, free from the terror it’s encased in. It’s more a vibration than a beat and when I see the metal barrel of a gun, it feels as though it’s stopped completely. My eyes fill with hot tears.
Jeff whimpers and twists away, bringing his hollow gaze directly to mine. I’d expect shock to be on his face. But his eyes are black. His body is lax. All the fight has left him. He knows he is about to die. His hollow eyes latch onto mine. I outstretch my hand, wanting to do something, but coming up empty as to what. Just then, he closes his eyes.
BANG!
Flinching, I yelp at the sound, and all three sets of eyes swing to me and then I’m looking down the barrel of the gun. A bullet ricochets through the door frame, sending splinters of wood exploding in all directions. Screaming, I run to the back door as multiple shots are fired, the bullets whiz past thudding as they make contact with the wall, and plaster flies into my face, causing me to stagger sideways. I crash out into the back alleyway and trip over my own feet as panic grips my limbs and brings me to my knees before I’m wailing in fear and looking over my shoulder.
“Fucking get her!” someone roars. I scramble upright and hit the streets, running as fast as my shaken legs will take me. I dodge people and bump into others as my trainer-clad feet hit the asphalt at a dizzying speed. Tyre wheels spin and I just know it’s them coming for me. I push harder, my legs burning and my heart roaring like a train behind my breast as I collide with someone crossing the road. I get knocked back and observe through the throng of people—large black boots are stomping up the road. I scrape my hands and knees as I push to my feet and rush out into the traffic before the lights change to red. I hit the other side, slamming into a body. I scream, terrified it’s one of them, but see a businessman scowling at me.
“I-I-I’m so-sorry,” I garble, tears falling from my eyes. Once again, I begin running like my life depends on it. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. My heart beats erratically, and amidst the fear, nausea swirls like a swarm of bees in my stomach.
Jeff is dead. I could be dead, too.
