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“Thank you so much, but I already have a hotel. I’m staying just across, at the Cheap Inn. I’ll just wait for my boyfriend there.”
I was about to walk away, that cold tingle of adrenaline starting to form in my belly, when the other officer blocked the way.
“We’ll drive you.”
“No need.” I panicked, but before I could even try to run, Officer Nkosi grabbed me by my arm and pulled me toward the police car.
“It’s for your own safety,” he huffed, wrestling against my pull when the gun fell out of my back.
Both cops exchanged urgent glances.
“Sneaky bitch,” Officer Nkosi growled, twisting my arms back violently to cuff me. The other officer opened the back of the cop car.
“Let go!” I yelled. “Help!”
But before I could get another scream for help out, I was already thrown into the back of the cop car, its door slamming into my face.
I desperately tried to move my hands, but the handcuffs held tight. I yelled and threatened them with the US embassy, but instead of racing off or letting me go, the cops were standing there, chatting and smoking a cigarette. They were laughing, like they were having the greatest time of their lives.
I kicked the door hard, but it didn't budge. The sound pissed Nkosi off.
“Stop that you cunt, or I’ll make you! Your husband’s bounty says barely alive is acceptable, so cut the shit!”
I gaped at him. I was right about these bastards all along.
Desperate, I started looking around for anything that could free me. But it was a damn cop car! These things were made to keep folks with those exact same thoughts trapped in here!
“Why the hell are you doing this?” I howled, slamming my back against the car seat. “If it’s money you want, I can pay you more.”
“Shut up, bitch,” Nkosi sneered.
Rage filled every inch of me. I wanted to scream and kick the door again, but then what? They would beat me to the moon and back.
I shook my head and tried to calm myself, breathing in and out, in and out.
Nkosi took a last puff of his cigarette and threw it onto the street. The door to the front opened and they got in. Hot tears started to form in my eyes. Going back to Marcello was like walking into the line of fire. I couldn’t endure that torture again. He’d be angrier than ever when he got me back, and honestly, I’d rather be dead than ever see his face again.
I needed to do something but forcing my way out of a locked cop cruiser wasn’t going to happen. I needed something better than what my husband had offered the officers. But I didn’t have a cent on me.
“Please,” I begged one last time.
“Shut up!” the other officer threatened me.
The engine roared loudly as Officer Nkosi turned the keys. His cop buddy got out a phone from his vest, his face illuminated by the cell phone, when he lowered the phone again, sighing loudly.
“Fuck, not now,” he cussed, nodding at something.
“These fucking homeless,” Nkosi mumbled. Up ahead, I could see someone was coming our way, waving his arms wildly as he sang loudly and out of tune. He looked like a drunk homeless guy that had lost his way. I watched him as he sauntered toward us, limping like he had a bad leg from an accident or some other misfortune.
“If you say a word, I’ll shoot you,” Nkosi growled at me.
The man started moving faster and reached the front-seat window of Nkosi. He wore a dirty jacket, and a large hoodie covered most of his face. I could hear them talking low to each other, but I couldn’t make out the words, when out of nowhere, the homeless man pulled a gun out and started firing into the front of the cop car. I threw myself down onto the floor as shots were exchanged. Three shots. And then another. Then it was utterly silent.
“You okay?” a familiar voice hollered calmly but firmly into the back of the car. I lifted my head and looked out the window, scarcely believing my eyes.
It was Andrei! So he did come back to the hotel to look for me! I felt the hot sensation of tears burn my eyes all over again.
“I’m... I’m fine,” I mumbled, swallowing that painful knot in my throat. Everything happened so fast, nothing registered.
