Page 82 of Damaged

I cough and gag. It feels like I’m going to puke, but I dry heave once instead. I can see people walking past on the sidewalk. This time right in front of the glass doors.

“Hey!” I shout, but it’s interrupted as a piece of duct tape is put over my mouth. The people never even turn towards the dark windows. They just keep walking, clueless to what’s happening inside.

The man grabs my legs and drags me so I’m hidden behind the reception desk. Then he joins his friends in the back.

I can wiggle so I’m not behind the desk, but it’s of little use. He’ll probably be back before I can shimmy to the door. I move so the duct tape on my wrists is against the sharp edge of the metal desk leg. But it’s far from sharp enough to cut through the heavy wrappings of the tape. Besides, the safest thing I can do for myself is to lie still.

To wait for these robbers to leave and hope all they’re after is the artifacts. It’s feeling this vulnerable that makes me want to cut the bindings. What if they set the place on fire? What if they’re not done with me?

My mind spins with hypotheticals. I can’t take deep breaths to calm myself. I try to turn my brain off. To picture getting back to my apartment. Taking a shower. Forgetting this even happened.

Then I realize that won’t be tonight. If they do spare me, they’re not going to untie me or make it so I can crawl for help. They’ll make it so I’ll have to be found in the morning. And by then I will have wet myself. It’ll be a dozen hours spent on this cold floor before I’m free.

I hear them taking things out of the inventory room. They must have a truck parked in the alley. It doesn’t take them allthat long. They’re taking the most valuable pieces. The Egyptian artifacts.

I can’t help but feel a bit of shame. This was my fault. I’m sure if I kept my eyes open a little more, I could’ve sensed something was wrong.

And then there was the burglar alarm on the hallway wall I could’ve pressed. I close my eyes and cringe. I ran right past it. It didn’t matter that the power was out. It’s battery powered. I was so focused on escaping, I didn’t even think of it.

All my pride from being cool in a crisis that I got from how I handled Cairo is gone now. I wasn’t even cool then. I was just lucky. I was stupid enough to get in that situation in the first place. I got out of my taxi when I wasn’t directly in front of my hotel.

I’m feeling useless, and when I think of where I was just a half hour before, under the lights in Central Park in James’s strong grasp, I start to cry silently.

I hear the footsteps come close again. Heavy. Angry.

I’m rolled onto my back, and a flashlight is shined into my eyes. I see my attacker. His green ski mask has yellow rings around the eyes. He’s holding my purse and drops it on the floor so only my wallet is in his hand.

Then he slides my driver’s license from its clear pocket. “Okay, Sophia Simms. We’re deleting all the security footage as I speak. There’s nothing else we need from you, but you heard some voices tonight, sweetheart. If you’re ever questioned to try to identify those voices… we will kill you. Understand? We all took a good look at your birthdate and address. It doesn’t matter where you end up. You won’t be hard to find. Understand?”

I wish I was as afraid as I was earlier, but whenever this scumbag calls me sweetheart, my gut boils with rage. I hope he can see the fire in my eyes as I glare at him.

“Just nod if you understand.”

I don’t plan on nodding, but before I even could, there’s a shout from the back.

“Hey, hurry up! We’re leaving!”

“I’m not going to ask you again,” says green ski mask, holding his flashlight closer to my eyes.

I wish I could spit. Speak. Summon any act of defiance and not just lie pitifully on the floor. I start to mutter, when suddenly both of our gazes are drawn to the front windows. There’s a red flash. Brake lights.

A car is moving in reverse towards the glass door.Speedingin reverse.

It bursts through with a crash and a jingle of glass falling like rain. My attacker stares, as shocked as I am.

The car jolts to a stop.

The driver’s door flies open. I see a tall man stand and the sweep of his overcoat as he moves quickly.

He stretches out his arm, holding a pistol. When the gunshot erupts in the lobby, I see his face for a millisecond in the muzzle flash.

James.

I’m too shocked from seeing him to be shaken by the sound of the shot.

His face flashes in the dark again as he shoots a second time. Thick dark hair hanging over his forehead. Murder in those emerald eyes.

There’s screaming now. Ski-mask man lies several feet from me on the floor.

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