Page 73 of The Money Man
Now she just had to find a way to get the granola past the fist clamped around her throat.
Derek chewed silently beside her, lifting spoonfuls to his mouth with methodical regularity, while she could only eat tiny bites. She hoped it meant that he was planning their escape instead of paying attention to what he was eating because her brain had stopped forming coherent thoughts after her request for food. It had been all she could think of to delay the terror of being bound and gagged.
She had to stop herself from glancing at the kitchen clock every few seconds. Barsky was smart enough to become suspicious that she was expecting something. But so many bad things could happen in twenty minutes. She wanted it to be over already.
Her hand shook so that milk slopped off the spoon and back into her bowl, which gave her an idea for one more delaying tactic. Then she hoped that Derek would have come up with a way to keep them free.
She forced herself to continue eating the cereal. It figured that it would be a healthy, fibrous granola that took forever to chew and swallow. She needed to finish it before Ivan decided their allocated breakfast time was up. A surreptitious glance at her watch showed that she had to speed things up, making her nearly choke on a particularly large clot of grains. Finally, she scraped her spoon on the bottom of the bowl with a rudely loud noise. Reaching for the cereal box, she refilled her bowl.
As she had hoped, Derek courteously reached for the milk, giving her the chance to collide with his arm as though she were also grabbing for the jug. The plastic container tipped over away from them, splashing its contents onto the table and the kitchen floor.
“Oh no! I’m sorry!” Alice said, channeling all the nervous stress she was feeling into her words as she tried to sop it up with her paper napkin, knowing her efforts wouldn’t be effective. “I’ll clean it up, if you let me have some paper towels.” She started to stand up.
“Sit, you stupid bitch!” Barsky snapped. “Ivan, get her a roll of towels.”
“Just leave it, Myron,” Ivan said.
“You know I can’t stand sloppiness,” Barsky said. “Let her clean up her mess.”
Ivan shook his head but found the paper-towel holder and dumped it on the table in front of Alice before backing up to the island again. “I will be watching you carefully.”
Alice nodded and slowly reached for the towels, tearing off a handful to wipe up the spill from the table and piling the soggy towels in her bowl. “May I walk around the table to clean the floor?”
Ivan raised his gun and aimed it at her. “Go ahead.”
Having that small black hole staring her in the face sent a wave of gut-clenching fear through her. Pushing her chair back with a squeal that made her wince, she walked in slow motion around to the front of the table with her hands held up at her shoulders. She didn’t want to get killed over a simple delaying tactic.
“I’m going to kneel down on the floor now,” she said, moving with great deliberation.
“I know what you’re doing,” Ivan said, the gun terrifyingly steady as it tracked her. “Just finish the job.”
Alice knelt beside the white puddle and mopped up the milk with more thoroughness than it warranted, swiping fresh towels over the slate floor until it was bone dry. Bracing her hand on the table, she rose slowly and walked back around the table at the same slow pace before she eased down into the chair, giving Derek a quick glance to find his expression unreadable. She’d done her best. Now he had to pick up the slack. She wished she knew where the service elevator was located so she had some idea of which way to run, if given the chance.
Warmth and comfort washed through her when Derek snuck his hand under the table to give her thigh a quick squeeze before he tapped out, “G-o-o-d.”
“I want to move them to heavier chairs so we can secure them better,” Ivan said to Barsky. “There are some good ones in the living room. Metal and leather.”
Barsky shrugged. “Why not? Might as well all be comfortable together.”
Alice hated the fact that the two men moved together like a team, their guns held in a way that showed they were terrifyingly accustomed to them. She had hoped that Barsky was the nerd he pretended to be, but he didn’t look at all like one now. His flat blue eyes and efficient movements were those of a man who would kill without a second thought.
Ivan went to Derek’s side of the table while Barsky took up position near—but not too near—Alice. “Up,” he commanded.
Derek’s hand slipped off her thigh as they both rose.
“Now you come with me,” Barsky said, pointing his free hand at Alice. “You”—he pointed to Derek—“with Ivan.”
Are they going to separate us?Alice’s lungs refused to expand.No, no, Ivan said the living room chairs.All in the same room.
She cast a quick look at Derek who nodded that she should go with Barsky. For a moment, a sense of unreality numbed her. She was an accountant. People didn’t hold accountants hostage at gunpoint.
Then Derek collapsed, slamming his shoulder against the table before he hit the floor with a thud.
Had Ivan hit him?
“Shit!” Barsky said. “What the hell?”
Ivan stood with the gun pointed at Derek. “He just went down. Hard.”
