Page 117 of The Deals We Make
Learning I may not have been this group’s intended target doesn’t make me feel any better about my situation. My heartpumps so fast, I can barely breathe as I acknowledge this could make me disposable to them.
I’m not Vex.
And I know what the people in this room look like.
Their options are now limited. But the best outcome is they keep me alive to use me as bait. The worst? They have no further use for me.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Her description of Ti, while not untrue, makes me hate her even more. Because there is a tone on the wordBlackthat expresses disgust.
And I want to kill her for that alone.
“She was the only one there,” says the tall man with blond hair as he ties me securely onto the chair. The cable ties dig into my skin, so I capitulate and stop trying to fight.
The second man throws the scarf that covered his face down onto a table. “Who knows, maybe you can use her as leverage to get the biker to do what you need. We could send him a body part to inspire him.”
I glance down at my fingers and make fists with both hands.
“If you want a fucking job done properly, do it yourself,” she mutters.
“Next time, I’ll let you,” replies the third man, bald and squat. “She saw us. Couldn’t just leave her there.” He tips the contents of my purse onto the table. My heart sinks when I don’t see my phone.
Blond guy is the reason why my sight is diminishing in my right eye. And the reason there is probably a large bump on the back of my head. He’s got a mean slap with as much force as a punch. I’m grateful I’m not unconscious any longer.
The woman glances at me. “You can relax your fists. Who are you to the biker?”
I remember in the Bible, there was this whole story about one of the disciples who would deny Jesus three times. And while I’d like to be brave, to go down in a blaze of fire in the face of this woman who clearly went to great lengths to grab Vex, I can totally understand why the disciple went that route.
Part of me wants to deny all knowledge. To pretend he’s a one-night stand I picked up in a bar.
But, if I tell her I’m nothing to him…that he’s a vacation fling…that I’ll be back home in California in a week, I’ll have no meaningful value to her. She might dispose of me rather than deal with me.
Plus, she’ll likely know I’m lying. She’ll have seen Vex go into his parents’ home. She’ll have seen me go there too. And into Mom’s.
The truth is supposed to set you free, so I decide to test the theory.
“I’m an old friend of his.”
“Friend?” she asks.
“That’s what I said. Grew up with him. What do you want with him?”
Scarf guy holds up my identification pass to our main office. It’s on a lanyard with the company name on it.
“You work for this company?” the man says.
“Give it to me,” the woman says. She studies it for a minute, then tips her chin to a bank of laptops on a table along one wall. “Look it up.”
They aren’t technical experts. Small things give it away. Their laptops are older, basic. They’ve got a large coffee pot on the same table. No tech person, or no sensible human being, really, would ever put a pot of scalding liquid on the same table as their electronics.
When the man sits down, he’s indecisive. His fingers hover over the keyboard. And while his fingers are nimble, he’s nottouch typing but simply letter pecking quickly with the same four fingers.
He doesn’t know hot keys and how to toggle between screens quickly. It gives me a moment to see what he’s got open on his screens.
“What do you want the biker for?” I repeat.
