Page 97 of Fixate

“Do I need to fuck him up?”

I let out a small laugh. “No. But thank you… I need a moment to try and process the information. I’ll be okay. I just need a moment.”

Hurricane takes a step to the side to let me pass. “Don’t go too fuckin’ far. Keep your cell on you at all times.”

Nodding, I stand on my tippy-toes and press my lips to his cheek. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always. Be back in an hour.”

“Okay.” I smile, then take off for my car.

I speed out of the lot, not knowing my destination. I just want to drive. My head is spinning, feeling like a fog is invading as I make my way down to the French Quarter. Sometimes looking out over the city lights can help clear my mind. I park my car, jump out, and start walking along the streets, the city nightlife alive and buzzing. The bright colors of New Orleans flash and light up the winter sky. It might be quieter during winter, but it’s never quiet in New Orleans.

Making my way down Bourbon Street, the bass from the jazz clubs thumps and vibrates through me. The smells of a crawfish boil linger in the air as beads are thrown down at all the drunk girls below, showing their tits. I smile, passing them by—somehow, all this noise and ambiance is helping.

Maybe a drink will help even more?

A Hand Grenade or a Hurricane would go down well. I walk slowly and casually, heading toward a bar that isn’t brimming with tourists. When my cell starts ringing, I pull it out to see Hoodoo’s name flashing.

My nostrils flare seeing his name, and instantly my stomach flips, tightening in anxiety.

I don’t even know how to talk to him right now.

I need something to take this edge off.

I’ll go back to him.

I just need a beat.

Quickly declining the call, I switch my cell to silent, placing it back in my pocket and turning for the nearest bar—tourists be damned.I make my way in and head straight for the bar.

Red stools line the old wooden bar, and I slide onto a seat and wait to be served. As I check out the array of alcohol lining the glittering mirrored wall, something is poked into my back, a hand lightly pressing on my side as I am urged to slowly get up. “Make a scene, and Hoodoo won’t be the only one with a back problem,” the man says.

I try to glance over my shoulder to see who it is, but they press what I am now assuming is a gun into my back harder. “Uh-uh, eyes straight… walk, Maxine.”

My breathing begins to rush faster, and I do as told, letting the man lead me to wherever he wants me to go. We make our way out of the bar onto Bourbon Street. I try to make eye contact with someone, but everyone is having too much fun or is too drunk to even notice a woman being held hostage and walked down the road by a man wielding a damn gun.

My stomach twists and turns in anxiety as my palms begin to sweat. “Who are you?” I ask.

“A courier,” he replies, turning me down St Louis Street and edging me toward a car parked out the front of a grill joint.

“A courier for who?” I ask.

“We’re going for a drive. I hope you don’t need to use the ladies.” He pulls the car door open, shoving me in the back. Then he pulls out a set of cable ties, and I widen my eyes. “Put out your wrists.”

“Fuck you!” I argue back, wriggling to try and get out of the car, but he pulls his gun up, aiming it at my head, flicking off the safety.

“I said… give me… your wrists. Iwon’task again. I get paid either way, so I don’t care if I have to put a bullet in you…” he glares at me and adds, “… just saying.”

Swallowing heavily, I slowly raise my hands, and he slides the cable ties around them, pulling tighter than necessary. I grimace with the pain as they cut into my skin. The asshole grabs a sack and reaches forward, ramming it down over my head.

My vision is completely gone, and my breathing intensifies as all my senses go haywire. Then the car door slams. My skin prickles with such an intense rush of terror that my head spins, and all I want to do is scream.

But I also don’t want to get shot.

So I sit.

In the back of the courier’s car, bound and practically gagged as the car starts, my body jerking as it takes off. I’m shaking with the fear that’s pummeling through me. If I hadn’t reacted so hastily to finding out Hoodoo was ‘N,’ maybe I would still be with him and not in this mess. I have no clue if I will ever see Hoodoo again at this point, and his last memory of me will be me leaving him.

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