Chapter Ten
Phoenix
Swimming back to consciousness isn’t much more pleasant the second time around.
My mouth is dry and I move my tongue around, trying to stir up any sort of moisture. Thankfully, while the taste of vomit still lingers, I’m pretty sure it’s just a remnant of when I’d vomited before. I don’t think I threw up again when I passed out the second time.
As before, I can hear the voices of my kidnappers. I feebly shift my head to try to see how many of them are in the room with me and where they’re located.
Oh. That’s...different. Instead of still being seated in a chair next to the table, I’m now lying in a crumpled heap on the cool and dirty cement floor. Whatever. I still want to take stock of my surroundings and ascertain my current danger level.
My hair is already filthy, but a small part of me still despairs at what further dirt I’m depositing in it as I arch my neck, shifting my head this way and that, until I catch sight of someone. With me lying on my side, the angle is odd but there’s no mistaking the way Blond Guy has his arm pressed across Tattooed American Guy’s chest or the way he’s pinning him against the wall of the hallway just outside the entrance of the room.
I don’t think they meant for me to hear them, but they probably assumed I’m still unconscious, so they aren’t speaking all that quietly. I’m able to hear Blond Guy ask angrily, “The police? What do you mean, Silva told you he saw several small police patrols poking around in this section of town?”
I’d certainly be scared shitless to be on the receiving end of Blond Guy’s current ire, but Tattooed American Guy doesn’t seem all that concerned. He glances down at Blond Guy’s arm braced against his chest then aims an amused, raised brow look at his taller, broader, fellow kidnapper.
“Whaddya want me to say, Mueller? All I’m doing is repeating what Silva told me. Figured it might be something we need to know about.”
Blond Guy spits out several what I’m going to assume are curse words in a foreign, Germanic-esque language. He shoves Tattooed American Guys harder against the wall, who grunts out an oomph. Then Blond Guy removes his arm and steps away, pacing back and forth several steps.
After several moments of agitated pacing, Blond Guy takes several slow breaths, clearly trying to calm himself. He rolls his neck from side to side a few times and turns back around to face Tattooed American Guy. Tattooed, meanwhile, has been watching Blond Guy’s agitated movements with a faintly amused expression on his face–like he’d been observing a tiger behind glass at the zoo.
There’s still a thread of annoyance in his voice, but for the most part, Blond Guy sounds collected and controlled when he speaks again. “I’m correct when I say that we have yet to hear back from Charles Wilding, yes?”
“Not a single, solitary fucking peep,” Tattooed American Guy responds.
“Then now is not the ideal time for the police to be wandering around. We’re going to have to relocate to our secondary location, just to be on the safe side, and we still need to get the video of younger Mr. Wilding begging. Granted, I allowed for some leeway in the timetable for this job, but I am not happy with how tight our schedule is getting.”
Tattooed American Guy looks only moderately interested as he asks, “So, we are packing up and relocating because of all the cops roaming around?”
Blond Guy’s hand flicks negligently through the air as he replies, “It’s probably not necessary, but I’d rather exercise an abundance of caution than have our carefully constructed plot foiled by some imbecilic police officer who got lucky.” He pauses and his eyes go slightly out of focus while he thinks. Then he autocratically states, “Take your equipment and go make sure the other location is ready for us. Rodriguez and I can secure our precious cargo and get him transferred over. And when I see Silva, I’ll let him know that he should figure out a way to refocus the police’s attention, so they won’t have the opportunity to see us moving our operation elsewhere.”
“And the other one?” Tattooed American Guy asks. “Are we taking him or leaving him here?”
Blond Guy’s scoffing reply lances sharp and hot through me. “That one is completely expendable. Why don’t we just leave him where he is? He can rot away in that box. Or maybe I’ll let Rodriguez play with some matches and she can set this whole place ablaze on our way out. Take care of covering any evidence of our several week occupation of this place and one unnecessary young man at the same time.”
I’d been enjoying being overlooked and ignored while they thought I was still unconscious. The less my kidnappers’ attention is on me–particularly Blond Guy’s attention–it seems like the greater my odds against incurring further injury. But I’m not going to quietly lay here on the floor while Blond Guy casually suggests Jackson’s murder.
“No.” The word is barely louder than a whisper and it certainly doesn’t travel all the way across the room to gain their attention.
So, I carefully and painfully prop my uninjured hand on the floor and use it to push myself up until I’m almost in a seated position. Then I clear my throat and try again.
“No.” This time they hear me, and two heads swiftly turn in my direction. With their attention on me, I try to sound commanding as I lay out what I think is going to happen with Jackson. “You’re not going to harm a single hair on Jackson’s head. If we... If I am getting moved to a new location, Jackson is coming too. And whatever amount his ransom is, the amount he doesn’t have anyone able to pay for him...I’ll pay it. Add it to what you’re asking my father for me. And in addition to getting a richer payday than you’d be getting otherwise, no more resistance on my part. I’ll fully cooperate with whatever you want me to do.”
One of Blond Guy’s brows raises and looks at me with what appears to be curiosity. His voice is quiet and thoughtful as he comments, “Well. It appears that Mr. Delacroix is not as useless as I’d thought.”
I’m a bit confused over why Blond Guy’s statement causes Tattooed American Guy to laugh. Although, he quickly tries to hide his laughter by pressing a fist against his mouth and turning it into an incredibly fake sounding cough.
I’m also a touch disappointed that the person I learned Jackson’s last name from is one of our kidnappers and not Jackson himself. It hadn’t really seemed like much of an oversight, Jackson not mentioning it, until just now. Is that detail just something he’d forgotten to tell me, or something he deliberately hadn’t offered? Part of me is urging me to give him the benefit of the doubt. Another part of me—the cynical, used to people using me because of who I am part of me—is arguing that I really don’t know the man who has been my constant, unseen companion these past days while I was stuck in a cage.
But no matter. I have more important things to do right now. Like maintaining eye contact with Blond Guy, the clear ringleader of this whole escapade, and engaging in a silent battle of wills with him. And projecting an unbroken facade of confidence and determination until Blond Guy realizes I’m completely serious about my counteroffer. And then following through if–when–Blond Guy goes with my option rather than his own.
Without breaking eye contact with me, Blond Guy snaps his fingers and then dismisses Tattooed American Guy with a wave of his hand.
“How determined are you that Mr. Delacroix also remains as our guest, Mr. Wilding?” Blond Guy asks. A small crease forms between his brows as he stares at me and awaits my answer. “Because I will be charging you, or rather your father, for the inconvenience. And it won’t be cheap.”
I’ve been staring down arrogant businessmen–some of them often twice my age or more–since I started working for my father’s company. And I know better than to let even a moment’s doubt reflect on my face or in my voice. Those are like blood in the water for a fucking shark.
So, I don’t hesitate for a moment to emphatically reply, “Very.” I go ahead and let some of my own arrogance bleed through as I add, “And I’m not at all concerned with how much it’ll cost. Ask for whatever amount you think you can get. You’ll get it.”