Page 18 of When Sinners Fear
“What time is it?” I ask as we view the Tesla coils again. I haven’t paid any attention to the time or when I should have left to be home. We must have been here for hours, now I think about it.
“Probably later than you want to hear.”
I check my watch and realise I’ve completely missed dinner time. “I need to go. I’m sorry.” I turn to leave, the urge to rush coming over me, but I don’t want to leave Knox like this. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. Science museum or not, I appreciate the effort today, but I really have to go.”
“I have a car and can drop you home.”
It’s not my preference, but time dictates my answer. My father is going to be so cross. “That would be great, thank you.”
Nodding, he pulls me towards him, and we head towards the exit. The darkness of early evening surprises me as we leave the building after picking up my jacket from the coat check.
“Where’s your car?” I ask.
“Over here.” He leads us in the opposite direction to the small parking lot. We turn down a road, and I see a shiny car parked up and assume it’s his.
Just as we reach it, the screech of tyres breaks the peace of the evening, and I look over my shoulder to see a white van pull up next to us. The doors fly open, and men swarm out. I’m confused, especially when they grab Knox. He shrugs, fights, and swears as they come at him, and all I can do is stand and watch before me. Hands grip my arms suddenly, and everything goes dark as something is pulled over my head.
“Hey, no. No, please. Don’t do this. Knox?” I shout, panic now overriding everything in my head. My hands are jerked behind my back, and plastic ties dig into my wrists. “What’s happening? What are you doing?” I keep screaming as I’m pushed and shoved like a rag doll. I can’t see and lose my balance, stumbling around until I hit metal against my shoulder. Arms wrap around me and lift me clean off the ground and then drop me into the van. “Knox? Hello?” There’s no reply, only the sound of the van door slamming shut. “Knox!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KNOX
Well, this is fucking fun.
I spin into whoever’s hustling me somewhere, fury let loose and intelligence abandoned under this hood. Strong hands leave my side for a few seconds, but another pair lands on me and starts pushing with all their might. Pain lances through my shin, followed by a fist to the side of my skull.
Half buckling at both impacts, they use the advantage to send me sliding across a hard surface. I listen to Peyton’s screaming and hollering, like that might change what’s happening. It won’t. Whatever the hell this is, it’s planned and well-tooled. Nine guys, that I noticed, and a surprise attack. If I wasn’t as pissed as I am about the whole damn scenario, I’d consider complimenting them for aptitude.
A stiff boot lands on my back to hold me down as the truck doors slam, and another one shoves into the side of my face. One set of hands get my wrists tied behind my back, and another delve in my pockets for weapons. They immediately find the blade inside, and then they’re taking my phone with it.
“KNOX?” Peyton screams again. I can’t do anything about her fear at the moment, so don’t bother answering. “Hey, no. Get off me!” They’re probably taking her phone, too, and anything that sends any form of signal to anywhere. “Please. I don’t understand.”
“Go,” someone says.
The truck starts moving under me, and tape gets shoved across my mouth. Considering everything’s gone quiet from Peyton, I’ll assume she’s been taped up too. And that’s it for fuck knows how long. No one says another word, and whoever the hell’s got his foot on my back keeps it there like I’m a goddamn footrest.
A thousand scenario’s run through my mind, a thousand enemies, too. There isn’t an answer to any of it until I hear whoever they’re taking me to. One thing’s for damn sure, it’s nothing to do with Peyton. People like her don’t get in this kind of trouble, unless it’s people like me stealing them. This is something to do with Cortez, and that sets me on a mind trail of our latest acquisitions. Nothing springs into my thoughts of any significance, so I close my eyes and rest. Exhausting myself with fighting won’t help, and fury gets me nowhere until I know who to aim it at.
The journey carries on with nothing but relative silence and the sound of vehicles running by outside. The only thing I can hear that means anything to me is the sniffs of tears coming from somewhere in this truck. They don’t damn well help me understand anything, but I focus on them, nonetheless. It’s not care, nor is it real interest, but it’s something. Comfort maybe. I know women’s tears well. They’re usual in my head. They’re normal. The rest of this bullshit is anything but.
Eventually, the road turns uneven beneath us, and the truck starts slowing to deal with it. My face takes the brunt of the ground barging and banging because of the guys boot now on my neck. Another boot joins in the fun to hold me down some more when we finally pull to a stop, and then the doors are opened. More feet and legs clamber over me, and I feel the sharp slice of Peyton’s heels dig into me on the way past. I’m not even given a chance to walk as I hear them taking her away from me. They lift me, and a whole bunch of fingers grip in tight to keep me contained. They needn’t bother. I’m not using any inch of strength to fight until I know who I’m dealing with.
I’m dumped on the ground after a while, and the hood’s ripped off. The first glance at sight I get involves watching an unknown guy backing out of a cage quickly. The gate on it slams closed instantly, and he levers a key in the lock and keeps backing away. I take everything around me in. There’s barely any light in the room, and from what I can see there’s nothing but this ten-foot cage I’m in, two chairs outside of it, and another cage beside me that Peyton’s been put in.
She scuttles to a corner, hands behind her back, too, and the fear of God in her eyes. She mumbles something through the tape over her mouth. I’m too busy trying to calculate a route out of this to care a damn about that or her at the moment. The options, from what I can see, are fucking limited. The guys that brought us here are gone. This steel around us, whilst old, looks strong as fuck, and there’s not enough light to see any potential for escape.
I look up eventually, searching the roof for some way out. No hope there, either.
Fuck this captive crap.
Rolling down onto the floor, I twist myself until my wrists get under my ass and I can get my hands in front of me. Second call is the tape, and I rip it hard to get it off as painlessly as possible. I take the first real breath I’ve had in however long. Two more long breaths in and it doesn't take me long to get my belt off. I thread it through the ties on my wrist and use it to gain leverage under my foot.
Free from the binds, I stretch and walk the cage to test for weaknesses. Peyton starts muttering again when I’ve tried most of it and I really look at her for the first time. She’s a ball of anxiety and unanswered questions, all screwed up in the corner of her cage. She’s not even looking at me. She’s fixed and focused on something out there in the room, still muttering and mumbling something to herself under the tape. I’d like to say I feel some kind of sympathy or feel the need to help her out of her own tape and binds, but I don’t. Neither is useful to me and screaming hysterics certainly aren’t. She barely means anything other than a virginal fuck I was playing with. Strategy is what I need, and a chance to speak with whoever is playing with me.
The cage door gets kicked several times to test the hinges, and I walk the limited space again a few more times. There’s no new offer of weakness for me to use. We’re trapped in tight, and until some asshole walks through that door and gives me something – information or pain – I’ve got nothing to help either of us with. So, I plant myself at the back of the cage again, distancing myself from her, and focus on the corner of the room that the guys left through. Waiting. It’s all I’ve got.
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