Page 69 of Fight or Flight
I’m coming, baby. I just hope that it’s not too late.
I move away from the car, trying to look casual and go around the corner to wait for the right time. When it’s twelve o’clock, I cross the street in the direction of the white mansion half-hidden behind a tall fence and nicely trimmed hedges and confidently strut toward the back gate. The whole layout of the place is still vivid in my memory from the time Brody pulled it up on his laptop this morning.
I honestly don’t know how he managed to gather so much info on such short notice, but I guess thirty grand will open some doors for a man.
Three guys dressed the same as me already stand there, chatting about yesterday’s game, and I know the exact moment when they spot me because the conversation stops mid-sentence, and they all adopt a confrontational stance.
“Hey,” I nod casually.
“Hey,” the closest one to me replies. “You new here?”
“Nah, man. Just switchin’ from the night shift.” I say confidently, grateful for my time in prison for the first time since it taught me how to speak with guys who are trying to pick a fight.
“Droppin’ in for Luke?” The man asks, and I know better than to answer directly. For all I know, Luke can be a made-up name.
“Don’t know the name. The boss said to be here at noon, so here I am.”
“Leave him be, Six,” the shortest of the three says, shaking his head like he’s fed up with his colleagues’ territorial behavior.
“Come on then,” the third guy says and makes a step toward the digital panel that will open the gate.
The first man, named Six, I guess, stops him with a hand to the chest, still looking suspicious. “No. Let the new guy do it.”
I shrug, trying to look unbothered, but it’s hard to contain the slight shake of my hand. I try to punch in the numbers provided to me by Brody as fast as possible before the other men notice.
There’s a moment when the system lags, and my heart stops just for a fraction of a second. The vision of alarms blaring and bullets piercing my body enters my brain, but I soon relax when the small light above the panel turns green, and the door buzzes open.
I let them go first and then, as smoothly as possible, put the tape on the door mechanism just as Brody showed me, pretending that I have trouble closing the gate properly, and then come face to face with Six.
“Problem?”
“No, man. Just this fucking door always jammin’. Drives me fuckin’ nuts,” I say grumpily and move past him.
Please, don’t go and check. Please, don’t go and check.
The guy falls into step with me and looks more at ease.
“I told the boss there’s a problem with that gate, but you know, Serg. Always has more important things to do than listen to his staff whining.”
I hum in my throat and follow the pair going ahead. When we enter the house, I scan the place briefly, trying to look like I’ve seen it a thousand times before, and just as my companions march confidently through the corridors.
I must admit that the mansion’s interior is impressive, and it’s obvious the brothers don’t suffer from lack of funds. The rooms we pass all look like they are straight from a house design magazine, but you can still see that someone actually lives here. It only further proves that Brody was right that this is the actual place where Sergio and Nico live if the giant fence and swarm of security guards weren’t already a strong argument for that statement.
The brothers have three other, bigger mansions under their name, yet this one stood out among the others. First, it’s not so in your face as the other buildings, and could just look like a house of people that enjoy their privacy. Secondly, it was officially bought by their cousin a year ago. However, the man himself is currently serving time in federal prison. And have been doing that for almost five years. So, it was a bit surprising to find that this was the only place that appeared to have a full staff on the payroll. Ramirez hired a cleaning company, and there are many bills proving that they ordered food and other ‘services’ here.
We know all of that from Brody’s secret contact.
It pains me to think about the money because I would have to sell an organ to get that amount. If it weren’t for Brody and Jenny, I’d be fucking useless in a situation like this. My bank account can attest to how poor I am.
But if the provided information checks out and helps me save Claire, then I don’t care if it takes me my whole life to work for Brody as a literal slave to pay this debt as long as I find her safe and sound. As long as I have her with me.
I’m not sure what position I should take in the house, so I just let the other guys go to their designated spots and greet the other men who can leave their posts and go home.
I hope Brody had enough time to slip through the gate unnoticed. I wait for my phone to vibrate with a message, but it’s staying annoyingly unmoving in my pocket.
He’s supposed to message me when he gets in. Then, when he’s ready for my move, and the third time, when he gets her. The plan is for me to create a distraction while he finds the basement, get Claire if she’s actually there, and get her out before anyone finds out what happened.
Finally, the first message comes through, and I secretly peek at my phone.