Bad Blood

Chapter 12 - I really don't know how I got myself into this

As the familiar feeling of clarity flows through me I can't help but try to laugh, but now with a hand over my mouth, that's pretty damn hard. It's been too long since someone's held me at gunpoint, the universe has gotten tired of waiting. I mean come on, why can't you just go annoy someone else for a bit? 

"Move and I shoot." The man hisses, digging the gun deeper into my back. Yeah not shit Sherlock. I get it. 

I can still feel the cold blade of my knife against my bare leg. It's still tucked in a hidden sewn in holster inside my overalls. For once I thank my not mother for doing that for me. It could just save my life. 

Something crackles behind me, and I can just make out a voice. 

"There was a kid coming up the stairs." The man hisses and suddenly I understand. He must have an ear piece, and is communicating with someone nearby. Probably a surveillance van, or a rooftop snipper. I can't really think of anything else right now. I'm literally being held at gunpoint. Thinking of possible positions and people this man could be communicating to is not my number one priority at this point in time. 

I try to think of ways I can get out of this, without a massive gun hole in my forehead. I can see the home phone on the kitchen counter, but to get there, try to remember Jacks number and call him would be a little too hard right now. I know that I can't call the police, because there's a 99 percent chance this has to do with my not family and bringing the police into it is probably the worst possible idea. I'd have to explain why this man is in Jack's house, and I'm pretty damn sure that's not something I want to do. 

I look at the home phone again, and the man holding the gun against  my spine hisses something back to the person he's speaking to. If I can just get out of his reach and get him tied up somewhere, I'd be able to call Jack, and ask what the hell's going on. Or scream for help, but like that's a last resort. Screaming will call unwanted attention and unwanted attention calls the police. So, bad idea. 

So to keep this between my not family, and whoever the hell wants to break into my not half brother house, I have to tie this man up, but to do that I probably have to knock him out. The tying up I can do. The knocking out? Not so much. Not because I can't handle a man half my size. Hand to hand combat was never my strong suit. I just never know where put my limbs, and I have a terrible reaction time. It's like my brain just doesn't want to switch on. 

The radio buzzes again, and I can just make out what the other person is saying this time. 

"Just terminate her."

Oh hell no. 

Before the man holding me can even register what's happening, I elbow him in the guts, duck out of the arm holding me by the neck as his stomach adsorbs the shock and grab the hilt of his gun, yanking out the ammo. 

It drop to the floor and I kick it away from us, as the guy uppercuts me with his gun. I fall onto the door dazed. God damn. I try to kick him in the shins as he reaches for the ammo, but as I feared, I moved too late and my foot just misses his shin. The man lunges for the capsule and my body freezes as he goes to slip it back in. I am as good as dead now.

The knife 

Delighted that I'd finally thought of something, I reach into my overalls and yank out my throwing knife. I might suck at hand to hand combat, but give me a knife to throw, and you're going down honey.

The man scrambles to his feet, pointing the gun at me, but in the split second before he grips the trigger and fires it, the throwing knife leaves my fingertips, perfectly positioned in the right spot. It clips the gun, and just the right amount of force propels it out of the man's hand, crumpling the mechanisms. Both weapons pinned to the wall behind my attacker. 

He looks down at me, obviously a little shocked that my throw had been so close to perfect, and I take his split second astonishment to reach for the knife block on the kitchen bench. He stumbles forward to intercept me, but I am already on the move, raising the massive knife block and smacking it down on his forehead, because unfortunately there were no knives in it. 

It took another hit, until he fell to the floor with a slump. I make sure that he was fully out before I drag him to the stair case and tied him up to the banister with the strings of a jumper that was sitting on one of the dining room chairs. I rummage the cupboards, and manage the find some packing tape, which I then use to tie up the mans feet. I tape him better to the banister and put a sliver of tape over his mouth. It shocks me how quickly it was all coming back. This wasn't the first time I had to tie up someone. 

Once I'd emptied the man's pockets, and made sure his hands had been folded behind his back, I made my way over to to the home phone sitting on the kitchen bench, not for one moment taking my eyes off my new hostage. 

It took two calls for Jack to pick up. Once he did I made sure I spoke first.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."