Agent Jones- Book One

| Chapter Two |

I was taken very far out of town to an abandoned warehouse, where there were at least 20 more goons waiting. My only guess was that their boss man was in the building too. I was led very harshly through the building, hands bound with rope behind my back and a gag in my mouth. They led me through the building and down a few flights of stairs, before we finally went into a room.

The only thing in this room was a metal chair, and I was taken over to it. My hands were retied around the chair, and my gag was removed. I thought I felt dried blood on the back of my chair, and resisted the urge to gag.

"What are gonna do?" I asked in a confident, tilting my head over to the side. These idiots were not about to know that I was a bit scared. So I kept my gaze very focused and sharp on the man standing right in front of me.

The guy laughed. "Not me," was all he said. He and the other goons left the room, leaving me alone to think about what could possibly happen. The goon had said 'not me', so clearly someone else does the interrogating. My money was on the boss man.

As if on cue, the door opened again and a very formal looking man stepped in the room. Everything about him was dark- his skin, eyes, the hair peaking out from under his fedora. He was dressed in a nice, black suit with thin white stripes, and had a black tie to go with it. There was something about this man that said 'pimp' and 'crime boss.' He was flanked by at least four other men on each side. There were very few men in the Miami area who had a presence like this man did.

"I'm going with you're the boss?" I asked him. He smiled and I saw some gold teeth in his mouth.

"What gave it away," he asked, chuckling. He had a very New Jersey accent, and I wondered what the hell a Jersey boy was doing in Miami. At least his appearance made a bit more sense. He snapped his fingers and one of his bodyguards brought forth a chair for the boss man to sit in. He sat down and crossed a leg over the other, like some sort of proper man. I was very confused on what he was trying to be; tough guys usually didn't cross their legs like a lady at a fancy restaurant, but that's what he did.

"The name's Henry Edwards. You may have heard of me, but I doubt you've gotta picture in that pretty little file room of yours at the SSR. Speaking of," he stood again and started to pace slightly. "You need to give me some information about that little place, a'ight? It's the only way you'll make it out alive."

Now it was my turn to laugh. Mr. Edwards looked very confused, and so did the bodyguards, although they started looking confused when Mr. Edwards was talking about what he wanted from me. I ignored it for now and gave Mr. Edwards a sarcastic smile. "It's honestly really funny that you think I'd tell you anything. I was trained for situations like this; you're not getting a peep outta me Mr. Edwards," I responded.

However Mr. Edwards smiled back, and stepped towards me. "You know, he told that about you. But you also need to know that I will use any tactics I need to in order to get what I want. Any tactics." The threat was very obvious, but I was holding my ground nonetheless with a bored expression on my face.

Mr. Edwards looked pissed at my uncooperativeness. Must've thought I was going to break, but sadly he was wrong. Whomever the previously mentioned 'he' was clearly didn't know me well enough. "Fine. We're doing it your way. Jerry!" A bodyguard came forward. This one- Jerry- was very big. He was not only tall, but pretty buff too. It wasn't hard to guess he was the one who did the dirty work. "You know what to do."

It started out with just some slapping, him squeezing my arms to where they'll be bruised, and some choking. It escalated to some kicks in the shin and punches to the stomach, and those hurt like the devil, but I still didn't crack. It was when we were getting into gut punches that Mr. Edwards had enough.