Oops

Chapter 3

                                                                                Maya

                “Pull in here,” I muttered to Nani in a low voice. In the back of the van the rock star struggled, making frustrated noises through the gag I’d put in his mouth.

                Nani complied immediately, yanking the steering wheel to the right and pulling into the parking lot of the empty warehouse lot. It used to be my father’s, actually, but he abandoned it after a police raid when I was little. I could still remember him bursting into his office where Antonio and I were playing with Nani, who was barely a toddler back then, grabbing my hand gently and leading me outside to where a limo was waiting to take us away. Seeing the gray building again brought back good memories that made me mad. I didn’t want them to be good; I wanted to hate my father. It’d just be so much easier than this back and forth emotional tug of war every time I thought about him.

                I jumped out before the van came to a stop and yanked open the sliding door. Grabbing Rocky by the forearms, I pushed the gun into his forehead. He stopped struggling immediately and stared at me like he couldn’t believe I knew how to use it.

                “Out,” I ordered. “Try anything funny and I will shoot your brains into next Tuesday.”

                He flinched, and I bit down on the guilt that rose up with the expression. I had respect since birth because I was the daughter of the boss, but I didn’t want people to be scared of me. It’s a controlled crime, I reminded myself. No one was going to get hurt, no matter what he thought. I just had to keep up pretenses.

                I pulled him out of the van, the gun still pressed into the back of his head. It only had one shot. If I had to shoot to get his attention it would be somewhere over his head, and that would be it. After the warning shot, which I didn’t doubt I would have to use, the gun would be empty; but he didn’t know that.

Guiding him with one hand on his arm—damn, the kid was ripped—we entered the warehouse. Inside was musty and dark, perfect for keeping a hostage. Nani and I had already set up shop: a chair to tie him to in a smaller room inside the warehouse, a camera with a tripod, in case we needed more provocation, and a pile of burn phones, because I’ve seen a ton of cop shows and I knew how they worked. Not to mention growing up in a criminal family made you paranoid.

                “Sit,” I told Rocky, pointing to the chair. He glared at me but sat down, awkwardly because his hands were tied behind his back.

                “Untie his hands,” I told Nani in Spanish, “but don’t let him go. He’s probably going to try to escape.”

                She nodded at me and came around the chair. I eyed Rocky, who was eyeing me. “Don’t move,” I told him, raising my gun. “I’m a good shot.”

                He didn’t move as Nani removed his ropes and replaced them with the handcuffs from the table, weaving them between the bars of the chair and fastening him to it. After she was done she stepped back and I lowered the gun, coming up to him and pulling out the gag.

                Rocky coughed a little and glared up at me. I think the whole kidnapping thing was starting to catch up with him, because now he looked mad, like he already had it set in his mind he wasn’t going to cooperate with us. I smiled at him, and his glare intensified.

                “Try to relax , superstar,” I said. “This’ll be over if your brothers can cough up the money, alright?”

                “Am I supposed to believe you’re just going to let me go?” he spat.