A New Ride Begins

Chapter 18

The plan might have worked, but my God, it was a damn stupid plan.

All I can think about when I come to is that I must be a damn fool for getting myself wrapped up in this bullshit.

My hands are bound behind me and my body is propped up in a metal folding chair. This is the darkest room I have ever been in. I can't see a thing, but I can hear brusque voices beyond the black.

My head throbs where that big bastard hit me with the butt of his gun. I can feel the itchiness of dried blood on my neck, and the heaviness of it clumped in my hair.

"Hey!" I scream to no one. "Hey!"

I hear the talking cease, and take a deep breath. The door knob jiggles as someone on the other side grabs it. Then, it releases slowly, and the three men from before crowd the opening. My eyes fight against the light that pours through the door. I squint, trying to make out the shadows that stand in the door way blocking the light.

"Look who's finally awake," the smallest guy says.

I blink against the brightness as they take a slow step inside. My eyes are adjusting slowly, but at least they're adjusting.

"Look, man. I wasn't trying to cause any problems okay?" I reply, the hands behind my back struggling with the rope.

My wrists burn where the rope is too tight. My head's throbbing. I just want out of this. The reality that this can all get worse in a split second is way too real.

"But you did," the big one replies.

"I was just trying to make a buck. Like I told you guys earlier, I'm not a dealer. I sold some personal stash so that I could put some gas in my bike and keep moving. I won't be a problem for you. As soon as you let me go, I'm outta here. I promise."

"What's your name?" a different voice asks, one I don't recognize and am sure I've never heard before.

I tilt my head to the side, watching as the three men allowed another to shove them out of the way to step inside the concrete room.

"James. James Vanderbuilt."

"What are you running from James?" he asks, taking another step in my direction.

"Aside from you guys? A warrant in Texas."

"For what?" he inquires.

"Assault and battery," I reply, as if I am ashamed of the lie I so easily tell them.

The man laughs lightly to himself and flips a switch on the wall, illuminating the room in a bright, florescent light.

"How old are you?" he asks, taking another step toward me as he crosses his arms over his lean chest.

He's a tall guy, at least 6'2. His build doesn't hold much muscle, but his demeanor exudes confidence. I must admit; he's probably more intimidating than any of these other ass-hats.

"23," I reply.

The man nods.

"Untie him," he commands the men behind him.

I sigh, trying to appear grateful, even though my insides are twisted like pipe cleaners and my heart is pounding a million miles a second.

The biggest guy goes behind me and loosens the ropes, letting them drop to the concrete ground.

I bring my wrists in front of me, gently rubbing the sore spots.

"I'm going to go talk to my boys for a few seconds. You just hang tight," the new guy says, sounding friendly and with a crooked smile on his face.