Living the Dream

Part 7

I saw nothing more than the gun pointing at me. I wanted to look elsewhere, but I just couldn’t pull away. How could it be that in freaking twentyfour hours he managed the get me in danger at least four times already?! I wanted to curse and scream in frustration, but facing that gun I kept quiet. There had to be a reason for them to be here.

“What the fuck did you do now? And why the heck are you involving me?” I asked Steve in a hushed tone which left no doubt of how angry I felt. 

“It’s not by choice, I swear,” Steve replied. He hands were on his back, probably tied.

“I don’t care if it’s be choice or not. I just told you I don’t want anything to do with you! If this is your sense of adventure, you can keep it, I have not signed up for any of it! I just want to go home and so far you are making it impossible for me to do that!” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice as normal as possible without yelling, though heaven knew I really felt like doing just that. Still I wanted to know what he had done to get these guys to come after us. Maybe there was a possibily to get out of it with my life in tact. 

“So, tell me ,genius, what HAVE you done to get yourself in this situation? Smuggled drugs in my luggage?” I added mockingly because you heard about it all the time; be careful with your suitcases, always keep them in your sight.

I really thought the chances of that happening were close to zero. I couldn't help but  smirk about my comment, a smirk that slowly faded looking from the gunpoint to Steve, to the other two men and back to the gun. They all looked dead serious.

“Where is it?” said Steve. I blinked in shock.

What?! Where was what? Did he really mean-?

“Where is what?” I asked surprised and incredulous. Before Steve could answer, the guy pointing his gun at me said in perfect English: “I have had enough of this. Tell us where it is and you and your friend can walk away from this. No one will get hurt.”

I frowned. "I'm  finding that hard to believe when you're holding me at gunpoint!”

Oh really, I thought, being smart right now? I could feel a certain sense of humor awaken within me. When the situation was dire enough, it always found its way to the surface. And if this wasn’t dire, I didn’t know what qualified as.

“Where is it?” he repeated Steve’s question.

“I don’t know. Have you checked my suitcase?” I replied dryly.

“This is no joke, lady. Of course we’ve checked it.” His gun moved as he spoke.

“Now, you are going to tell me where my shit is, or you will be sorry.” There was no anger in his voice, just a serious tone.

“I’m already sorry,” I countered. I kept hearing words coming out of my mouth. Words that weren’t exactly mine. This was not my usual self. But I couldn’t prevent myself from speaking.

“I’m sorry, because I haven’t got the faintest idea what you want from me. I don’t know where your shit is. I don’t care if you believe me or not. But if I can make a suggestion, I’d rather have you shoot him first before me.” I pointed at Steve, who looked at me as if I had completely lost my marbles for suggesting it. The driver, who was holding Steve at gunpoint, smirked evil like. So the idiot did know English.

“He’s probably the idiot responsible for losing it,” I added pointing at Steve again, “as I really have no clue it was in my luggage in the first place!” The guy pointing his gun at me grinned.

“That’s cold, lady. But I like the way you think. So, Steve, anything to add before Cenec blows you head off? Your lady friend doesn’t seem to like you very much. She wants to see you dead. How cool is that?” Steve hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I had suggested it.