Femme Fatale

Chapter Eight: Gone Girl

It was a humid summer night. Twinkling city lights illuminated the black sky, and the faint honking of car horns and drunken voices polluted the warm air. Jo was fast asleep in her twelfth floor apartment, oblivious to the bustling city below her. 

Oblivious to the three dark figures outside her bedroom window.

Using a glasscutter, a man in a face mask carved out a perfect circle from the window. He popped it out, then reached a gloved hand through the opening and unlocked a latch. He opened the window, and the men climbed into the apartment silently. They were professionals.

Jax, Frank, and Michael stood at the foot of Jo's bed, watching her sleep. Jax nodded to the others, but at that moment, Jo began to stir.

The men had broken into the apartment without a sound, but a light draft from the open window had kissed Jo's face, causing strands of her hair to tickle her cheeks. She gained consciousness.

Jo's eyes flew open to see three dark figures at the foot of her bed. A lesser being would have panicked at the chilling scene before her. But not Jo. Within a split second of waking, Jo flung her comforter at the unwelcome guests and somersaulted out of her bed.

The comforter opened like a parachute towards the men, momentarily blocking their line of vision on the girl.

"What the shit," Frank said.

When the blanket fell to the floor, Jo was grabbing her gun from the nightstand drawer at a breakneck speed.

"Fuck!" Jax yelled.

Just as she was about to cock her gun, Michael wordlessly shot her with a tranquilizer. The dart hit Jo in the neck, and she slumped onto the floor, gun still in hand.

The men exchanged looks, bewildered at what had just transpired.

"We better be careful with this one," Jax chuckled. The other two men collected Jo's unconscious body.

* * * * * *

Thomas and Jake were having a celebratory dinner at a Vegas steakhouse. The two friends had already polished off one bottle of merlot and a second one was on its way. Their cute blonde waitress arrived with their filet mignons. She was wearing a tight black dress that left little to the imagination.

"What a good-looking piece of meat," Thomas said with a wink as she placed his steak onto the table. The waitress didn't respond.

"Filet mignon, rare," she said as she set down Jake's plate, flashing him a pearly white smile. "I hope everything is to your liking."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You can go now," he said impatiently. The blonde's smile turned into a frown, and she walked away in a huff.

"So, she definitely wants your dick," Thomas told Jake. 

Jake laughed. "Not my type."

"Mhm," Thomas replied suspiciously as he crossed his arms. You mean, she's not Jo, he thought to himself. Before he could chastise his friend yet again for breaking bro code, his cellphone vibrated.

Thomas had received a picture message from a blocked number. He opened it.

You have our money. 

We have your sister.

Let's talk.

Thomas's mouth went dry. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't breathe. He just stared at the phone in disbelief.

"Tom. What's wrong?" Jake was legitimately concerned. His friend was rarely at a loss for words, but right now, he was mute, deaf, and dumb.

Thomas looked at Jake with sheer terror in his eyes.

"You're freaking me out, Tom."

Thomas handed his phone to Jake, still unable to speak. Jake looked down at the screen. It was a picture message of Jo, unconscious with duct tape over her mouth.