Twisted (louis tomlinson au)

4

        Another day passed and Tom didn't speak to me; not that I minded. It was actually rather relaxing being able to recover without his constant bitching and yelling.

        I woke up that day and immediately headed out for some coffee. Lately I've felt deprived of caffeine, perhaps it was due to sleeping in the room next to Max; who always had a girl over at night. The man breathes so loud you might think he's having an asthma attack in the middle of an orgasm.

        Starbucks was busy, but that didn't stop me from waiting in line for my daily dose of coffee. After the lady handed me the cup with my horribly misspelled name on it, I took a seat at one of the booths towards the back. I had brought my copy of Art of War with me; my favorite book.

        I've read it numerous times to the point of where I can open it at any page, read the first few words, and quote the entire strategy. Perhaps I liked it so much due to my position in this shit storm world. It was a philosophical piece of historical literature and taught useful war strategies that could be applied to any situation in your life. Usually ones involving deception and violence. Aka; my life.

        I sat there for at least ten minutes until I began to feel uncomfortable. I've always been good at sensing if someone was staring at me, thank you hormonal college boys, and the feeling of eyes staring me down was not going away. Over the past three days I've had this uneasy feeling that I've been watched the entire 72 hours. I set my book in my purse, took one last drink of my coffee and threw it into the nearest trash can. Trying not to draw much attention, I left the building and began walking towards a building across the street, American Apparel. Shocking, I never realized they had these store in the UK.

        As I crossed the street, I discreetly looked over my shoulder to see a tan boy with dark brown hair styled into a quiff, following me, who had also coincidentally been inside Starbucks. I took a sharp turn and headed into the closest alley and hid behind a dumpster. I've been in this situation multiple times and knew exactly how to handle it. Quiff boy eventually wandered into the alley, passing me. "Why the fuck are you following me?" I questioned as I stood up from behind the dumpster, drawing the glock from my purse. Thank you Asshole Tom for giving me this.

"How'd you know I was following you?" he asked, turning around to face me and holding his hands  up in surrender.

"I'm always aware of my surroundings."

"Obviously not," he laughed, as I was shoved from behind, causing my gun to fly from my hands. Zayn picked it  up and aimed it towards me.  "Calum, you got this?"

"Yeah Zayn, I can take care of her. You get the car," a voice spoke from behind me, obviously the person who shoved me. "Gabby Girard, I was expecting more of a fight," the kid laughed, an australian accent was present. 

"I'm being kidnapped aren't I?" I asked while holding my hands up in defeat. 

"Pretty much," he replied while still holding the gun towards me.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.

"Depends, are you going to cooperate?"

"Well that depends on why I'm being kidnapped," I chuckled a little.

"Our bosses don't quite like each other, and you're an important asset to his business," he explained. 

        Whoever was in charge and planned this kidnapping was using me to get to Tom and piss him off. Whoever this was didn't like Tom. I could use this to my advantage. I have to use this to my advantage. This is my chance.

"And when Zayn said 'take care of her' you mean, knock me out, tie me up, and carry me in a giant bag to the car?"

"You're a smart one," he laughed.