FUGITIVE

CHAPTER 12

I keep driving in circles until, I have a plan form in my head. I decide that until I get what I came here for, I'm not leaving Valencia. Now that I ditched the phone that they used to track me, I have a clear playing field.

Even if they do find a way to get to me, I'm done running away. I learned to fight for a reason and I'm sure as hell going to use it now.

I drive back to the café that I came from. As I enter the café, I see two men, one who looked just like the guy who tried to shoot me in the market, going through the very computer I sat at. Even though every instinct in my body is telling me to run, as fast as possible, I stand my ground. They stare at me, not knowing what to do. It's possible that they expected me to sprint as soon as I saw them and didn't plan beyond the point of scaring me away.

Well, joke's on them.

~

So, my plan didn't really work out like I thought it would. Sitting bound and gagged in this basement, I'm pretty sure I could have gone through with this in a completely different way.

3 men, fully armed and completely ripped enter the room. If I wasn't in a hostage situation, my reaction to this particular scenario would have been completely different. It seems like they all speak different languages because none of them seem to be understanding each other. Lucky enough for them, I understand all three of them perfectly.

Their voices overlap as I hear snippets of the conversation.

"Deberíamos matarla!"

"Wir sollten sie zum Chef bringen."

"aptal mı?"

So, the Spanish guy thinks they should kill me, the German wants to take me to their boss, who I'm guessing is Javier, and the Turk thinks I'm stupid. Well, he may be right.

I hear their banter for a few minutes until I grow tired of it. I squirm and make noises, until one of them rips the tape of my mouth. Ow.

"Hey!', I yell. "Are you actually going to do something or are you just going to stand there arguing?", I ask them. It may be pretty stupid, but I came here for some action and I'm going to get it.

The German comes at me, brandishing a knife from his back pocket. "You think you are so smart, handing yourself over to us? I can slice your throat, without actually spilling your blood. Or maybe I should cut your fingers, one by one, until you tell me the truth", he tells me, in a really bad accent.

I almost laugh at his empty threats. I nod my head to beckon him closer to me. I bring my lips close to his ear and tell him something that scares the socks off of him. He looks at me with widened eyes and shares worried glances with his partners.

While they're distracted, I slowly loosen the ropes of my wrist. Whoever taught them how to hold someone hostage, obviously did it wrong because who even uses ropes anymore? Tape is definitely more difficult to escape.

I keep my eyes trained on them so there are no sudden movements. As soon as I feel the rope come off, I stay in position not wanting them to know that I'm actually free.

They keep whispering amongst themselves and soon enough the Spanish guy walks over to me. He asks me who I work for and I tell him that I don't know anything, mumbling and stuttering all the way. I ask them to unarm themselves as it scares me. I blame it on my abusive father, whose authority scared me so much, my brain turns to mush when I see weapons. I even let a tear or two escape to fully convince them. The idiots believe my cock-and-bull story and leave their weapons on the table by the door. For bad guys who work for the mafia and drug lords, they're a bunch of chumps.

As soon as they stand over me, I knock their feet from under them and bash their faces into the ground.

One of them stands up and I send a backward kick to his head. As he drops on the ground, the Turk attempts to run towards the table full of their weapons and I stick my foot forward and trip him. He falls on his face and I kick down the middle of his back, holding his head back with full force, and inches away from snapping it. As I'm about to pound it into the ground, the last guy comes running at me and I pull the knife from underneath my boot and slash his chest, watching him stare at the amount of blood pouring out of him.

As he stands there clutching his chest, his pupils dilated from fear, I grab the rest of the rope and tie all three of them to the same pole they tied me too. Just to be extra sure, I grab the tape, hanging in the side and tape them super tight. Amateurs.

I tuck their pistols into the waistband of my jeans and pocket their knives. I tape small pieces of cloth where they're bleeding to stop the blood. It's a ghastly scene and I don't want them to die without answering my questions first.

I pull up a chair and sit in front of them. I cross my leg over the other and wave my pocket knife in front of their terrified eyes. I see the fear dancing in their eyes and I can't help but feel sorry for them. They must have family too. But then, Luca comes into mind and the fireball returns to my chest. It burns so bright that I'm ready to torch anybody who stands in my way.

I slowly drag my knife along the German's chest. He's the one who threatened me, right? So, he goes first.

I smirk at him. How the tables have turned. He might have been yelling empty threats at me, but I intend on following through with each and every one of mine. I see the confusion in his face and I let him have the first question.

As soon as I rip the tape off his mouth, his face turns beet red.

"How do you know the code? How do you know the King?", he asks me.

I smile at him. "I have my sources. My turn. Where is Luca?", I ask.

He shows his ugly yellowing teeth at me. "I don't know any Luca. I come to kill you."

I dig the knife deeper into his chest. As his screams fill the basement, I see myself reflected in the fear in their eyes.

Torture or not, I'm getting my answers tonight. The choice is theirs.