––––––––
“Welcome home, Lisbeth.”
The voice sent a familiar chill down my spine. I sought him out immediately. The boss sat in a plush armchair in the corner of the room. When I met his eyes, he gave me a cold, steely smirk.
Some people on the streets called him “The Swede.” In truth, he’d been born in Buffalo, New York, sometime in the mid ‘70s. But he had this purely emotionless, Nordic look about him that intensified his mystique. Nobody knew his real name, not even me. Us True Northers simply referred to him as “Boss.”
He reminded me of a T-rex. There was no humanity in his pale eyes, only predation. I tried not to flinch. “This isn’t my home,” I said.
My throat squeezed shut when I saw a flash of anger pass over his face. For a moment, I thought I’d said the wrong thing. But then, the Boss began to chuckle.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten how insolent you are. To tell you the truth, it’s quite refreshing.”
He waved his hand so smoothly that it barely wrinkled his silk shirt. Then, Jameson stepped forward and grasped my wrists. The sound of a switchblade whipped through the air, then I heard its scrape against the nylon rope binding my hands. My fingers tingled when the pieces fell to the ground.
I pulled my hands forward and flexed them in front of me.
“You must be wondering why I called you here,” the Boss began.
“I know why,” I said.
The Boss gave me a nod. “Then, I’d love to hear your explanation of what happened all those months ago. When you stole from me.”
The first drops of sweat formed on my brow. The Boss’s glare was as intense as the harsh dome light of an interrogation room, and Jameson’s presence didn’t help any, either. This was some sort of test, I could feel it. But what was the answer he was looking for?
I tried to nudge him in a different direction. “Where’s Anna?”
“She’s safe somewhere on this property,” the Boss answered, “although I can’t say the same for your other compatriots.”
It took a moment for me to realize what he meant. Of course. Two other guys had been in on the cargo-jacking plot with Anna. Apparently, True North had caught up to them. They were probably dead.
“Then why keep Anna alive? Why not do her like you did my ‘compatriots’?”
The Boss quirked an eyebrow.
“To get me to come back,” I realized out loud.
The Boss snarled his upper lip, a chilling facsimile of a smile. “You’re certainly smarter than you give off, Lisbeth.”
“But why me?” I prodded again.
The Boss sighed impatiently, breaking his composure for the first time. “You know very well that nobody steals from me. The ones that do—” he tipped his head toward Jameson “—are made examples of.”
Suddenly, I felt a sharp blow at the back of my head. I cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor, my vision turned black. There was a heavy thud, followed by a burning sensation in my scalp as Jameson grabbed my hair. He yanked me back up, forcing me onto my knees.
I blinked a few times, trying to focus on the wobbling image of the Boss in front of me. When my vision cleared, I could discern a look of pure rage twisting his aquiline features.
“I lost a lot of money because of that shipment. Money that you couldn’t see in ten lifetimes. Money that you’ll never pay back, even if you had a thousand men lined up to fuck you.”
He gave some sort of signal to Jameson, who shoved me back to the ground. I landed on my cheek just before he kicked me in the ribs. I coughed as all the breath in my lungs left my body. Hot, bruising pain tore into my side.
I turned my face into the carpet. Where are you? I thought. I heard the distant chimes of a clock in another room. Fifteen minutes must’ve gone by since Jameson closed that door. How much time did Gabriel need?
I groaned, trying to catch my breath. Somehow, I had to keep the Boss talking long enough for a mutiny to happen. “I guess it wouldn’t help if I told you I had no idea what they were planning.”
“No, it wouldn’t help at all,” the Boss said, his tone deceptively calm.
I stiffened as I anticipated another kick. It never came.
“But rather than admit what happened right off the bat, you ran away,” he continued on. “Emotions dictate our behavior, Lisbeth, and your behavior suggests that you were feeling guilty.”
“Not guilty. I was afraid!”
Jameson kicked me again, this time in the shoulder. His boot collided with my bone. I felt a sharp crunch of pain followed by numbness. I bit into my lip until I tasted blood. I called out to Gabriel with my mind.
I had to keep him talking.
“Where’s Anna?” I asked again.
I curled up as I sensed Jameson rearing back for another kick, but the Boss clicked his tongue. After a few seconds of calm silence, I dared to lift my face off of the floor.
“We’ll take you to her right now, since you insist,” he said.
Jameson pulled me up by my hair again. My entire body ached, and I almost expected it to fall apart like a disassembled doll. There was no need for bindings; I was too limp to move as Jameson half-dragged me to the door and kicked it open.
The hallway outside was completely deserted.
I knew something was wrong when Jameson turned right rather than left, taking me deeper into the house. Everything in the house was silent, was lifeless. The flames on the candles were still, as if they were whispering conspiratorially with the air. There were no signs of any Skull Kings.
Even the Boss noticed.
“Where is everybody?” he wondered aloud as he followed us across the living room.
“Probably dicking around out in the desert,” Jameson muttered. “I’ll handle them after we take care of this.”
This. Like I was a bag of garbage about to be disposed of. As Jameson stopped momentarily to open a sliding back door, I was flooded with a sudden sense of finality. A breeze rushed in as the door slid open, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the last time I’d breathe fresh air.
One last time, like that last kiss. Gabriel hadn’t been counting on seeing me again, at all.
He left me.
A million thoughts were roaring around in my head. I was all alone now. If I screamed, would it help? If I fought? Did I stand a chance at all?
Jameson pushed me out onto the back patio. I landed on a rough, granite surface and heard a soft cry. But it wasn’t my own.
I spotted Anna a few feet away, arranged on her knees with a rectangle of duct tape over her mouth. Her hands were bound in front of her chest. The phrase, Say your prayers, floated thinly through my mind.
Jameson dropped me next to her. I glanced at her face and saw nothing but sheet-white skin and wild, terrified eyes. My heart pounded. I began to shake.
“Any last words?” the Boss said in his razor-cold voice.
My skin felt hot and cold at the same time. I scanned the desert quickly, looking for light glancing off of leather and chains. I listened for a boot on gravel, the cock of a gun, but I heard nothing. I heard silence, the sound of abandonment.
“So be it,” the Boss snarled. “Hands on your head.”
Anna gave a helpless squeal, muffled by the duct tape. But I merely complied. It took all the strength I had left in my body to raise my arms. I was still shaking, but there was a cooling calm inside of my body. It was almost like relief.
I didn’t have to run anymore.
Part of me wanted to look behind me, at least see who was holding the gun. I didn’t dare to. That was the fear of mortality in me, and I had to let it go.
I closed my eyes.