Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 70
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I get to my feet and walk over to her, then pluck an earbud from her ear and lean into whisper. “You’re OK,” I tell her. “You’re gonna be OK.” Bobby was adamant that Ashleigh’s sister be contained. In fact, his exact words were, ‘She’s a wild one.’
She cries harder so I just replace the earbud and she tries to talk through her gag. I think she’s begging me to let her go. But that’s one thing Bobby was very clear about. Do not let them go unless I hear shooting. Because if I hear shooting, the game is over and things got messy.
I’m not sure what that means. Messy. But I don’t need to be Ford to figure out it’s bad.
The woman is not placated by my words, in fact, she’s more distressed than she was before because I probably scared her. She begins to hyperventilate, her breath coming in gasps though her gag, and I almost have my own panic attack with the thought that she might die.
Fuck that. I go back over to her and pull the gag down her chin, letting it hang loose around her neck.
She gasps for breath, making all kinds of strange sounds as she tries to get more air inside her body. “Please,” she gasps between her hitching breaths. “Please, let me go!”
I pull the earbud back out and lean in so she can hear me. “I can’t, now stop being so loud. They might be close by and if they come back here and see you, the whole plan will be ruined.”
“My father is rich,” she pleads with me. “My father will pay you to let me go. Lots of money. My sister’s husband, Ford Aston, is rich too, he can pay you right now, he lives here.”
Oh, f**k. “What’s your name?” I ask in a whisper.
“Amber Li,” she sobs out. “I’m Amber Li. I’m Ford Aston’s sister-in-law. I can pay you, please, just don’t let him get me!”
“Who?”
“Tony! He’s a bad guy, whatever your name is. He’s bad. I tried to tell Ashleigh, I tried to warn her. But she fell for all his charms.”
Tony. “The dead guy?”
“You know him? You know me? My sister? Tony’s not dead,” she insists. “He’s been hiding for months. He lied to Ashleigh—”
“Wait.” I cut her off. “Amber, listen to me. There are two guys here, how would I tell which one is Tony?”
“Two? Oh, God, no. He’s gonna kill him too! He’s gonna kill all of us!”
“Who, for f**k’s sake? Who?”
She’s panicking now. Her breathing is coming in long draws and uneven gasps.
“Amber, please. They’ll be back soon and they’re bringing my friend and Ashleigh and Kate. I need to know what to do!”
“Do they look like brothers?” Her voice is low now, but it might just be that she’s having trouble forming words through her trembling lips.
“Yes, like brothers!”
“Oh God, he’s gonna kill him, he’s gonna kill me, he’ll kill you and your friends and who knows, he might even kill Ash and Kate. Oh God!”
I slap her. Hard, right across her face. She recoils and begins to choke on her panic, so I slap her again, and this stuns her silent. “Look, bitch, I need to know what the f**k I’m up against. Which one is which? How can I tell them apart?”
“Tony is the mean one. The animal. The killer who’s been trained since he was a little boy that revenge is the only answer. And right now, we’re all on his list. We’re all on his hit list because every one of us is standing between him and his property.”
“What property?”
“Ashleigh and Kate.”
I slip her gag back up and scoot away once more.
Holy f**k.
What the hell is happening? Is Bobby really Tony? Did that ass**le lie to Ashleigh and fake his own death? And I just spouted off my theory to him last night and he never answered me.
My panic attack is back in force and so is Amber’s. We sit there together, sucking up air like it’s our last dying breath, and I can’t take it anymore. I grab my phone and bolt down the hallway. There are still walls in this place, not like the condos downstairs. So there are rooms. I try the first door and the handle turns. I push it open and enter, closing the door behind me.
I bend over at the waist and try to calm down, but that’s one of my panic attack defenses. So I do the opposite. I stand up straight and hop up and down, trying to raise my heart rate with something legitimate, instead of the irrational flood of fight-or-flight adrenaline that is now coursing through my body.
After several minutes of hopping my rate evens out. It’s still fast when I count, but I’ve got a legitimate reason for it now. I’m not in a blind panic, I’m doing a mini-workout.
I stop hopping and notice my surroundings.
It’s not dark in here, but not because there’s lights on nor is there light from outside filtering in through the curtains because there’s no windows. It’s light in here because I’m in the security room and there are walls and walls of monitors, but every one of them is white with static. They’ve been disconnected because after tonight, this place obviously never existed. I’m the only record of what’s happening.
I am not cut out for this shit.
I don’t think Bobby is Tony. I think the other guy is Tony. That guy had killer written all over him. Bobby… he fed me a nice dinner. He was understanding and he gave me a chance to save Spencer and not let him walk into a setup blind. He gave me the chance to protect him. All I have to do is make sure Bobby comes out alive. That’s it. Just have his back and things will be cool.
She cries harder so I just replace the earbud and she tries to talk through her gag. I think she’s begging me to let her go. But that’s one thing Bobby was very clear about. Do not let them go unless I hear shooting. Because if I hear shooting, the game is over and things got messy.
I’m not sure what that means. Messy. But I don’t need to be Ford to figure out it’s bad.
The woman is not placated by my words, in fact, she’s more distressed than she was before because I probably scared her. She begins to hyperventilate, her breath coming in gasps though her gag, and I almost have my own panic attack with the thought that she might die.
Fuck that. I go back over to her and pull the gag down her chin, letting it hang loose around her neck.
She gasps for breath, making all kinds of strange sounds as she tries to get more air inside her body. “Please,” she gasps between her hitching breaths. “Please, let me go!”
I pull the earbud back out and lean in so she can hear me. “I can’t, now stop being so loud. They might be close by and if they come back here and see you, the whole plan will be ruined.”
“My father is rich,” she pleads with me. “My father will pay you to let me go. Lots of money. My sister’s husband, Ford Aston, is rich too, he can pay you right now, he lives here.”
Oh, f**k. “What’s your name?” I ask in a whisper.
“Amber Li,” she sobs out. “I’m Amber Li. I’m Ford Aston’s sister-in-law. I can pay you, please, just don’t let him get me!”
“Who?”
“Tony! He’s a bad guy, whatever your name is. He’s bad. I tried to tell Ashleigh, I tried to warn her. But she fell for all his charms.”
Tony. “The dead guy?”
“You know him? You know me? My sister? Tony’s not dead,” she insists. “He’s been hiding for months. He lied to Ashleigh—”
“Wait.” I cut her off. “Amber, listen to me. There are two guys here, how would I tell which one is Tony?”
“Two? Oh, God, no. He’s gonna kill him too! He’s gonna kill all of us!”
“Who, for f**k’s sake? Who?”
She’s panicking now. Her breathing is coming in long draws and uneven gasps.
“Amber, please. They’ll be back soon and they’re bringing my friend and Ashleigh and Kate. I need to know what to do!”
“Do they look like brothers?” Her voice is low now, but it might just be that she’s having trouble forming words through her trembling lips.
“Yes, like brothers!”
“Oh God, he’s gonna kill him, he’s gonna kill me, he’ll kill you and your friends and who knows, he might even kill Ash and Kate. Oh God!”
I slap her. Hard, right across her face. She recoils and begins to choke on her panic, so I slap her again, and this stuns her silent. “Look, bitch, I need to know what the f**k I’m up against. Which one is which? How can I tell them apart?”
“Tony is the mean one. The animal. The killer who’s been trained since he was a little boy that revenge is the only answer. And right now, we’re all on his list. We’re all on his hit list because every one of us is standing between him and his property.”
“What property?”
“Ashleigh and Kate.”
I slip her gag back up and scoot away once more.
Holy f**k.
What the hell is happening? Is Bobby really Tony? Did that ass**le lie to Ashleigh and fake his own death? And I just spouted off my theory to him last night and he never answered me.
My panic attack is back in force and so is Amber’s. We sit there together, sucking up air like it’s our last dying breath, and I can’t take it anymore. I grab my phone and bolt down the hallway. There are still walls in this place, not like the condos downstairs. So there are rooms. I try the first door and the handle turns. I push it open and enter, closing the door behind me.
I bend over at the waist and try to calm down, but that’s one of my panic attack defenses. So I do the opposite. I stand up straight and hop up and down, trying to raise my heart rate with something legitimate, instead of the irrational flood of fight-or-flight adrenaline that is now coursing through my body.
After several minutes of hopping my rate evens out. It’s still fast when I count, but I’ve got a legitimate reason for it now. I’m not in a blind panic, I’m doing a mini-workout.
I stop hopping and notice my surroundings.
It’s not dark in here, but not because there’s lights on nor is there light from outside filtering in through the curtains because there’s no windows. It’s light in here because I’m in the security room and there are walls and walls of monitors, but every one of them is white with static. They’ve been disconnected because after tonight, this place obviously never existed. I’m the only record of what’s happening.
I am not cut out for this shit.
I don’t think Bobby is Tony. I think the other guy is Tony. That guy had killer written all over him. Bobby… he fed me a nice dinner. He was understanding and he gave me a chance to save Spencer and not let him walk into a setup blind. He gave me the chance to protect him. All I have to do is make sure Bobby comes out alive. That’s it. Just have his back and things will be cool.
