Rambling seemed to be how my body chose to deal with the adrenaline still rushing through me. With my wrists bound, my borrowed gun lost somewhere in front of the villa, there was nothing I could do to physically harm anyone; my only line of defense was my nature.
I hadn’t met anyone who didn’t eventually indulge my verbal diarrhea in some way. These guys were dangerous, a fact I was well aware of — not because they wereactually lethal, but because they seemed to have no idea what they were doing.
Uncertainty could turn into panic fast and panic could lead to rash decisions — trust me, I would know.
My best chance of survival was to keep them talking, throw surprises their way, and kill them with kindness. Figuratively speaking, of course. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to kill anyone.
Fingers crossed.
They bristled. “Of course we have a plan.”
“Great! Does it involve a seating arrangement? It’s getting kind of uncomfortable to stand around like this.” I nodded down at my heels.
A poorer choice in footwear has never been made.
They exchanged a glance. One of them shrugged and kicked an empty crate in my direction. Not exactly a comfy chair, but I’d take it. Anything to save my feet from these toe-murdering shoes.
Speaking of murder…
I eyed the heels, trying to ascertain whether they could be used as a weapon if I ever got my wrists free.
Pompadour fished his phone out of his pocket, tapped and swiped on the screen and eventually appeared to be FaceTiming somebody.
“Let’s call him now,” the other one demanded. I’d dubbed him “Angry Chihuahua” because he was loud andseemed to be shaking with excitement, but he seemed harmless overall.
Pompadour shot him an irritated look. “Iamcalling him.”
“No, you’re on the camera thing—”
“That is the call,pendejo!”
This call could possibly buy me time. Time was good. Time meant Sasha was getting closer. If anyone at the villa survived, he would already be looking for me.
God, he’s going to lose his shit.
A moment later, the phone chimed and Pompadour immediately straightened up and held it out like a soldier reporting to a general.
I couldn’t see the screen where I was sitting on the crate, but I could faintly hear a man’s voice crackling through the speaker.
“Yes?” the voice said.
Pompadour cleared his throat importantly. “Rafael! How are you?”
The man on the other end of the line sighed in exasperation. “What do you want?”
“We got you a gift.”
There was a short pause. “Javier, I really don’t have time for this right now. What kind of gift?”
The kidnappers shoved the phone in my face like I was a prop in a stage performance. I jerked my head back and nearly fell off the crate when the screen almost hit me inthe face, but I caught myself before I fell onto the dirty floor.
“The Russian’s girl,” Pompadour said proudly, turning the screen his way again.
Silence followed. A really long, uncomfortable silence. The kind that stretched just enough to make everyone feel slightly uneasy.
Then the voice on the phone hissed, very quietly, “You goddamn, motherfucking stupid idiots.”
Angry Chihuahua stiffened.