by Kiki Swinson
CLANG!
A loud noise outside interrupted my thoughts and caused me to jump. I clasped both of my hands over my mouth and forced the scream that had crept up my throat back down. Sweat trickled down my face and burned my eyes. My heart jackhammered against my chest bone so hard it actually hurt. My stomach knotted up so tightly the cramps were almost unbearable. I dropped my head. Suddenly I felt like vomiting.
“I don’t see her! She’s not down here!” I heard one of the goons outside of the door scream to the others. I swallowed hard and started praying under my breath.
Dear God, I am sorry for all of the things I’ve done. I don’t know how things got so far gone. I never meant anything by any of it. I just wanted to live a better life than I had as a child. I guess with the mother You gave me and the hand You dealt me, I should’ve just handled it. I should’ve worked harder and not try to take the easy way out all of the time. I knew stealing is wrong. Since the first time I stole a credit card from my foster mother’s purse, I’d known it was wrong. But I got addicted to the feeling that I’d gotten over on someone. I felt powerful. I remember the times I’d hear her talking to my foster father about some of the fraud scams she witnessed by working as a bank manager. It was interesting to hear how bank and credit card frauds were being committed on a daily basis. It all seemed too easy, too intoxicating. I had to test the waters....
So here I am today. I’m literally running for my life. Maybe this is Your way of teaching me a lesson. Trust me, I hear You loud and clear. If You let me get out of this, I swear I will change my life. I don’t even know how things got this far . . .
MAT
“Ooof,” I gagged as another fist slammed into my stomach causing all of the wind in my body to involuntarily escape through my mouth. Acidy vomit leapt up into my throat and spewed out of my mouth right after.
“Hit ’em again!” a deep baritone voice commanded. With that, another sledgehammer-sized fist slammed into my left jaw. I felt the blood and spit shoot from between my lips. The salt from the blood stung the open cuts on my split bottom lip.
“Until he tells me where the fuck every dime of my money is I want his ass to suffer,” the deep voice growled. “Break every bone in his body if you have to.”
“Agh!” I belted out as a heavy-booted foot crashed down on my ribcage. I think hearing the crack and crunch of my own bones disturbed me more than the excruciating pain I felt.
I coughed and wheezed trying to will my lungs to fill back up with air. Each raggedy breath hurt like hell. I knew then that some of my ribs had been shattered. More fury came right after.
“Ugh!” I coughed as a front kick with a pointed, steel-toe boot slammed into my back. I swore I heard my spine crack. My insides felt like they were being shuffled around by the punches and kicks I’d been subjected to since these dudes had snatched me from my hideout in the thick of the night. I had tried to bounce before they could get me, but I was too slow. Thank God Lauren had up and left or else she would’ve been there when they broke the door down to get me. Although I wanted to kill her myself right now, I could only pray that she was someplace safe . . . maybe with the police or back on the run. But if these dudes were after me, I would think they would be after her and Yancy as well.
“Where is my fucking money!” the voice boomed again. This time, I forced my battered eyes open and looked at the sharply dressed man that was standing over me. In dim light I couldn’t make out his face. But I could see from the flash of his sparkly diamond pinky ring, solid-gold cufflinks, and a clearly expensive tailor-made suit, this dude hadn’t even broken a sweat. He obviously took great satisfaction in commanding his goons to torture me over and over. And like good little soldiers, they did just enough to hurt me, but not kill me.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Matthew Connors . . . what the fuck did you and your bitch do with my fucking money?” the boss man growled. His money? Me and my bitch? What the . . . It finally hit me like a hammer to my head. My entire body went cold like my veins had been injected with ice water. The score that was supposed to put me back in the game and set me and my woman up for life had turned into my worst nightmare.
The man who’d been our mark let out a raucous, maniacal laugh. “You petty fuckin’ thief,” he spat as he moved closer to me. “Stealing instead of going out there and working for your own shit. I can respect a man that hustles for himself, but a man who steals from another hardworking man is a waste of fucking sperm. Your mother should’ve just swallowed.”
The heat of anger that lit up my chest from his words was probably enough to make me kill him with my bare hands. I bucked my body out of anger but that just made shit worse....