Now is not the time to freeze. My heart pounding in my throat, I feel the last tightness in the ropes around my wrists falling away. So close. If I can get the gun away from him . . . . It’s not impossible. Just another minute . . . .
“Let’s start with, what the hell are we doing out here, you crazy pieces of shit?” Julia snaps. She actually stomps her foot.
Christ. Keep calm. Don’t antagonize the man with the fucking gun.
The Russian human tank laughs. I mean he guffaws, actually tilting his head back towards the sky. Overconfident ass. “Puny woman think we crazy,” he tells his friends, who start laughing and knee-slapping right along. Good. Show contempt for your hostages. “But perhaps it is puny woman who go crazy. When my men and I each take a turn.”
Fuck. Every hair on my body raises up. The adrenaline is making the corners of my vision turn sharp and bright.
I will make you eat that gun, motherfucker. I need a minute to prepare, let the rope fall, and then—
“Fuck you!” Julia screams. She dashes forward, hands still tied behind her back, and stomps her wedge sandaled heel hard onto the asshole’s foot. She gets him right in the instep, a confident move. He curses, but before he can blast her she high kicks straight into his crotch. The guy’s eyes seem to bug right out of his sockets, and . . . he drops the gun.
Julia, you crazy fucking genius.
“Girl loose,” one of the thugs shouts. It’s the one standing right next to me, and I turn around, my hands now free.
“She is,” I say, in full agreement. Then I punch the dickhead right in the face. My knuckles immediately explode in pain, and I swear I feel blood running down my fingers, but hopefully nothing is broken. I duck and dodge the attackers, rolling in the dirt to grab the gun while Julia continues kicking the shit out of the biggest guy’s side.
There I am, with a gun in my hands. It’s like I snap back to sanity. What the fuck am I doing? I don’t even know how to use one of these goddamn things.
“Hold it on him!” Julia shouts, dodging around the guy and circling back behind me. She grunts as she struggles to get out of the rope tied around her wrists. So I hold up the damn gun and aim it at the mobster’s chest.
“Don’t fucking move,” I tell the guy on the ground. “Now. What the hell is going on?”
The dude sits up, groaning and rubbing his head. Then he says, in a perfectly normal American accent, “The fuck is wrong with you people? Jesus, I think I got a lump the size of a goddamn egg.” He moans and winces as he touches the side of his scalp. He then glares up at Julia and me. “You maniacs shouldn’t be allowed to drive a car, let alone hire people for role play!”
“Hold on,” I say, blinking rapidly and bringing down the gun. “We hired you? Role play? What?”
Have I lost what precious little of my mind I still have?
“Are you kidding me with this?” the guy says, looking over to the others in amazement.
I watch as they each pull their balaclavas off, shooting Julia and me sullen, dirty looks. They seem like completely normal guys, with patchy beards, pale skin, and slight double chins. It’s like the cast of The Office suddenly decided to go into the kidnapping business.
“What are you talking about?” I repeat, still stunned.
“Check out your gun, genius,” the guy on the ground snaps. “That thing look real to you?”
Now that he mentions it, the gun does feel a little lightweight. I point it away, and pull the trigger. Nothing. A few plastic clicks. Christ, it’s a toy.
“I’m sorry, I’m still not following. We hired you to do what exactly?” Julia snaps. One of the guys comes forward with a piece of paper.
“We’re an adventure role-play company. You know?” He rolls his eyes. “Your own Indiana Jones adventure? Actually, you didn’t want the treasure cave adventure; you guys chose the kidnapping and desert escape. Remember?” Our obliviousness makes this guy snort. “Jesus, you guys came into our office at like, one in the morning.”
“You’re open at one?” I say, incredulous.
The guy shrugs. “Some people like nighttime adventures. You know, night vision goggles and shit? Anyway, you came in and ordered a deluxe package for this afternoon. Remember? We added our stalker app to your phone just to know where you’d be so we could show up when you least expected. Holy shit, you don’t remember any of this?” The guy sounds disgusted. “How drunk were you two?”
The guy hands over the sheet of paper. The guy I punched is rubbing his nose, and I think he might be crying. Shit. This could be a lawsuit.
Julia takes the paper first, looks it over, then passes it to me with an expression that can only be described as nauseated and bemused. “Check it out,” she says.
I look and, yep, that’s my credit card number. Fucking fantastic.
“We were really bombed last night,” Julia tells the man by way of apology as he snatches the paper back. “Like, really bombed. Actually, do you happen to remember where we went after we left your office? Were you there?”
“You people are insane,” the man snaps.