While I laid there trying to catch my breath, my mind wandered back to the night I found Wyatt at that diner with Griffin. I’ll never forget how shocked I was to see them sitting there together talking like old friends. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been freaked out to see Wyatt with a man like Griffin, with all of his bulging muscles and tattoos. But, for whatever reason, I didn’t freak, at least not like I should have. It really didn’t make any sense at the time. He should’ve made me feel intimidated or nervous with his leather jacket and thick beard, instead I felt safe… I felt like maybe I’d been the one that was lost and finally had been found.
From the very beginning, I instinctively trusted Griffin. If there was any way that he could be there for Wyatt, he would be, but there was no way for me to be sure that Griffin was with him now. I just couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get to Wyatt, I had to make sure that he was safe. Using the tips of my fingers as my guide, I felt along the edges of the trunk, searching for anything that might help me find a way out. I couldn’t find the emergency release, so I only had one other option and that was to kick my way out. It took some careful maneuvering with my aching side, but I managed to wedge myself sideways. I placed my feet on the back of one of the seats and pushed with all my might. Nothing. When that didn’t work, I started kicking it, over and over again. I used all my strength, all my will, and kept on trying. I focused on the right side of the seat, continuously hitting it in the same spot until I finally felt it give a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to encourage me to keep on going. My side pleaded with me to stop, but I was determined to get the hell out of that damn car. After countless tries, the seat finally broke free. A dim light trickled in from the crack, guiding me out of the back of the car.
I exhaled and inhaled again, trying to bite back the pain as I inched my hands down to my sides and pushed myself out of the backseat. Every muscle in my body hurt when I crawled out, and once I put my feet on the ground, my head swam with dizziness. I felt my stomach tighten as the nausea hit me, so I quickly leaned my back against the car door, trying to make my head stop spinning. I wiped the blood from my brow with hands that were already sticky with dried blood, and when I glanced down at my wrists, I was horrified to see the deep cuts and tears on my skin. I was a complete mess, but I was out.
When I looked around, I realized that I was in some kind of garage or warehouse. It was an old metal building filled with various cars and trucks, and there were large wooden crates stacked along the back of the building. Even though there was a loud hum of a heater running, the place was freezing cold, and it reeked of gasoline and oil. As I scanned the area, I didn’t see any tools or machinery like there would be in a garage, only wooden crates… lots of wooden crates. Curiosity got the best of me, so I walked over to see if I could peek inside one of them. The slats were nailed shut, but I was still able to use the tips of my fingers to move the straw, uncovering the barrel of a gun. When I did the same to the next crate, there was something different hidden beneath the straw. There were several squares wrapped in brown paper that were completely covered in cellophane, reminding me of packages of drugs I’d seen on TV. Feeling anxious, I quickly replaced the straw and took a step back. When I almost tripped over one of the smaller crates, I noticed a door in the back of the building. I started towards it, but stopped when I saw a light coming from an office upstairs. I stood there staring at it, wondering if it might lead me to Wyatt somehow. Even though my first thought had been to just get the hell out of there while I still could, I couldn’t leave – not when there was a chance that Wyatt might be up there, or at the very least a phone so I could call Griffin. Either way, I had to find out.
With the hairs standing up on the back of my neck, I slowly crept up the long metal staircase, and I was almost halfway, when I heard a man’s voice. I stopped, frozen with panic. My heart raced in fear, making me feel dizzy all over again. I held tightly to the rail as I stood there listening, trying to hear what the man was saying. It didn’t take me long to realize that it wasn’t Michael’s voice that I was hearing. The man had an accent, and there were other men in there with him.
“Their cameras still working?” one of the men asked.
“Checked the one outside by the back gate. Made sure they saw us coming in last night,” someone answered. “When are the others gettin’ here?”
“They’ll be here in ’bout an ’our,” one of the men answered with a thick accent.
“How many are they bringing with them?” another voice asked.
“Twenty ’r so,” the man answered. “Maybe more if they can round them up.”
“Good, we’ll need ’em, especially when their enforcer finds out that we got his girl. Would’ve been even better if we had the VP’s, too. Get them both where it hurts for killing Victor,” he growled. “Motherfuckers think they can kill our Sergeant of Arms without blowback? Hell, I can’t wait to put a bullet in his head.”
“Won’t be long before he comes running for her. I don’t figure it will be much longer before he figures out that the guy bitchin’ about wanting his son doesn’t have her,” a man explained.