Page 65 of Sicko

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I pulled on my ties. We’d been fucking kidnapped. Anger seeped into my pores, my muscles flexing with tension. Motherfucker.

The video began to fuzz, like the old box TVs then it came clear. A single black seat, dark leather cushions, a black hoodie with black slacks, and glossy loafers. I was raised in money, spoke fluent ‘rich motherfucker’, and although this motherfucker used the hoodie as a blanket for his identity, I knew for a fact he knew money too. “Each of you are leaving. Tonight. Your life has been pushed into fast-forward.”

Growling, I tried to bite the rag out of my mouth to no avail. Orson was jumping around in his chair, attempting to pull from his ties while Storm remained quiet, watching the TV as if studying every single detail. We were fucking eighteen years old. What the fuck could he want with us? Obviously not money, so it must be a favor from one, or all of our parents. You have three of the richest fucks in America sitting in one room, bound and tied, and you know that it has something to do with the parents.

His voice comes back, the robotic tone a dead giveaway that this asshole didn’t want us to know who he was. “Before you even try to refuse, I will tell you right now that there’s one very good reason why each of you are going to listen to every single word that comes out of my mouth and not just obey me, but fear me.”

Not likely, you fucking cunt.

“You will all be released from your room, with the equipment you need to make your way back to civilization. I’m sure you will admire my technique one day.” He leaned forward, and his necklace caught my eye. “All three of you will go home, and you will each find a folder on your bed. In that folder will be the reason why you’re going to listen to me. You were all set to go to college. You’re leaving earlier. You are to be out of your homes no later than midnight tonight. If you try to tell anyone. Your friend. Girlfriend. Parent. Aunt. I will gut them, turn their organs into clothing, and sell them on Etsy.” He paused, and we all waited.

He was fucking crazy, but there was an air of fear that his words left in the room well after he spoke them. A threat that didn’t need weapons.

“If you do not leave—” Here it was. The big I’ll kill you. “Your sister Jade Olivia Kane—” The blood drained from my veins and if I wasn’t physically a completely healthy man, I’d bleed out on the ground from the mere whisper of her name from his lips. “Will become mine. When I say mine, I mean you would wish that I had just killed her by the time I was done. I would haunt your every single step with her, hang her in front of you like my ragdoll, tearing her at the seams and never stitching her back up, and if you think I don’t have that kind of power, I urge you to go home, check out the folder, open up your little laptops or phones, and simply type in the words K Diamond.”

My jaw tensed and everything inside of my body burned.

He relaxed back into his chair. “I trust you will make the right choice, gentlemen, and when you’re settled into your life, I will be back, and if I’m not, that means that one of you fucked up along the way and my arrival, will not be one that you will like.” The ceiling opened up and knives fell onto our laps. “You are dismissed.”

We paused, watching the TV after the video had long since cut out. It took us a while to wriggle around and cut ourselves loose, but once our hands were done, everything else fell away.

“What the fuck was that?” I snapped, glaring at both Orson and Storm.

Orson shook his head. “I don’t know, bro. I don’t like it.”

Heading toward the door, I pulled it open and stepped out onto the deck, confused. “We’re on a yacht.”

“What?” Storm stepped out from behind me with Orson on his tail. The door slammed closed behind him and when I reached back for it, it remained locked.

“Fuck.” Quickly making our way through the power yacht, we jogged up the stairs that lead to the main cabin and I paused, seeing the ocean on one side and the shoreline hundreds of meters away on the other.

“What the fuck is going on?” Orson’s confusion only annoyed me. None of us know.

“We have to listen to him.” I knew he was rich, but this yacht was something that only people like our families could afford. This wasn’t a little fucking toy. This was a damn multi-million-dollar machine.


Tags: Amo Jones Romance