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Boat? What boat?

“El Sr. Costa estará esperando cuando lleguemos.”

Arrive where? Where were they taking me? Where was I?

I didn’t have time to ask anyone anything before I was picked up and thrown over someone’s shoulder.

The man wasn’t gentle either, even when I cried out as he dropped me on a hard surface. He just sneered and kicked me in the legs, before telling me to shut up.

The next second I heard a motor start and the boat I was apparently on lurched, moving fast through the water. It seemed as if we drove for hours when I felt the hum of the motor slow and the boat coast to a stop. A few minutes later I was yanked again to my feet before I was dragged onto a dock.

Moving quickly, I tried to find some familiar landmark to me. All I saw were large buildings, a boardwalk and a small roller-coaster. The area looked like it was part of some small theme park.

Hurriedly they rushed me to one of the smaller buildings. Once inside, I was shoved into a chair, my hands quickly tied behind my back.

There were several men all around me. Each was heavily armed and they talked quietly. None of them looked familiar and with the pain ravaging my body, I didn’t bother trying to listen.

Hours or minutes later, a voice I knew captured my attention.

“You are not in charge here Mr. Costa. I am.”

I knew that voice.

I knew she was no good. I was right about her.

She was the very person my parents believed her to be and if I was thinking clearly and being honest with myself, I would rather take my chances with Costa. He was easy to discern. I knew what I was getting into with him. Her…not so much. I mean I had a feeling and if I was right, which I generally was, I wanted nothing to do with her.

“She killed my son.”

“I am not having this discussion with you. Now move.”

The sound of a bullet loading into a chamber told me she meant business.

Next, I heard metal scraping against the ground, then a warm hand on my chin.

“I know you’re awake, Donatella.”

Opening my eyes, I stared at my aunt who was sitting before me in a beautifully tailored white suit, looking down at her hands as she twisted a ring on her finger. When she looked up at me, she smiled and said, “It didn’t have to be this way. Your family would still be alive if they just did what they were told. I gave your parents every opportunity. I housed them, made sure they had everything they needed. All I asked in return was access to you. But no. Your father went and grew a conscious. Now you are all alone in the world. You know what though? I could forgive them for their deceit but I can never forgive them for turning my own son against me.”

What the hell is she talking about?

“You didn’t know, did you?” she sighed. “They contacted my son when he was away at college. He met with them, gave him everything he needed to put his life on his current path. Now, my son is working against his own mother. How’s that for gratitude? I spent eighteen years cultivating him to become someone great. To lead the next generation and now I have been ordered to kill him. My own son.”

“How is that my problem?” I whispered.

“It’s not but I blame you nonetheless. Now that I know you can talk, it’s time to give me what I want.”

“What? Do you need directions to the nearest jail? Sure, tell me where I’m at and I’ll give you explicit instructions. I’ll even draw you a fucking map.”

The slap came quickly, stealing the breath from my body.

“Language, young lady.”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

She sighed.

There were many things I wanted to say to this woman but I knew that none of it would help me in my situation. It really sucked being a know-it-all sometimes. I mean being smart had its perks but when it came down to brass tacks, it sucked. For instance, I knew there was no way she was leaving without my formula. Of course, hell would freeze over and bats would fly up her ass before I told her anything but it wouldn’t matter.


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime