Secrets of the Boss 9

Start Here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7
Part 8

“Is she awake yet?” Anxious voices break into the soft machine noises that lull me back toward sleep.

“Officer, she needs her rest.” The admonishing voice of the nurse rises above a whisper.

“And we need to protect her, which means we have to talk to her.”

Soft-soled shoes shuffle into the room. I peer up into a pale face speckled with freckles. A helmet of red hair pulled back into a tight bun holds a tiny white cap in place.

“Five minutes.” She holds up her hand with fingers splayed wide as she glances at the clock.

Soft footsteps give way to heavier footfalls. I force my eyelids open as blurry faces lean in to worriedly peer into my eyes.

“Officer Polsen,” I offer a tentative smile. “Officer Wason.”

Officer Wason nods in recognition as Officer Polsen steps closer. “We’re glad you’re alive.” His voice resonates with concern.

“Me, too.” I laugh and pain shoots through my swollen cheeks.

“You know who did this to you?” He gestures at my face.

I nod.

“Who was it?” They both lean in for my answer.

“They called him the boss.”

The officers exchange a look as I fumble for the pink water jug on the bedside table. Officer Wason steps forward to pour me a glass of water.

“What did he look like?”

“Fake tan, bad dye job. They had me tied to a chair, so I am not sure how tall he is.”

The officers exchange looks again. “You’re sure you didn’t hear a name?”

“No. They didn’t even use their own names with each other.”

They frown as Officer Polsen says, “We’ll see what we can do with the information we have.”

They offer reassuring smiles. I weakly grin at them as I wonder if they learn that smile at the police academy. My eyelids meet as weakness defeats stubbornness.

*

When my eyes open again, a dark-skinned woman holds a death grip on my left hand. She rubs my wrist gently before dropping my hand. She leans over me to peer into my face. The aroma of vanilla mingles with harsh soap. My eyes focus on the nametag on her white coat before moving back to her face. She smiles down at me.

“There you are. I know you need your sleep, but I needed to check on you.”

“Uh-huh.” I yawn, stretching my arms above my head until my side begins to ache.

“How are you feeling?” She reaches for my wrist again.

“Okay. I guess.” I touch my face with my free hand, quickly drawing my hand back from the tender skin around my mouth and eyes.

She nods rhythmically a few times before dropping my wrist. “Your heart rate seems normal. Your stats are good. And…” She moves forward, pulling a penlight from her pocket.

“Hey.” I raise my hands to shield my eyes as bright light sears into my retinas.

“…your pupils are reacting normally. You just need a few days in your own bed and time for that bruising to go away.”

“I can go home?”

“Yes, as long as you don’t drive. I think the nice officer outside won’t mind giving you a ride.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

My face twists enough to cause pain as I furrow my brow. I begin to deny her implication but think better of it as she turns away. As she opens the door, a chair outside the door slides along the tiles and bangs against the wall.

“Doctor, how is she?”

“I’ll sign off on her going home as long as she takes it easy for a couple of days. You can give her a ride?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll send a nurse with some release papers for her to sign.” She glances back to me with another suggestive smile.

As she clears the doorway, Officer Polsen’s figure fills the doorway. He waits until I beckon for him to enter before joining me in the room.

“We’ve been assigned to guard you until this case is resolved.” He says as Officer Wason follows him into the room.

“That’s good.” I pull the blanket up to my chin, feeling self-conscious after the doctor’s suggestion.

Officer Wason moves to the window. He glances outside before turning back to face his partner and I. The three of us watch each other in awkward silence until the nurse arrives with my papers.

More

Hospitals don't bring a lot of excitement, but sometimes characters in crime stories end up there, right? I realize I neglected you last week, but I was proofreading a book for the one person I know reads this page. Keep reading. Keep commenting. Keep enjoying life. More to come...

Secrets of the Boss 8

Start Here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

“Wake up, Theresa.” Even that soft voice sends an explosion through my head.

I shiver as I return to consciousness. My eyes open but see nothing. They close and open again. Still they reveal only darkness. A soft keening sound reaches my ears. I quickly realize that the noise reverberates from my own throat. I inhale sharply, holding my breath until the fear fades to a dull ache in the corner of my mind.

“Wake up.” The voice whispers again.

I recognize the voice and my own voice catches in my throat. “Larry?”

“I thought I had this figured out, but it took me most of the day to find you.”

“You’re dead.” I whisper.

“Unless you want to join me, hush up. Let’s get you free.”

“I already tried.” As my eyes open again, they focus on a pale blue glow.

Larry leans in to peer into my eyes. The peculiar light plays along my wrist as his hand passes through my bindings. He shrugs and offers me an embarrassed smile.

“Too bad it can’t be that easy.” His brow knits as he concentrates on my bonds.

“It almost looks like you could slide your hand out of there.”

“I tried…”

“More than one way?” He interrupts.

“There’s only one way.” I demonstrate by pressing my palm flat against the arm of the chair and pulling my hand back until the rope catches under my thumb.

“Slide your thumb in.”

“But I…” I stop protesting as I tuck in my thumb and see the rope sliding further over my hand.

“Come on.” He whispers encouragingly.

I contort my hand until my thumb folds into the center of my palm. I press my wrist as close to the sturdy arm of the chair and gently slide it back. The rope catches on the protruding bone of my wrist. I pull harder and my hand slides into the loop of coarse fiber. The rope tears at the skin of my hand, but with a couple sharp tugs, my hand pulls free. I gasp in surprise, flexing my free hand to get the blood flowing. I loosen the knot holding my other hand with sluggish fingers. As I pull my hand loose, I revel in the moment of freedom.

“Untie your feet.” Larry encourages anxiously.

“I’m going to be disappointed when I wake up.” I mumble as I lean over to free my ankles.

The knots resist my swollen fingers at first, but I finally manage to release my ankles. I bite back an exclamation of pain as internal acupuncture spreads along my feet and ankles.

“Move. You have to get out of here.” Larry reaches out to help me, but his hands pass through me and leave a faint chill in my bones.

With Larry’s voice to bolster me, I stumble toward the large metal door. I grab the handle and pause, afraid to turn it. It turns under my hand and I stumble out onto a deserted street. Empty warehouses loom under the pale glow of a few working streetlights. I shuffle toward a payphone. My heart sinks as I lift the receiver to find that the line has been severed. I drop it back into the cradle.

“What do I do now?” I turn to Larry for ideas but find only an empty street.

Questioning my sanity, I stumble toward the nearest cross street. I look around the corner and see another empty avenue. I keep walking. I cross street after street until I find one with another living human being. Clad in a tight leather skirt and a thin strip of sequined fabric that barely passes for a shirt, she scans the street with a bored expression.

As she notices me, bright, red lips purses. Large eyes framed by thick black liner look me over curiously. I step toward her, feeling my strength fading. As my knees begin to falter, she steps forward to catch me.

She shakes her head. “I’m gonna regret this. Your man did a number on you, baby.”

“I need to…police.” I mumble.

She runs her hands along my pockets. “I hope you have money. I’ll call you a cab, but I ain’t paying for it.”

“Thank you.” I mumble as she gently lowers me to the ground.

My consciousness fades in and out, capturing small moments of time. She slides my wallet back into my pocket. She speaks softly to someone as they lift me into a bright yellow cab.

“This is all I have, baby. Take her to the hospital. That extra twenty should help you forget I was involved.” She leans in to whisper in my ear. “You forget me, too. You hear?”

I nod and mumble another, “Thank you.”

More...

I know. It's only Tuesday, but waiting a whole week just doesn't make sense when I already have this section ready. Now I shall go back to working hard for your amusement.

Secrets of the Boss 7

Start Here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Hours pass in silence. They talk to each other for a while before deciding they prefer the awkward silence. Eventually, the stockier of the two men rises from his chair, gesturing for the other man to watch me before disappearing. I hear a heavy door close somewhere behind me. Then silence falls again.

My remaining captor glances up from cleaning his fingernails with a knife. Folding the knife, he slides it into his pocket. He offers me a slight grin before standing and walking toward me. I slouch further into the chair as he reaches one hand toward me, but he just checks the knots around my wrists and feet.

“Don’t go anywhere, sugar, I’ll be back soon.” He offers one last grin before circling around me.

I hear the door open and close again. Then I am left alone with the silence. I flex my hands, trying to release it from the loop of rope. I give up after a few tries as the knot draws tighter and I feel rug burn beginning to form along the back of my wrist. I push up with my legs, trying to get enough leverage to lift the chair onto my back and hobble toward the door. My ankles tingle as blood flows through them, but the chair legs remain flat on the floor. Finally, I close my eyes and resume waiting.

A heavy door connecting with a metal wall resonates through the room. I open my eyes, craning my neck to in a vain attempt to see them coming. My hands clench and unclench in frustration as I wait. The soft murmur of voices draws closer.

An unfamiliar voice rises in anger. “You left her alone?”

“It’s not like we care if she gets lonely.” I recognize the slow drawl of the lesser of my two captors.

“I told him to stay with her, boss.” The other says.

“I don’t care what you told him. You should have waited for me to arrive. Get a quick dinner or something. I’d like a private audience with our guest.”

Not needing to be asked twice, their heavy footsteps retreat. My breath catches as patent leather shoes with a slight heel enter my line of vision. My eyes trail up to navy blue slacks, a matching, tailored blazer, a white shirt, red necktie, and finally a face that makes me tilt my head. So much about his face doesn’t seem quite right.

A strange orange glow rises from most of his skin, but a few small patches of startling white appear at the hairline. The color would have screamed fake tan without these neglected patches of his true color. Even his hair disagrees with itself. Too thin to merit so much color, it gleams under black dye and too much gel. One nervous giggle escapes before he leans in with a snarl on his face.

“Do I amuse you?”

My breath catches in my throat. I shake my head.

“Good. You know why you are here.”

He doesn’t ask a question but I shake my head back and forth.

“Where are they?” He leans in so close that spit sprays my face.

I bite my tongue, refusing to answer.

“Just tell me where the documents are.”

I turn my head from him, trying to wipe away as much spittle as possible on my shoulder. He laughs harshly, grabbing my hair close to the roots and contorting my neck back so far that my eyes and mouth go wide.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I force the words past the lump in my throat as he pulls harder.

He releases my hair and my head snaps forward. I manage to bite back most of the groan that rises into my throat.

“I’ll let you sleep on it one more time, but I expect answers when I return.” He punctuates his words with a harsh slap for each cheek.

My ears ring. Tears fill my eyes. I watch his blurry figure disappear out of the corner of my eye. I struggle to hold my head up defiantly until enough time has passed for him to be gone. Then I let it slump forward onto my chest as tears slowly flow down my cheeks.

More

More? More? More? I know. I know. I have more. I just need to translate the rough draft that I scrawled around the edges of a piece of paper and proofread it again before I present it for your attention. In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts below:

|  |

|  |

_|  |_

\    /

\/

Secrets of the Boss 6

Start Here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Every muscle twitches as my eyes slowly open. The blow to the head caused me to go blind. I open my eyes wider but can’t even discern shapes in the darkness. The tangy scent of gasoline fills my nose and seeps down into my lungs. My knees almost touch my chin. My legs try to straighten but have nowhere to go.

Muted, red light illuminates my surroundings as an engine comes to life. I roll over and an obstacle pushes me back onto into my original, cramped position. I push off the object a few more times before admitting defeat. Under the whir of the engine, voices in heated conversation make a soft murmur. I strain to listen. I can distinguish two voices, but they remain too muffled to guess at gender or make out words.

The faint sound of my ringtone calls out to me. It goes off twice before the owner of one of the muffled voices makes it stop.

“You didn’t turn off her cell phone?” A harsh male voice raises enough for me to hear.

The other voice still comes through as an unintelligible murmur. I push myself as far forward as I can. Placing my feet at the back of the trunk, I hold myself as close to the front as possible. Square corners dig into my back as the obstacle at my back resists my gymnastic efforts.

“…GPS…” Only those three letters cross the barrier of the back seat.

Comfort flows through me for a brief moment. I relax a little until the sound of an electric window rolling down follows harsh words. “Then they can trace her to this highway. It’s nowhere near the warehouse.”

Roaring laughter obscures the driver’s response. My legs buckle and I fall back into an unnatural position under the intermittent glow of brake lights. The soft murmur of voices eventually falls into silence. The throbbing in my head slowly lulls me back into unconsciousness

*

When I wake again, a harsh yellow light slowly oscillates above my head. My shoulders ache. As I try to move them, the rope knotted around my wrists tightens. A moan of pain slips out of my lips before I can stop it. The silhouette of thick shoulders and a smooth, round head blocks out the light.

“She’s awake.” The silhouette steps back to be replaced by another equally stocky man.

With the harsh light framing their faces, I can’t make out specific features just round shadows framed by tufts of hair. The halo of harsh yellow causes mousy brown hair to take on a coppery gleam. My eyes begin to water as I strain to discern some semblance of humanity.

“You’re right.” The second man nods in agreement as his low-pitched voice chills me.

“Ready to talk?” The first man leans in to grab me by the shoulders.

The first man’s warm breath caresses my cheek as he leans down to help pull me to my feet. His face comes into focus. He frowns disapprovingly at his companion. “You know the boss wants to ask the questions.”

“But we’d get leverage…”

The other man shakes his head as they drag me across the floor on rubbery legs. “You’d get dead. Just help me tie her up.”

As the first man pivots me to face away from the heavy wooden chair and forces my stiff limbs to bend into a seated position, I gasp. “I saw you at the library. You were following me.”

“Yeah. Good thing you’re slow on the uptake.” He grins as he lashes my ankles to the chair with heavy ropes.

His friend ties my wrists so tight that they begin to go numb. As he walks away, the knots loosen a little and my fingers tingle.

“So what now?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“We wait, sugar. Our boss wants to chat with you. If you say the right thing, maybe you can work out an arrangement.

The slow grin that crosses his face fails to reassure me. My fate, or my death, has already been decided.

More...

Back to being a mature adult who meets deadlines. Is this early or do I have high hopes of posting more tomorrow? That's a nail-biter question. I shall answer easier ones.  Yes, I plan to finish this story. Yes, I appreciate your feedback. Yes, I am silly enough to get distracted by crafting, cooking, and chomping. I shall be better. If not, you can always complain in the comments and call me to repentance. Keep reading and responding, my friends.