This week we had: When you wish upon a star" or use: champagne, icon, boulevard or use spring in some way (doesn't have to be the season) or use a nonsense song - such as Mairzy Doats or "Are you crazy? You could have..." or use a photograph in some way or "tripping the light fantastic." Along with 4 photo prompts. To make it easy on me, since I had so much going on in this chapter I just used a photo in some way.
One Night Part 12
He forced his eyes open and waited for the bleary room to come into focus. “What is …?” He winced and tried to reach for his aching jaw but he couldn’t move his hands.
He couldn’t feel his hands!
Blinking rapidly to try and clear out the gunk in his eyes, he started looking around. The first thing he noticed was Kameron sitting in front of him. “Kameron!” He looked like shit, blood all down his front and his nose was crooked. “What happened?” he croaked.
“I fucked up.” Kameron was on the ground too but he was on his side with his arms and legs behind him.
“Where are we?”
Kameron’s head fell back down to rest against the concrete on top of a small bloodstain. One of his cheeks was so swollen that it turned white against the filthy ground. The big man winced and lifted his head up a little again. “Zbrane’s men got us.”
He sighed in relief when Kameron shook his head a little. “I don’t think so.”
Fear made Bear’s heart pound in his head. He swallowed. “Why do they want me so bad? Why take you instead of leaving you behind?” Or killing him, but Bear refused to say that. The chair was icy against the bare skin of his back. He still had the hospital gown on, though he had managed to put on a pair of sweats before he’d been grabbed. His sore shoulder was throbbing worse than his jaw with the way his arms had been duct taped to the chair.
“I overheard them talking. They are missing over a quarter of a million in drugs, Bear. That’s a lot of cash.”
That made no sense. How could Vilem have stashed that much drugs at his place? “You’ve seen my apartment. There’s nowhere to hide drugs there!”
“We already know that.” The voice, guttural with a foreign accent, came from behind him. Bear jerked, wincing as the tape pulled at the hair on his arms. The man came around from behind him. He looked like ordinary, a bit more muscular in his chest and arms but not obscenely so, with a few tattoos of cats on his neck showing over his red t-shirt. No baggy clothing, no bandana, just… a man you could walk past on the street and not give more than a casual second look. “But you must know where else he would have hidden it.”
“No.” Bear swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture in his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said weakly, “I swear.”
“I think you do.”
The man pulled something out of the pocket of his black jeans. “Perhaps you just need the right incentive to think about it. We know Vilem did not tell the cops where the drugs are hidden, which means I can still get my product back. I want it, and you will tell me where to find it. You were dating that dumb suki; he told you something.”
“How do you know we don’t have the drugs?” Kameron asked. “I know you. You’re Choika.”
“Glad to see my reputation is as good as ever.”
Bear’s mind was racing. Shit, Kameron just told the guy he was a cop.
“We have our ways.” He bent over and then Kameron’s legs straightened. He didn’t have a chance to move before the man yanked him up by his shirt. He slammed Kameron into a chair.
“You going to cut me?” Kameron didn’t flinch but Bear’s couldn’t look away from that knife.
One black eyebrow rose. Choika smiled and the dead viciousness of the expression made Bear’s stomach cramp. Kameron had to stop baiting the guy; he wasn’t bluffing. He showed that as his hand darted forward and then back.
Kameron shouted and then pressed his lips together, breathing hard through his nose. Blood dripped off the knife at Choika’s side. “Did you like that?” Kameron glared up at him. The sadistic man laughed. “I thought that might shut you up.” He flicked the blood off his knife. “We’re not interested in you,” he turned to Bear, “but we are interested in you.”
Bear cowered as far back as he could into his chair. He was close to hyperventilating and his entire body shook. “I don’t … I … don’t ….”
Choika came close to him, bending down to stare into his eyes. Bear stared at the ropy white scar that had been hidden by the man’s salt and pepper goatee. “You do. Where would Vilem have hidden the drugs? Where did he go when he was with you? Do you have family other than that stinking pig cop brother? A friend?”
Shaking his head fast, Bear said, “N-no. They didn’t like him.” He licked his lips, desperately afraid of the knife now waving in front of his face. “I don’t know.”
“Think harder.” The knife blazed a hot trail down the side of his cheek and neck to his chest. Choika pushed and the tip pierced Bear’s skin. A thin trickle of blood stained the gown he was wearing. “Where could he hide the box? I want my drugs back, so you better figure it out,” he snarled.
A box? Where had he seen … “Do you want a nice scar here?” Choika prodded at him. Bear cried out. “Or do you want me to cut your boyfriend again? I will. I want my box back. It’s plain brown with white writing, like this.” He waved a picture he held in his other hand in front of Bear’s eyes.
Choika stood up, pulling the knife back. Bear cringed. “You know. Tell me!”
Kameron was shaking his head behind the man’s back, but Bear ignored him. “No,” he mouthed.
“I think I might know. I’m not sure though! It’s just a possibility!” Bear babbled.
“Where!” Choika thundered.
“Capstone. The bar I work at.”
Choika narrowed his eyes at him. “If it is not there, your boyfriend will pay.”
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