Mischief

Chapter 33

The first thing I feel as soon as I managed to gain consciousness was the headache. It felt like there was a little drummer boy running around in my brain. I could hear faint mumbling and a scuffle in the distance. The ground was freezing cold against my skin and felt grimey. I blink a few times as my vision begins to clear. Where the fuck am I? There were no windows and a small grate in a steel door in front of me, being the only thing to let in the small slither of light that shined onto the floor. I seemed to be in some kind cell. It smelt musty and damp in here. I didn't like it.

The events from the airport came rushing back as I tried to sit up, leaning against the filthy brick wall. Those fuckers drugged me. How long had I been out? Where was I now? What happened while I was unconscious? I push myself off the floor and stumble back against the wall, dizzy. I was so exhausted and every muscle in my body seemed to ache. 

I stumble towards the door and collapse against it, trying the handle. Locked, of course.

"Oi! Let me out you stupid wankers," I shout, banging on the door. A guard comes up and opens the door. I immediately try to run but he shoves me back, throwing me down onto the floor. I scoff. How rude. He slams and locks the huge door and walks away down the hallway. I simply stay on the ground. I might as well work on regaining my energy.

I don't know how long I waited for, it felt like hours. Finally, another guard came and wrapped on the door. "Get up," he sneered at me, unlocking the door. Two of them walk in, both taking a firm grip of my arm and storming out, dragging me along. I felt so dizzy and mainly relied on the two men to keep me upright. They pulled me through many hallways and rooms and even up a set of stairs before finally, we stop outside two huge, mahogany doors. They knock a few times and wait. The door swings open after a few seconds and we walk into a huge room.

Wow. Talk about a rich bitch. The whole room was perfectly organized with high ceilings, a pretty chandelier, huge bay windows and a large desk in the center. Behind the desk sat the devil himself. 

The two men dragged me towards the desk and stopped a few meters in front of it. There were another six gang members in the room, each armed with guns and stern expressions. 

"Well, you got me. Talk about persistent, jeez..." I say to Ace, letting out an awkward chuckle, trying to inconspicuously wriggle my wrist out of the iron-grip. 

"You put up quite the fight..." He trails off, his voice as attractive as I could ever imagine a voice to be. I scoff. "Well, I mean, would you want to be kidnapped but one of these dudes?" I chortle. "They're so mean," I whisper yell. 

I swear, my sick, poorly-timed banter will literally be the death of me. Ace gets up out of his chair and walks slowly up to us. He makes one single hand gesture and the men let go of my arm. "Leave us," he commands. Wow. So attractive...

The men hesitate for a second but after a death-glare from gang-frenemy, they scatter, leaving me alone with this sociopath. Brilliant.

I glance at the ground, not sure of what to say. I wonder if he will kill me right now...

"Where is he?" Ace asks, stopping in front of me. I furrow my eyebrows and blink a few times. "Excuse moi?" I question, French accent and all. "Where is Alexander?" He says again. I glance at my feet. Alexander? As in Alex? As in my Alex? Surely this dude is on crack or something. I mean, sure, it is super duper coincidental, but maybe that's all it is; coincidence. I bloody hope so anyway. 

"I'm kind of half-asleep right now so if you want answers you are going to have to be more specific than that," I couldn't help but laugh. He turns and walks to his desk, grabbing a case file and handing it to me. I glance up at him for a split second before skimming through the pages. My jaw drops. You have got to be fucking kidding me.