The second guy picks up my coffee cup off the counter and smiles at it. He’s got a gold tooth and a neck tattoo that says “Gabriella” with a lot of curling shapes.
“Luna? That's hilarious,” he scoffs. “Let's just see what we have here… Marie.”
The first guy still has his hand pressed hard over my mouth. He raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Check her ID. Make sure.”
The second guy pulls my wallet out of my purse and looks at the ID. “Marie Francesca Lauro,” he says in a lurid sing-song.
Stringy guy’s skin is pockmarked and stained like a gravel road. He comes in closer, sniffing my hairline lasciviously. “Marie, Marie,” he snarls as he forces my head back. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s not nice to lie?”
I don’t say anything. I want to cry. I want to scream, but his hand is so hard over my mouth I can feel my lips bruising on my teeth. I just nod, hoping he's going to call Daddy and tell him I was good. Tell him I didn't try to struggle, I didn't embarrass him.
Bad breath guy looks at me with a leer. “What we’re gonna do is, you're going to come with us real quiet. You can save your screaming for when we get to the car.”
I nod quickly to indicate that I understand. Truth be told, I wonder what took them so long.
“I don't think she's gonna do it," says stringy guy.
Stringy guy pulls me closer to him, moving me up and down so my ass strokes against his front. When Daddy hears about this, he'll have this guy’s tongue for soup.
“Oh, she’ll be good,” bad breath guy sneers. “You like breathing, don't you?”
I nod again.
“Because it doesn't matter to me, you know,” he explains. “All I need to do is bring you to the drop off point. Whether you're still breathing at that point is negotiable. You understand? Move your hand, Emilio. Say you understand, Marie.”
Stringy guy lets his hand fall. It knocks against my tit on the way down.
“I understand,” I hiss, now free to breathe. My lips hurt. “When Daddy hears about how you're talking to me, he's not going to like it!”
The two guys look at each other and burst out laughing. Seriously, when Daddy finds out about how these jerks treated me, they don't even know how much trouble they're going to be in. That's the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit as the bad breath guy yanks me by the elbow and pushes me back out into the terminal hallway.
I trudge alongside them as they practically drag me through the moving walkways. People don't even seem to really pay attention to what's going on here, but I'm not screaming or struggling too much anyway. I probably just look drunk. Maybe these guys look like they're helping me out, how ironic is that?
We pass at least a dozen security guards who don't even notice these two have hold of my elbows as they pull me toward the parking garage. Nobody even gives a shit around here. It's like I would have to be waving a sign or something in order for anybody to pay any kind of attention. Even the guy holding my $10,000 purse on his shoulder doesn't raise any eyebrows. People are so stupid sometimes.
We make it to the parking garage, and I see the black SUV idling right in front of the elevator doors. A third guy climbs down from the driver’s seat pushing a hand through his coarse, curly hair before flicking his fingers toward my captors. He's Puerto Rican, I'm almost sure of it. I couldn’t tell at first but all three of these guys are. Why is Daddy hiring Puerto Ricans to come get me now instead of our own guys? This doesn’t make any sense.
The driver tosses a black cloth to bad breath guy who tugs it over my head. Now I’m breathing through a hood, and the world has gone completely black. A hood? This is totally fucked up. What am I, a political captive?
“Jesus, guys!” I yell through the fabric. “Get this thing off my head!”
I stumble blindly forward as they shove me in the direction of the SUV and hear a door open. My hands push out into the air in front of me. Just as I'm about to get to the part where I think the car is, my right arm is jerked harshly forward and I stumble, knocking my knuckles against the metal door frame.
I drop to my knees and hear a grunt and a wet squawking sound. Everything is confusion as bad breath guy’s voice cracks in an abbreviated snarl. I hear the sound of footsteps and someone cursing.
Nobody's holding my arm so I pull the corner of the hood over my chin and peek out. A big form is blocking my view, but I can see bad breath guy crumpled on the ground in front of me. His eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, his mouth open in a frozen expression of surprise.
The figure in front of me twists slightly. “Close your eyes!”
I push myself backward toward the wheel well, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. “Wait? What?”