Taking the Thief

“Your head was pounding, and the flight was pretty damn short.” Yes, I suppose it was shorter than the normal flight to Ostrov.

“Well, how could they let us on the plane without verifying our information?” I ask.

“Viktor gave them our passports.” Grunty muscle man opened the door as we pulled up to the front. Immediately, his eyes are focused on Zoey.

“Ladies, please come this way,” he orders. I’m not sure if it’s my headache, the frustration of the situation, or he’s really a dick, but he’s rubbing me the wrong way. I need to straighten his ass out.

“Um…sir,” I interject, but someone walks up to him and takes our luggage, and they have a whispered conversation. Music is playing at the entrance, and my brain doesn’t like it. My eyes hurt and my head throbs insanely.

“Shit, are you okay, Nat?” It sounds like she’s yelling. I need to be laying down.

The soldier boy in front of us grunted like a dick, but I don’t have the patience for this. “I’m fine, Zoey.”

“Follow me, ladies,” the guy mutters. I don’t know who he is, but judging by his attitude, I’m thinking he knows that we’re not who they thought we were. Another man came behind us and then they took us to a room that’s clearly meant for questioning people. They take our things, leaving us with nothing. Brutus and his minion are holding our purses. I can’t even call my brother. Fuck. There were only two chairs, so Zoey and I take the seats. I have a damn headache, so irritation is holding back the fear I should be feeling. I need to get a hold of my brother. Someone has a lot to answer for.

“Where is she?” gruntosaurus roars at me. “Where is Marisol?”

“Jackass, don’t yell at her, she’s got a fucking migraine. We got on the wrong motherfucking plane it seems. It would have been fucking wonderful if one of your dumbass staff members told us that before we took off. We’re not even on the right island.” Expecting to be cleared of wrongdoing soon, I rest my head on the table.

“Are you trying to tell me that you both didn’t intentionally board a flight using fake passports?”

I sit straight up fast, feeling the pain instantly. “What the hell is wrong with you? Look in our purses. Our IDs are in there,” I add, resting my head. “I’ll have your lousy company reimbursed for the flight, but hell if I’m going to tolerate being scolded something that’s not our mistake.”

“You mean these?” he said, tossing out our passports. I take mine and open it up just as Zoey does the same thing.

“What the fuck?” Zoey blurts out.

“These aren’t ours. Check our purses,” I exclaim, then put my head back down on the cold steel table. Zoey holds my hand and pats it. I can hear rummaging, and then he snarls. I lift my gaze to see him staring angrily at my ID.

He looks right at Zoey, lowering his head to meet eye to eye. “I don’t know what you two are playing at, but you come with me.” He pulls Zoey up by her arm. She refuses, sitting back down. He releases her then bends down and lifts her over his shoulder with her ass practically in his face. Zoey gasps, hitting him on his back. The next second she gets a little smack on her ass. “Behave. I don’t want to drop your feisty ass.”

“You can’t just take her,” I argue.

“The hell I can’t. You two need to be questioned separately. Don’t move.” He turns to his other clown on guard duty and says, “She doesn’t leave. I’ll be back.”

“Okay, terminator,” I mutter with a middle finger.

“Get to the chopper,” Zoey adds in her best Schwarzenegger.

I laugh which sends another pain to my head. “Fuck,” I hiss. Gruntosaurus Magee carries her out of the room, and his sidekick closes the door behind him, and I hear it click shut. I’m sure his goon is standing outside the door watching me like I’m a prisoner. I grab my phone since they left my bag. I lift it and see that there’s no damn cell reception. Resting my head is the best I can do.

Chapter 2

Julian

Rubbing my hands over my face does nothing to wake my ass up. Every day, I’m up early and working until the wee hours of the morning. I think it’s time I took a break from work. I’m sure they can run this place without me. At least, I’m ninety-five percent sure.

A knock at my door shakes me out of my fog. “Come in,” I call out. It could only be one of two people, my best friend and head of security, Grant or my assistant Carina. Everyone else knows not to bother me when I’m in my office.