Trixsters Anonymous

My head throbs as the massive headache takes over. I struggle against the zip ties that tie me to the chair until my ribs shoot an agonizing pain through my chest. It would be so easy to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I force myself to stay awake, watching the door. The men who took us are out of their league, definitely unsure of what to do with eight law enforcement officers. They’re waiting for orders.

Taking us was a mistake. The fear is written on their faces each time they come into this room.

“How ya doing, Kelly?” I swallow down the burn with each word.

“I’ll survive. I think those motherfuckers broke my hand.” His answer comes from across the dark room.

“What about the rest of you?”

There are grumbles from every man. The air is thick with anger and frustration, each of us pissed. Our first and only attempt to ambush the assholes resulted in one of our men getting shot. It was through the shoulder, but it stood as a warning.

We are bigger, stronger, and professionally trained, but we also hold an unspoken oath to each other. Now, we’re biding our time, using our heads to come up with a new plan. One way or another, we’re going to take these fuckers down and walk out of here—together.

“Scott, you ever think about joining the agency?” one of the men asks.

“Which one?”

“Pretty sure after this, you’ll have your pick.”

“As of this minute, no. Ask me again after we get out of this hellhole. Although, I have a feeling it may be a hard sell to Emi.” My chest tightens at the mention of her name. She knows by now I’m missing, and there’s no telling the hell she’s putting the Captain and Oliver through.

“Lucky SOB,” Kelly mutters.

“Speaking of getting out of here, we need to stop pussyfooting around. These fuckers need to be taught a lesson,” another of the men growls.

“Listen, do you hear that?” Kelly lowers his voice.

I listen intently and hear the faint sound of a motor. “Is that a drone?”

“It’s several. One would be almost undetectable, but a few together give off a distinct hum.”

“You think they can hear it?”

“I don’t think those dumb fucks know the difference between a drone and a toilet flushing.”

We don’t have to wait long to find out because there’s a loud crash followed by glass shattering. Shouts fill the space on the other side of the door as gunshots are fired. Thud after thud, bodies go down until it’s quiet.

The door flies open, and several men in uniform swarm the room with guns raised. Gun smoke fills the air, and the light is temporarily blinding. I blink a few times to find focus. When they see the eight of us tied to the chairs, and no more kidnappers, they lower their guns.

“Anyone hurt?”

“Few broken bones, gunshot wounds, bumps and bruises. Get us out of these fucking zip ties,” Kelly barks.

“Give me an update!” someone orders through a radio.

“Seven down. Our eight are all alive. Get the paramedics in here now!”

By the time my arms and legs are free and the blood circulation is back to normal, there’s a paramedic in my face, asking questions and assessing the wound on my thigh. When they try to get me onto a gurney, I refuse, standing and leaning into the man for support.

He helps me out and into a waiting ambulance. In the bright lights of the truck, I catch his grimace and know my face looks like shit. I took a few hits when I was captured.

“Where are we?” I look around the area for any sign of familiarity.

“In an abandoned building in Savannah, Georgia.” He hands me a bottle of water that I suck down in one gulp.

“What day and time is it?”

“Saturday, close to five a.m.”