Naveen rubbed his wrists as he came to his feet. There were pins and needles through his feet and legs, but that was probably not the worst discomfort he could be in tonight, so he’d take it. He tested his ribs, relieved that they felt bruised but were not unbearably painful.
“We have to get out of here, like now. Before they come back.”
Naveen glanced around. There was only one door in and out of this place, and it was the one the bad guys had left through.
He patted his pockets, but they were empty, of course. Only the most incompetent of kidnappers would have left them with a way to contact the outside world. “Your phone?”
She checked the pockets of her skirt. “Gone. Keys too.” She faltered.
No help coming for them, then. He crept to the door. As quietly as possible, he pressed his ear against the wood. No voices, but that didn’t mean they weren’t right outside.
“The window?” she whispered.
“You may be able to squeeze through. I can’t.”
“If you can’t, I can’t. My hips are wider than yours.”
He avoided looking at her hips. He paced to the boxes and riffled through the top ones. Moldy clothes and a broken lamp. From the style of them, they’d been cluttering up this storeroom for forty years.
“What are you looking for?”
“Weapons.”
“What are we going to do with weapons?”
“We can’t hope for someone to rescue us, and we can’t sneak out. That leaves fighting. There’s two of them, and two of us.” He said it with more confidence than he felt. He’d already been knocked down by one of those dudes, and Mira’s eyes were still dilated from whatever sedative they’d given her. You’re more prepared now. You kickbox sometimes. You’ve done jiujitsu.
“What?”
A scrape came from outside, and they froze. “They have guns,” Mira hissed, when no one threw open the door.
“Which is why we need weapons.” He moved on to the next box and paused when he found a forty dumped in a box full of blankets. It was half full of liquor, and heavy when he lifted it.
“That is ridiculous. We cannot fight guns with a half-empty bottle of moonshine some squatter left behind—”
“And paint.” An aerosol can of spray paint lay in the corner. He picked it up, shook it, and tossed it to Mira. He was done discussing this. They didn’t have much time before the men discovered they were free. Two men with guns? Maybe when he was twenty, fresh off earning a black belt and filled with bravado and recklessness. Not now that he was thirty-four and plagued with frequent neck pain from a sedentary job. Now he needed the element of surprise. He slowed his breathing and his heart, which was hard when adrenaline was pulsing through his veins. He let his gaze focus on the wooden door he stood behind. As soon as it opened, he’d pounce. “Call for help.”
“This won’t work,” she said.
“We wait until they’re both in here, then attack. You spray them, I’ll try to overpower at least one. If we can get our hands on one gun, we can fight our way out of here.”
“You’re being ridiculous. We cannot do this.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No.”
“And you agree we have to get out of here as soon as possible, especially before this boss shows up?”
She gave a frustrated sound. “Obviously. But these are professionals, not some amateurs.”
“I’m not going to sit here and die. You heard them. Call for help.”
She bit her lip for a long, pregnant moment. He was about to try to persuade her again, but then she spoke. “Of all the people in the world, I cannot believe I’m stuck here with you.”
That took him aback, as well as the fact that she was using her normal voice, but then he caught the way she was readjusting her grip on the can. “Fuck you and fuck that boilerplate will jab,” he said. “I’ll have you know I give each of my clients my undivided attention.”
She tightened her lips. She lifted her voice as well. “A two-bit lawyer like you? My aunt should have gone to a real firm instead of a hack.”
Ouch.
Despite the slight sting of her words, and the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help the spurt of amusement. Two-bit? Mira had a particularly old-fashioned turn of phrase sometimes.
A fist hammered on the door. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll duct-tape your mouths again.”
Snakes. The bigger guy, the one he’d already grappled with and lost to. He’d be the first one through the door. Naveen shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He nodded at Mira again.
She backed away to the wall and sank to the floor, in the same position she’d been in when they’d left the two of them, and placed the paint can right behind her. “I’ll shut up when you get me away from this asshole.”
“Asshole? I’m the asshole?” He lifted the jug of moonshine. “Your family is the reason I’m even here.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and her voice rose louder. He’d never heard her shout before, and he was mildly annoyed to note it still sounded melodious. “You’re nothing more than a cheap lawyer—”
“Did you not hear me?” The locks turned and the door opened. Naveen filled his lungs with air as Snakes sprang into the room. The man had a cowlick, the hair swirling over the crown of his head like a target. He took a step toward Mira and towered over her. Naveen waited a beat for the other man to come in as well, but no one followed, and there were no footsteps.
He caught the instant the man realized Naveen wasn’t in the spot he’d left him. He tensed and started to turn.
Mira whipped her hand around, and sprayed a stream of red paint directly into his face. At the same time, Naveen launched forward and slammed the moonshine jug down on their kidnapper’s head with all his strength.
Snakes was a sturdy bastard. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He turned to Naveen with an incredulous look on his paint covered face, and swiped at the color in his eyes.
Naveen ignored Mira’s squeak of alarm. Naveen dropped the bottle and ran for him, tackling him around the midsection.
They grappled on the floor. Naveen tried to keep his ears pricked for the other guy, but then the kidnapper flipped them so he was on the floor. Even blinded by paint and hit in the head, the man was strong. Naveen struggled, trying to gain the advantage again, but Snakes’s hands went around his neck and he pressed his thumbs tight, cutting off his air supply.
Fuck. They were in trouble. Mira had been right. They were no match for professional criminals, even two against one—
A loud thwack split the air, and Snakes’s fingers loosened. As Naveen dragged in a much-needed gulp of air, the man slumped to the side, off him.
Mira dropped the broken lamp she’d used to knock the man out, and rushed to the door and peeked outside. “The other guy’s not here.”
“Close it,” he gasped. Naveen pushed the man off him completely and scrambled to his knees, gesturing for Mira to stay back when she came closer.
He gingerly reached into the guy’s pants pockets, one eye on his slack face, and came up with car keys. Finally, a real way out of here. The sigh of relief turned into dismay at the next thing he found.