James Grippando - The Abduction

The Delgados burst into laughter.

Repo scowled. “Is this what you assholes dragged me up here for? Another live episode of Beavis and Butt-head ?”

Tony wheezed, still laughing. Then he turned serious. “We brought you up because Johnny says you don’t have the balls to follow my orders.”

Repo looked at Tony, then at his brother. “What are you talking about?”

Johnny said, “Killing the girl. I don’t think you’re gonna do it.”

“We’ll find out on Monday, won’t we?” said Repo.

“Maybe,” said Tony. “But I think you could use a little incentive.” He glanced at his brother. “Get the girl, Johnny.”

Repo grabbed his arm, stopping him. He could smell the tequila oozing from his pores. “You guys are drunk. Don’t mess around.”

“Take your fucking hands off me.” Johnny shook himself free, then hurried toward the basement. Repo started after him, but Tony grabbed him.

“Just wait here.”

Repo resisted at first, then stopped. He turned down the volume on the CD player so he could hear what was going on in the basement. He heard Johnny shuffling down the stairs, and then a muffled curse. The drunken jerk had tripped and fallen on the last step. Then all was quiet. In a minute, Johnny was on his way up. This time, two sets of feet clattered on the stairs.

Kristen emerged first, blindfolded, her hands bound behind her back. Johnny had her by the arm, steering her through the hall. He handed her off to Tony, then continued to the far side of the kitchen by the sink. Tony stood in the doorway, right behind Kristen. Repo was at his side. The three of them were facing Johnny, though Kristen was blindfolded.

“Take it off,” said Johnny.

Repo winced, confused. “She’ll see your face.”

“Duh,” he said, mocking Repo. “Take it off.”

“Don’t do it, Tony. He’s drunk, man. This is stupid.”

“Take it off!” Johnny shouted.

From behind, Tony held Kristen’s face in his hands, so she couldn’t turn her head. She could look in one direction only-straight at Johnny. Tony untied the blindfold. Slowly it slid from her face.

Kristen blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“Don’t turn your head,” Tony told her. “Just look straight ahead.”

She stared across the kitchen. Johnny Delgado was in plain view, looking straight at her. He stepped closer, smirking, sticking his face right before hers. He was nearly nose to nose, less than a foot away. “Take a good look, you bratty little bitch. Take a real good look.”

“Kristen, don’t look!” shouted Repo.

“ Way too late,” Johnny said smugly. Tony put the blindfold back on her.

“You assholes,” said Repo. “She’s seen your face.”

“That’s right,” said Tony. “She seen it. And you know what that meant for Reggie Miles.”

Kristen cringed, not sure if this was a cruel game or a genuine power struggle.

Repo shook with anger. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Tony tightened the blindfold. “It’s the point of no return, Repo. Now you know that if you don’t do your job, Johnny has to do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Johnny scoffed. “And if I’m the one who does her, you know she won’t die a virgin.”

Repo lunged forward, shoving Johnny across the room. Johnny slammed into the counter. The two men froze, breathing heavily, staring at each other. Repo glanced at the knife protruding from the counter-the big kitchen knife Johnny had stuck through the cereal box.

Johnny smiled, challenging him. “Go for it, Repo. You want a piece of me? Now’s your chance.”

A tense silence filled the room. Repo was poised to lunge for the knife. Johnny braced his foot against the cabinet behind him, like a sprinter in the blocks. Tony slowly edged the girl out of the kitchen, into the hallway. His face beamed with anticipation, like a boxing fanatic with ringside seats. Finally he broke the silence.

“Stick him, Johnny!”

Johnny shot across the room and grabbed the knife by the handle. Repo leaped forward and hit him broadside. They smashed against the kitchen cabinets, then tumbled to the floor. The long knife glistened in the light as they rolled across the floor, struggling for the weapon.

“Stick him!” Tony shouted.

Johnny rolled on top, pinning Repo on his back. He clenched the knife in his right hand, but Repo had his wrist. With a quick jerk he shook his hand free and brought the knife down, full force, aiming for Repo’s throat. On impulse, Repo kicked against the oven door, launching Johnny up and forward. The blade stuck in the linoleum floor, nearly scalping Repo. Repo kicked again, harder, sending Johnny headlong into the refrigerator. The blow stunned him. The knife fell to the floor. Repo scooped it up and pointed it at him.

“Johnny!” his brother shouted.

“Just stop!” cried Repo.

Johnny lunged straight toward him. Repo fell backward to the floor, and Johnny crashed down on him with his full weight, swinging his arms wildly. They landed with a thud, with Repo on his back and Johnny on top. Johnny groaned, then went limp. Repo lay motionless, stunned at the warm and wet sensation on his hands and stomach. Johnny still didn’t move. Repo pushed him off and rolled him on his back. His arms flailed like a rag doll. His shirt was torn and soaked in crimson. The knife was buried up to the handle in his chest, between the ribs.

Tony rushed forward, leaving Kristen in the hall. “Johnny! Oh, shit!”

Repo sprung from the floor and flew across the kitchen. In a blur he slammed Tony against the cabinet, then grabbed the electric toaster and slammed it on his head. Tony fell at his brother’s side, half conscious. Repo sprinted to the hall and grabbed Kristen.

“Let’s go!”

He tore off her blindfold so she could run with him, then took her by the arm and rushed out the door. In seconds he was galloping down the front steps, digging in his pocket for the car keys with one hand and pulling Kristen with the other. He threw open the door and shoved her in the backseat.

“Stay down!” he shouted. She dove for the floor, face down.

He jumped in the driver’s seat and fired up the ignition. He saw Tony stumbling down the porch as he slammed the transmission into reverse. The car squealed out of the driveway, fishtailed on a patch of ice, then peeled off into the night.

He checked the rearview mirror as he sped away. Tony was running back inside the house. Repo figured he had a gun, but he was probably afraid to fire a shot and attract the neighbors’ attention.

Repo struggled to catch his breath, panting so hard he was fogging the windshield. He blasted on the heater to warm things up. Thankfully, the traffic lights were cooperating. Just one more green light and they’d make the expressway. He sighed with relief as they cruised up the entrance ramp. Then he heard Kristen sob, and panic struck him.

His hands and shirt were covered with blood. He had General Howe’s granddaughter facedown in the backseat.

And worst of all-what frightened him to the core-was knowing he’d just killed the nephew of Vincent Gambrelli.

“I’m a dead man,” he uttered as the car merged onto the expressway.

Allison arrived home at midnight, just in time for a telephone conference that would map out the final weekend of the Leahy-Helmers campaign. She pitched her business suit into her bag for the cleaners, threw on a bathrobe, and took the call on the couch downstairs, so as not to wake Peter. Helmers and his chief adviser were patched in from their hotel in California. The media consultants connected from New York. David Wilcox and his lead pollster originated the call from a campaign headquarters that, at this stage of the game, was busy around the clock. Allison and Wilcox had yet to make peace since their blowup earlier that week, but with the election looming, everyone seemed to understand that, like it or not, they were stuck with one another for a few more days.