22 - Cut Off

“Walk!” The big gruff man growled and pulled Owen by the back of his shirt. He had tried to go limp, just make things a pain for the goon. That was only a decent strategy, if the gorilla wasn’t willing to hit you. Owen’s ribs ached as he slung one foot in front of the other across the concrete parking lot under the hotel.

“Do not make such a scene,” the whiter, richer, smugger girl said.

“Please,” the browner, geekier, more demure girl insisted. Her accent wasn’t anything like the rich girl but neither were local.

“You’re ... um ... I’m walking, you don’t have to drag me!” Owen bristled under the big hand that dragged him. “Is this about Elizabeth? You know she left you, I’m just another guy. This is irrational.”

Owen was lying, of course. He was the one who had accidentally bought Elizabeth and took her as a sex slave. No one should believe the coins were magic. No one except for those who had seen them work. That was himself and Maxim le Carre. Owen wondered about Natasha. She was clearly the daughter, or niece of Maxim. Worth buying, in fact, from her figure and face alone. More importantly, she’d be a hostage and bargaining chip. It’d be a good play but Elizabeth had the box. But that’s why he had secreted an unused one into his cast. Smiling so broadly wasn’t yet the best strategy as a kidnapping victim.

“Brett! Shit! I was trying to remember your name!”

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” Brett answered.

“He is coming,” the brown girl said. “Do not be angry.”

She wasn’t calming down Brett to help out Owen. By the way she was looking around, she just didn’t want attention. Well, that made sense.

“Owen,” Natasha turned and looked at him with a hand on her hip. “Shut up and come along.”

“Yeah, shutting up,” he sighed. He walked into the elevator. The women stood behind him; Brett blocked the door in front of him. Owen had a thought, sweep quickly backwards, use Natasha as a shield. Brett was a goon but would he hit a woman?

Owen didn’t make a move. Besides, Natasha could just do his go limp strategy and then what would Owen have done? Bruise her ribs? The thought of injuring a woman sickened him. The third floor bell dinged and the foursome got off.

“Hafnan, la porte,” Natasha said.

“Oui, maîtresse.” Hafnan hurried forward, fishing her keycard from her coat pocket. Owen figured Natasha hadn’t even bothered bringing hers with her. She had Hafnan. Though Owen didn’t know how that might help him. They entered the hotel room. It was generic room with two queen sized beds. All of the clothes and luggage were packed into the closet and neatly arranged.

“So, you got me here,” Owen said. “Is your thug still necessary?”

“You think I’m going to let you use your whatever-the-fuck on these sweet girls too?” Brett breathed fire.

“No, I don’t think you will,” Owen said, looking flatly at Brett. “What can I do for you, Miss le Carre?”

“Ugh... “ Natasha said. “I wish to buy the coins.”

“That’ll be difficult, Elizabeth has them and your gorilla didn’t let her come with me.” Owen used his head to direct Natasha’s attention to Brett. “I heard that in a lot of old detective movies, never thought I’d get to say it.”

“That is lovely,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yes, I wish to buy the coins.”

“Coins?” Brett said. “Look, I don’t give a shit about coins. You promised, you’d get my--You’d get her away from this fuckwit. I don’t give a shit about fucking coins.”

“They are integral,” Natasha said. “Fine, I’ll buy your--Which one? The blonde? Which twin sister is that?”

“Non,” Hafnan shook her head. “The one in black dress outside of apartment building.”

“You don’t get a lot of practice with English,” Owen noted. “You’re doing very well. Very easy to understand.”

“Merci,” Hafnan looked away.

“Whatever, we’ll buy her too,” Natasha scowled. “She’s worth half a coin herself, no?”

“Elizabeth is not for fucking sale!” Brett said. “What the fuck?”

“Yes, the adults are talking. She’ll call you when it’s time for walkies,” Owen said, taunting the thug.

“Are you trying to get me to hit you again?”

“Yes,” Owen nodded. “The police are going to take good pictures of my ribs. Plus there’s the wrist you rebroke and this.” He gestured to his more than halfway healed black eye. “I can take another slug.”

“I have no interest in the blonde,” Natasha said. “She’ll be yours, we’ll be gone. If you are just going to be noisy. Please leave.”

Brett was about to storm out of the hotel room. He looked at Hafnan. “Give me her.”

“Dude, just crack her over the skull and drag her by the hair like the caveman you are,” Owen sneered.

“Fuck off.” Brett didn’t take another look at Hafnan and strode for the door. His courage gave out and he turned. “I just wanted someone to talk with at the bar. I’m not like him.”

“Yeah, you can’t keep a woman,” Owen smiled as the door slammed shut with Brett outside it.

“Are you happy riling him up?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Owen said with a nod.

“I do not drink alcohol,” Hafnan said, frowning. “I wouldn’t have gone to the bar with him.”

“I wish you’d told him,” Owen smiled. “Can you get some ice and a towel for me? My rib is really hurting.”

“Go,” Natasha sent Hafnan to fetch. “The coins.”

“Your father’s paying me millions for them,” Owen said.

“What?” Natasha asked. “His stupid obsessions. Fuck.”

“You’re not much of a negotiator,” Owen laughed. “I’m missing our meeting right now, you know.”

“I know, this is why I had to get you right now.” Natasha said. “Your--Brett’s--The blonde has the coins?”

“Yes, she should,” I nodded.

“And you trust her?” Natasha said. “She changed men less than a month ago.”

“A little under two weeks.”

“You cannot know her well enough.” Natasha shook her head. “Brett thinks you drugged her. Your green haired slut has drugs. Is that how you caught the blonde?”

“No, I didn’t drug her, and I’ve known Elizabeth for three years,” Owen said. The restaurant had been his and Janice’s hangout long before Elizabeth had started working there.

“She is taking the coins to my father right now.” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

I fucking hope not! Owen frowned, keeping his worry in his mind and mostly off of his face. “She has probably retreated. Contacted the police.”

“So, they may still be available for sale.”

Owen didn’t even pretend to hide his blooming joyous smile. No, they were not for sale. They were only bait. She was in contest with her father, this was too easy. He slipped his thumb into the edge of his cast. His spirited away coin has fallen out.

“You have stopped smiling like an idiot,” Natasha sneered.

“Let me call Elizabeth,” he said. “No. Let me call Janice.”

“Who--”

“Green haired slut.” Owen smiled, looking forward to telling his cousin this story.

“Why her?”

“Because I know her number. The others are just in my phone.”

Natasha nodded and picked her iPhone from her purse.

Elizabeth hadn’t called the cops. She didn’t want Brett to get into trouble. She wanted to get Owen back. She felt cold for doing so. Instead, she walked back into the apartment building and up to Janice’s door. Janice wasn’t home.

“Is everything OK? What did he forget?” One of the twins (not the green haired one, but Elizabeth couldn’t come up with their names -- let alone which one was which -- with a gun to her head) asked from Owen’s door. Elizabeth smiled and turned back to the elevator. She found Carlos and Davy outside of the building.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Are you OK, Lizzie?” Carlos rushed over first.

“I thought you guys had been smart enough to leave,” Elizabeth frowned.

“Well, we didn’t think things were this fucked up with the rich girl and Hafnan,” Davy said. “She had said something about clearing things up with your new boyfriend. You’d been mopey around work. She asked if we could help.”

“If we had known Brett was that kind of guy,” Carlos shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’ve known guys like him in Afghanistan. Especially after a dear John letter.”

“And his actions are my fault?” She asked aghast.

“No, of course not!” Carlos said. “Anyone who throws their weight and muscles around like that is at fault.” Elizabeth scoffed at that. Carlos frowned and stepped closer. “Are you OK?”