She heard the click of a gun. She looked up.
He stood there, with his dangerous gray eyes, holding the gun in his hand carelessly, not aimed at her, but simply to make its presence known.
She didn't say a word.
"Needless to elaborate, you have no choice."
He approached her, and she flinched slightly. He held out a hand.
"I don't want to hurt you, Claire."
Her eyebrows knotted with confusion.
"Get up."
She pulled herself up unsteadily, not daring to take his hand to help herself.
In a sudden flash of movement and cologne, she heard the click of metal as she was cuffed.
December 30, 1986
"Look at this," he said, holding up the miniature baseball bat. "Nice lookin', huh? He can practice for the big leagues."
She pursed her lips in a smile. "We're only six weeks in, baby, nothing's set yet."
"No, it's a boy. I can tell," he insisted, lowering his face to her still taut stomach. He looked up at her, his astonishing eyes glinting eagerly in the light. "I can hear him."
"That's crazy," she laughed, embracing his head around her stomach. "You're crazy Johnny."
She had been alone in the room for nearly half an hour now. It was only one floor above the ground.
She didn't want to shatter the window; she was sure someone would hear. There was a man stationed to watch her just outside the door.
Instead, she had been sitting for the past half-hour, unscrewing the hinges of the window. Her fingers were calloused from using the rusty Swiss knife. She gave the knife one more hard twist, taking off the last screw. She caught the window before it fell, setting it lightly on the bed.
The opening was just enough for her. She had no idea where she was, and no idea how she was getting home, only that it was her last option. Her heart palpitated wildly, spots of white clouding her vision. She struggled to pull herself through the window, clutching to the railing of the balcony. She found herself trying to reach the gutter pipe, hoping to grasp it and pull herself down to safety.
She held on for a moment, hanging and eyeing the piping system, merely a few feet away from her grasp. Suddenly, with her palms already sore and sweaty, she felt her hand slip on her hold. She bit the insides of her mouth hard to stop herself from screaming as she lost grip, falling and landing hard on the garden below.
She was breathing in bursts now as she pulled herself up. Her arm was throbbing in pain, sending her into deluges of agony.
She scanned the garden, holding her arm tenderly, seeing no one in the vicinity. Mustering up what was left of her energy, she made a mad run for open gate. Her red hair flew wildly, getting in her eyes and nose, but she could no longer stop her own momentum. She had gotten too far to stop now.
She reached the gate, hands pushing aside the cold metal door and relishing the taste of the free air on the other side.
And then, she heard a gun-shot.
Her hand instictively fumbled back, clutching her back, touching warm fluid. Her eyes momentarily froze from the impact.
Within moments, everything went black.
In His Hands - In His Command (Captured by the Mafia)
Chapter 3
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