#Chapter 22

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"So, that's the plan. Too risky but still easy right? No matter what's the situation, I want Pete here tonight. If someone interrupt, just...kill them...if... that's the only choice you've." She - the kidnapper, told her men.

"That's all. Now keep your eyes on Kinn." The three men nodded their head understood before they walked away from the room.

They went to the basement where Kinn was being held. But...

"What the fuck?!"

"Where is he?!"

"The lock has been destroyed!"

Three of them became panicked once they couldn't find Kinn inside the room.

===================

"Let me go! I can walk by myself!" Kinn jerked his arm away from Porsche. "Why did you come alone?! Where's polices?! That maniac girl should be arrest!"

"A 'thank you' would be nice instead of a yelling." Porsche said irritated.

"Thank you? Pft! In your own dream! Your job is to protect me, but you've fail to do that simple thing!"

"I'm here, aren't I? I save you."

"Yes you did! So I just need to give you a lot of bonus! There's no need for me to be grateful towards you!"

Porsche gritted his teeth as he tried to calm himself. He had spend a sleepless night just to find Kinn's whereabouts, and here what he got? A blaming? A yelling? An insult?

"The polices will caught her, right?"

"They are on their way."

"What if she run away?"

"I know who she is. The kidnapper and the stalker are the same person."

"Even I know that!"

In the ended, Kinn left Porsche by himself. Kinn refused to go to the hospital despite of his current condition. He asked Porsche to call a taxi for him and then left Porsche alone in the middle of the road.

"Jerk! I shouldn't have save you!"

*vrooom*

A motorbike stopped next to him. "See? I told you that you will regret saving him." The man took off his helmet.

"Vegas..."

"Hm?"

"Now tell me how did you know about Kinn's whereabouts and the kidnapper."

"I told you already. My sixth sense is quite strong and powerful." He said and smirked. "Why? Are you so curious about me?"

Porsche looked at him up and down, doubtful. "You don't have... personality disorder, don't you?"

"Do I look like a sick person?"

Porsche couldn't answer that. So, he just shrugged his shoulder. "By the way, thank you for your help."

"Your 'thank you' not accepted."

"What?"

"How about we go grab a drink?"

"Hm, but I--"

"Come on Porsche. Just one or two bottles." Vegas said and patted the seat of his bike. "I'll let you ride."

"

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