Death of a King

Chapter 3

"Screw you!" I yelled, smacking Dustin's back for the fifth time. Yes, lucky number five. I'm counting. And if we weren't on the back of a speeding deathtrap, I'd jam my thumbs into his eyeballs and squish them between my fingers. He may be a criminal but that didn't give him the right to walk all over me, and I'd make sure he was well aware of that.

    But despite my assaults, he was enjoying this. Each hit brought on a round of laughter, each cuss word met by a smirk. He was infuriating! There was no way to insult him. He even managed to keep the motorcycle in a ridiculously straight line even though World War III was happening on the back end.

    Who was this monster and how the hell had I gotten so incredibly lucky to meet him on such an unfortunate night? Please, note my sarcasm.

    "Is that a legitimate request?" Dustin called back.

    "Not on your life!" I wanted to rip that damn ego out of his eyes and punch that smirk right off his face, "You tricked me, asshole!"

    He shrugged, "Don't blame me, sweetheart. If you're threatened with a gun, the number one priority is to make sure there are bullets in it. Otherwise the gun is just a paperweight."

    My irritation grew, "And how do you suggest I find out if there are bullets in it?"

    "Hell if I know. But once you figure that out, let me know. I've run into similar situations in my line of work." Dustin replied, gunning the engine once more which caused us to lurch forward and in turn, made me grab onto him for safety. He's been doing that for twenty minutes and it was starting to really piss me off. He must have seen the anger on my face because he did it again, laughing at the way I cried out in fear.

    This time, I smacked the back of his head. One might think hitting a well renowned murderer would be a bad idea but there wasn't much Dustin could threaten me with while on the back of a speeding motorcycle. Still, when his heated eyes met mine I felt a chill seep deep into my bones.

    Maybe that was just from the wind.

    We sat in silence for a while, listening to that same wind howl in our ears as we covered mile after mile. We were heading south, that much I could tell, but it wouldn't help in deciphering my whereabouts. My town rested in northern California, so south meant we could be going anywhere. A broad net by far. No one would be able to find me.

    That's if anyone is looking.

    It's likely that no one knows I've been abducted. Kendra and Jake are at the party, Toby is tucked safely into bed, and my dad ...

    He probably won't look even once he realizes I'm missing. By now, he must have called the house to see if I made my curfew. When I don't pick up, he'll be a force worthy of fighting a man such as Dustin. But my father would never fight for me to save me, he'd only fight for me with the promise of killing me himself.

    Nonetheless, that threat meant very little because my father won't know where I am. Will he search for me? Will he even care that I'm gone? Probably not. The only reason he'd be upset is because he no longer has a maid to care for the house.

    To be completely honest, he'll probably rejoice at my absence.

    But who will take care of Toby? He has a doctor appointment tomorrow, dad doesn't even know how to get to the doctor's office. And Toby's medication, he has to take it everyday. My poor brother is going to die because I was stupid enough to get kidnapped. I should be there with him, playing Black Ops and eating popcorn, not strapped to the back of some motorcycle driven by a man half mad with blood on his hands.