Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(42)
“Hands behind your back,” I command. When he doesn’t move, I nuzzle the gun barrel against his temple and add, “Now.”
As soon as he joins his hands behind his back, I lower the gun to press the muzzle against his back and use my free hand to wrap the belt around his forearms, near his elbows. I slip the end through the buckle, but I have to put the end of the belt between my teeth to pull it taut and fasten it without losing the advantage of the gun at his spine. Finally, he’s secure—secure as I can accomplish with one hand anyway.
“There we are. Now, let’s get in there,” I whisper into his ear for effect. The goal is to creep him out, make him think I’m cold-blooded. Really, it’s the idea that they may have seriously hurt Will that makes my blood run cold.
Vasili takes a shuffling step toward the next room, and I close the distance between our two bodies as soon as it appears. We round the corner into the adjoining room in perfect tandem. The area is empty except for Will, bound to a metal folding chair, all but hidden under looming shadows in the corner. The chair is braced against the outer wall, and fragments of plaster dust the hardwood floors surrounding it. Will must have been slamming the chair into the wall. But why would he want to draw his guards’ attention to him and risk making them angry? It couldn’t have been an escape attempt; it would have been the world’s worst, considering no one’s ever untied themselves from a chair by banging it into a wall.
I can’t see Will’s features clearly, but I’m worried over how he’s holding up. Even if they haven’t harmed him physically, they could still be damaging him. I grew up with hardened criminals, the kind who joke about weapons around the Thanksgiving dinner table or spend a lazy Sunday afternoon discussing the details of their dream heist.
But Will is different. He’s a good kid, likely from a good family. He’s probably never even stolen so much as a pack of gum. He’s definitely never encountered the likes of Vasili and The Suit. And now, his life is being threatened. Because of me.
I dig my gun deeper into Vasili’s spine. “Where’s the light?” I ask around gritted teeth. My voice echoes off the walls of the empty space. Vasili motions with a slight nod to a switch on the wall next to us. I reach with my free hand to flip it.
And I get my first view of Will, tied to the chair with what looks like thin nylon cord. He’s not even surprised to see me. Did he know I was here before I came into the room? Does he know I’m the reason he’s been kidnapped? I push my relationship worries aside and visually inspect him.
His left eye is a swollen purplish-red color, and his left cheek is split open, dried blood crusting the wound and a dark bruise surrounding it. It must have happened when they first took him. Will’s lip is swollen and busted open, and the wound looks much fresher, with bright-red blood dripping down his chin. That must have happened more recently.
Anger boils somewhere deep inside me, and I have to hold myself back from trying to inflict the same violence on Vasili. Instead I nudge him forward, away from me. I point over his shoulder to the far corner. “Go sit.”
He doesn’t move right away, so I dig the gun deeper into his flesh. “I will shoot you. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve killed someone.” It’s a lie; I’ve never shot anything except a man-shaped paper target at the range. But I keep my voice cold and whispery. I’m not in the business of hurting or threatening to hurt people, but apparently, I’m a quick study.
Something in my tone must convince Vasili that I’m not bluffing, because he wastes no time shuffling across the room to the corner.
“Sit,” I instruct, and he obeys immediately.
Without letting go of the gun, I set to work on Will’s bindings. Once he’s free, he’s careful getting up and favors his right side heavily. Clearly, the bruises on his face aren’t the only wounds he received at their hands. My skin itches with the desire to repay their kindness, but I restrain myself. My number one priority is getting Will out of there safely, and I can’t do that if I get caught up in my own need for vengeance.
“Can you tie him up, Will?”
He nods and retrieves the discarded cord from the floor. In no time flat, Vasili is bound in the chair with his hands still belted behind his back and his legs tied to the chair legs, and Will is standing in the center of the room waiting for direction.
Though, where we’ll go when we get away from here, I’m not sure. Petrov knows where I am. He knows who Will is. There’s no escaping him.
But I can’t worry about that at the moment. Right now, I’ve got to get Will to safety before someone else realizes we’re here. “Are you okay to walk?” I take a step toward him, but his eyes widen and he takes a step back. My soul deflates a little at his unspoken rejection, and I search his eyes for signs of anger, or disgust, or hatred.
But he’s not looking at me; he’s looking past me, toward the door. Something hard presses between my shoulder blades.
“Drop it,” a masculine voice pseudo-whispers just behind my right ear. “Did you really think we would give you directions right to us and not be waiting for you?”
I am a complete fool! I forgot the first rule of any criminal undertaking: always watch your six. While we were busy worrying about Vasili, someone else was getting the drop on me. I lower the gun to my side, and whoever is behind me snakes out a hand to relieve me of it.