100 Hours
Page 29
“Cash. Name your price.” I wait a heartbeat, while he decides whether or not to take me seriously. Then I move in for the kill. “For all of us.”
Offer them something they want, but on your terms, Genesis.
My father taught me that strategy when I was eleven. It’s been useful at school, and even more useful with Holden. But out here, it might save lives.
Sebastián’s dark brows rise. “You think you can get your papá to pay for six hostages?”
“I can get him to pay for eight. He doesn’t know Maddie and Ryan are . . . gone.” I shove back my grief and rage and push through with my initial offer. “If you knew my dad, you’d know he’ll give me whatever I ask for, and he can have a plane here in a couple of hours. You’ll get credit for bringing in the ransoms. What do you want? A hundred grand each?”
Sebastián laughs, and I have to work to unclench my jaw.
When in doubt, add another zero, my father’s voice says in my head.
“One million each. That’s eight million dollars.” My dad keeps more than that in his emergency safe at home.
But now Sebastián looks insulted, and alarm bells go off in my head. I have no idea how much they were going to demand for our release.
“Name your price. Just let me call my father,” I insist. But he’s already shaking his head. Frowning. I’m missing something. “Unless . . . this isn’t about money?”
My backpack suddenly feels heavier than it did a second ago. Have I read this whole thing wrong?
“Why is everything about money with you Americans?” Sebastián demands, and those alarm bells swell into a siren. “We need your papá’s resources.” He pulls me to a halt and leans in until I can’t see anything but his gaze burning into me. “We need Hernán Valencia to remember where his loyalties ought to lie.”
MADDIE
“Holy shit.” Luke blinks, stunned, and the unused rock falls from his hand. “I can’t—” He blinks again, then scrubs his face with both hands. “Do you think he’s okay?” “I hope not.” Moisés is breathing, but the gash on the back of his head is oozing blood and already swelling into a huge lump. “How did you do that?” I push myself to my feet. “Do you play baseball?”
“Only on my Xbox. I didn’t even have my eyes open, Maddie. Total lucky shot.” He puts one hand on top of his baseball cap, still stunned, and the reality finally hits me.
Somehow, he’s still alive. And un-captured. And he just saved my life.
“Luke—” I pull him into a hug, and he feels a lot more solid than I expected. “I thought you were dead.”
He returns my embrace with an awkward one of his own. “I left camp to pee right before the soldiers came, and when I heard them rounding everyone up, I hid in the brush. Are you okay?”
“No.” I let him go and swipe at my face with shaking, dirt-caked hands.
“We should probably . . .” He slides the automatic rifle out of the gunman’s reach with his foot.
The gash on the back of Moisés’s head is still steadily leaking blood. “I wish you’d killed him,” I whisper.
“I don’t.”
I glance at Luke in surprise. “He and his friends—” The word gets stuck in my throat. “They murdered my brother!” They all deserve to die for that.
“They’re killers. I’m not. We need to tie him up.” Luke plucks the nylon cord from Moisés’s relaxed fist, then squats over his thick thighs, but I can only stare as I struggle to keep the world in focus.
None of this feels real.
“Hey, Maddie? A little help?”
I squat in the dirt and lift Moisés’s arms into position behind his back. Luke winds the cord around the gunman’s wrists, then ties some kind of complicated knot.
I home in on his fingers. “Where’d you learn that?”
“Scouts.”
Of course he’s a Boy Scout. Because what else would get a fifteen-year-old math genius/gamer out of the house on weekends?
“I’ll get more rope.” I slide a large knife from the sheath strapped to Moisés’s belt and march to the nearest tent, where I cut a long section from one of the cords holding it in place. When I get back, Luke has emptied everything from the gunman’s pockets. He’s found a small fishing kit, a bottle of water, a folding multi-tool, and a large, clunky two-way radio.
“Here.” I hand him more cord to tie Moisés’s ankles together. “Does that radio work?”
“Yeah, but we’re not within range of any others. All I heard when I tried it is static.”
“If we were in range, we’d hear . . . what? The other kidnappers?”
Luke shrugs as he finishes his knot. “Assuming we’re tuned to the right frequency.”
My gaze is drawn back to my brother.
Ryan’s eyes are closed. He looks like he’s sleeping, but he’s gone, and I’m never going to get him back.
My brother is never going to wake up. But Moisés will.
Rage pours in to fill the hole left in my heart as I stare at the unconscious gunman. I pull my foot back and kick his thigh as hard as I can. But there’s no reaction, and that only stokes the fury crackling inside me.
So I kick him in the ribs. Again and again.
Something cracks, and he wakes up screaming.
GENESIS
“Silvana,” I call in a loud, clear voice as I make my way to the front of the line. Holden gives me a small shake of his head, and Penelope looks terrified. Indiana’s gaze skips from captor to captor, assessing their reactions with his usual quiet intensity. Rog watches me somberly, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“What’s wrong, princesa?” Silvana sneers. “Need a break to repair your nail polish?”
“Let’s end this.” I still don’t want to deal with her, but if that’s what it takes to drive a wedge between our captors . . . “I’m prepared to give you whatever you want.”
Sebastián shakes his head at me in warning.
“You’re prepared . . . ?” Silvana laughs, and most of her men chuckle. “You’re just a spoiled little girl.”
Offer them something they want, but on your terms, Genesis.
My father taught me that strategy when I was eleven. It’s been useful at school, and even more useful with Holden. But out here, it might save lives.
Sebastián’s dark brows rise. “You think you can get your papá to pay for six hostages?”
“I can get him to pay for eight. He doesn’t know Maddie and Ryan are . . . gone.” I shove back my grief and rage and push through with my initial offer. “If you knew my dad, you’d know he’ll give me whatever I ask for, and he can have a plane here in a couple of hours. You’ll get credit for bringing in the ransoms. What do you want? A hundred grand each?”
Sebastián laughs, and I have to work to unclench my jaw.
When in doubt, add another zero, my father’s voice says in my head.
“One million each. That’s eight million dollars.” My dad keeps more than that in his emergency safe at home.
But now Sebastián looks insulted, and alarm bells go off in my head. I have no idea how much they were going to demand for our release.
“Name your price. Just let me call my father,” I insist. But he’s already shaking his head. Frowning. I’m missing something. “Unless . . . this isn’t about money?”
My backpack suddenly feels heavier than it did a second ago. Have I read this whole thing wrong?
“Why is everything about money with you Americans?” Sebastián demands, and those alarm bells swell into a siren. “We need your papá’s resources.” He pulls me to a halt and leans in until I can’t see anything but his gaze burning into me. “We need Hernán Valencia to remember where his loyalties ought to lie.”
MADDIE
“Holy shit.” Luke blinks, stunned, and the unused rock falls from his hand. “I can’t—” He blinks again, then scrubs his face with both hands. “Do you think he’s okay?” “I hope not.” Moisés is breathing, but the gash on the back of his head is oozing blood and already swelling into a huge lump. “How did you do that?” I push myself to my feet. “Do you play baseball?”
“Only on my Xbox. I didn’t even have my eyes open, Maddie. Total lucky shot.” He puts one hand on top of his baseball cap, still stunned, and the reality finally hits me.
Somehow, he’s still alive. And un-captured. And he just saved my life.
“Luke—” I pull him into a hug, and he feels a lot more solid than I expected. “I thought you were dead.”
He returns my embrace with an awkward one of his own. “I left camp to pee right before the soldiers came, and when I heard them rounding everyone up, I hid in the brush. Are you okay?”
“No.” I let him go and swipe at my face with shaking, dirt-caked hands.
“We should probably . . .” He slides the automatic rifle out of the gunman’s reach with his foot.
The gash on the back of Moisés’s head is still steadily leaking blood. “I wish you’d killed him,” I whisper.
“I don’t.”
I glance at Luke in surprise. “He and his friends—” The word gets stuck in my throat. “They murdered my brother!” They all deserve to die for that.
“They’re killers. I’m not. We need to tie him up.” Luke plucks the nylon cord from Moisés’s relaxed fist, then squats over his thick thighs, but I can only stare as I struggle to keep the world in focus.
None of this feels real.
“Hey, Maddie? A little help?”
I squat in the dirt and lift Moisés’s arms into position behind his back. Luke winds the cord around the gunman’s wrists, then ties some kind of complicated knot.
I home in on his fingers. “Where’d you learn that?”
“Scouts.”
Of course he’s a Boy Scout. Because what else would get a fifteen-year-old math genius/gamer out of the house on weekends?
“I’ll get more rope.” I slide a large knife from the sheath strapped to Moisés’s belt and march to the nearest tent, where I cut a long section from one of the cords holding it in place. When I get back, Luke has emptied everything from the gunman’s pockets. He’s found a small fishing kit, a bottle of water, a folding multi-tool, and a large, clunky two-way radio.
“Here.” I hand him more cord to tie Moisés’s ankles together. “Does that radio work?”
“Yeah, but we’re not within range of any others. All I heard when I tried it is static.”
“If we were in range, we’d hear . . . what? The other kidnappers?”
Luke shrugs as he finishes his knot. “Assuming we’re tuned to the right frequency.”
My gaze is drawn back to my brother.
Ryan’s eyes are closed. He looks like he’s sleeping, but he’s gone, and I’m never going to get him back.
My brother is never going to wake up. But Moisés will.
Rage pours in to fill the hole left in my heart as I stare at the unconscious gunman. I pull my foot back and kick his thigh as hard as I can. But there’s no reaction, and that only stokes the fury crackling inside me.
So I kick him in the ribs. Again and again.
Something cracks, and he wakes up screaming.
GENESIS
“Silvana,” I call in a loud, clear voice as I make my way to the front of the line. Holden gives me a small shake of his head, and Penelope looks terrified. Indiana’s gaze skips from captor to captor, assessing their reactions with his usual quiet intensity. Rog watches me somberly, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“What’s wrong, princesa?” Silvana sneers. “Need a break to repair your nail polish?”
“Let’s end this.” I still don’t want to deal with her, but if that’s what it takes to drive a wedge between our captors . . . “I’m prepared to give you whatever you want.”
Sebastián shakes his head at me in warning.
“You’re prepared . . . ?” Silvana laughs, and most of her men chuckle. “You’re just a spoiled little girl.”
