Free Dead Running by Cami Checketts Page A

father is . . . alive?”
    Muscle Man flipped me to face him. “We know you haven’t had contact with your father. That’s why we’re going to let you go. As long as you promise to be a good girl and not say anything to your police buddies or your grandmother, I promise to not keep you hostage. Even though you’d be fun to have around.” He grinned, deepening the ridges in his face. “Hostages are such a pain in the butt.”
    I shook my head, but it didn’t clear the gray matter. My poor heart wouldn’t slow down no matter what they promised, but at the moment I was almost as mad as I was scared. “Let me get this straight. All I have to do is read some script for your home video, claim I have a father, act like a scared little wussy,” which was no act , “and you’ll let me go?”
    He nodded. “That’s it.”
    My hands quivered, I had to clench them to pretend I was in control. “I’m not an idiot, Muscle Man. If you let me go,” my voice trembled at the possibility, “you’ve lost your leverage.”
    His loud chuckle rumbled through the van, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back at me. He took his time looking up and down my frame, his thick tongue bounced over chapped lips. He rubbed scarred fingers over my cheek. “Don’t talk me into keeping you.”
            “I-I’m not.” I truly was an idiot. My head swam and the nausea was getting harder and harder to swallow down. The only thing I wanted was to be miles away from this man who claimed to have killed my parents.
    “Unfortunately, my boss doesn’t want me to keep you long term.” His smile stretched from his capped teeth to his shiny baldhead. “All I need to do is get the Doc out of hiding. The second he calls your grandma to check on you.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got him.”
    Calls your grandma to check on you ? The early-morning phone call a few weeks ago. Could it possibly have been my father? The thought was insane, but I still couldn't dismiss it.  
    The van stopped. My heart clanked against my rib cage. What were they going to do to me now? Greasy Beanpole climbed over the console and started working the camera.
    Muscle Man escorted me to the seat, his fingers lingering on my lower back. I arched away from his touch. “I’m going to put a blindfold on you and hold a gun to your head, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”
    My digestive system dropped to my running shoes. “That sounds so encouraging.”
    Muscle Man pressed me into the seat and started wrapping rope around my midsection. I knew there was no hope of escape. Still I struggled.
    “Good,” he whispered into my ear. “Fight me. We’re videoing this. It looks perfect.”
    After I was securely tied, he covered my eyes with a filthy rag. I tried to fight him, spitting and thrashing. Ineffective, but all I had at the moment.
    “Okay,” he was at my ear again, his un-brushed breath scratching my skin. “Just respond to all my questions like you’re terrified.”
    “You’re nuts,” I yelled, centuries past terrified. The cold steel of a gun jammed into my temple. I stopped resisting. I stopped screaming. I stopped breathing. Tears leaked out, sticking the disgusting blindfold to my cheeks. Any fleeting thoughts of resistance disappeared as the pressure from the gun increased.
    “Haven’t we been good to you, Cassidy?” The man dragged the gun down my cheek and along my jaw line. I flinched away from the steel pressure. I was going to puke. I think I would’ve rather passed out though.
    I gulped and managed to spit out, “Too good.”
    Muscle Man chuckled. “She’s a beauty, Doc. Looks like your wife. Acts like you. Now, if you want this little princess to live a long, happy life I suggest you take a flight to Mexico City. We have a lot to discuss. You don’t come, Cassidy joins Mom, after I have some fun with her that is. Say bye to Daddy, Cassidy.”
    “Bye,” I muttered. My entire body shook. I tried to control it with