Free Run Away by Victor Methos

started struggling and kicking his legs.
    “Get up , dipshit. We’re here.”
    Tate pulled out a bag he’d brought as a back-up plan. Richard had wanted him to kidnap his wife, take her to an RV park, and kill her there. The RV wouldn’t have been bothered for a long time, and the body would have just been sitting there, decomposing until someone noticed the smell. But dumping her in the ocean would be easier. Less messy. And the cops would probably never find it.
    Tate took out three ski masks and tossed one to each man. He was the first one out of the RV, and he didn’t wait for the other two. Sneaking through the bushes, he slid along the garage and knocked on the door. The neighborhood was dark, but it was possible the neighbors could see them. He needed to work quickly.
    He heard the lock unfasten , and a young girl opened the door. She tried to scream, but Tate rushed her. He slapped his palm over her mouth, muffling her scream, and picked her up off her feet as he pushed the door open and stomped inside. Hiapo and Sticks followed him.
    Tate pinned the girl onto the floor . “Watch her,” he told the other two.
    Hiapo placed his foot on the girl’s chest, but he didn’t hold her mouth. He just said, “Shh,” and she complied.
    Tate scanned the living room. The art on the walls, the rugs, and the furniture—everything there looked expensive. None of it looked like anything he’d seen before. The place must’ve been worth a million bucks.
    The ceiling creaked. Someone was walking around up stairs. Tate looked over at the staircase near the kitchen then ascended the stairs as quietly as he could. Sticks didn’t follow him. Instead, he began going through drawers.
    When Tate got to the top of the stairs, he heard a shower turn on. He glanced into a few of the bedrooms then tiptoed to the bathroom. The door was open a crack. Inside, Sharon was standing in front of the mirror, stripping off her clothes. He stared at her as she slipped off her bra. But as she pulled her spandex down over her thighs, she happened to glance over at the door. Their eyes caught each other’s, and there was an instant of silence before she screamed.
    Tate went to push into the bathroom , but she slammed the door and locked it. He leaned back and bashed his heel into the door. He did it again and again, sending splinters flying all over the hallway. The door flew open and slammed into the wall before bouncing back. The bathroom was massive, larger than most apartments he’d had. Tate crept inside. He went to the darkened walk-in closet and flipped on the light.
    A thick shower rod smashed into his nose. He saw stars and instantly felt tears running from his eyes. The pain radiated into his head. “Fuck!” His hand went to his nose, which was already gushing blood into his mouth and over his chin.
    She swung again. He blocked the club with his forearms. Reaching back, he whipped his arm with as much force as he could. The back of his hand impacted against her mouth and sent her flying into a row of men’s suits. Tate grabbed her hair and slammed her into the wall before flinging her to the floor. She wasn’t moving.
    His gushing blood had already stained the carpet in the closet. Tate lifted his soaked ski mask. The liquid dripped down as if his nose were connected to a faucet. Plugging his nose with his fingers, he walked out of the closet and leaned against the sink. He shoved a thick wad of toilet paper up each nostril.
    Sticks ran in. He looked from Tate to Sharon, who was nearly unconscious, and then disappeared into the bedroom.
    Through the tinted-glass window over the bathtub, Tate stared down at a passing car, catching his breath. Then he rose and pulled Sharon up. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slapped them on her wrists. She was aware enough that she began struggling, and he smacked the back of her head.
    “If you try to run,” he said , spitting blood, “I’ll kill you.”
    He dragged her down to