Bullets Are My Business (9781101616413) by Josh K. Stevens

cast my eyes around the silent room. I could do the math and I could see that I really had no chance of fighting my way out. Campbell had come prepared. There were at least thirteen guys standing around in the minuscule foyer, all of them packing heat and ready to blow. I knew, then and there, that I was about to die.
    I was oddly at peace with it. Granted, I could feel the pent-up rage and frustration at what Eva, beautiful, backstabbing bitch that she was, had done to me. But I wasn’t afraid. I was just sick of waiting. I spat some blood on the floor.
    â€œIf you’re going to kill me,” I said, “let’s get this show on the road. I don’t have all night.”
    Campbell didn’t say anything for a good five minutes, which, kneeling on the floor in the midst of thirteen armed men with a thirst for blood, felt like a hell of a lot longer. He stood, almost motionless, aside from the occasional movement as he brought his cigarette to his lips and then back down to his side. He stood there in silence and stared at me, as though he were thinking of what should be done next. As if he didn’t already have this whole night mapped out in his head. He looked calm, cool, collected, as he always did, but I could see the fiery anger raging in his eyes as they tore through me. Finally, he finished his cigarette and tossed it aside. He moved past me and toward the front door. As he neared the doorway, he nodded back toward me over his shoulder.
    â€œTake care of him.”
    A sharp thunk on the back of my head and I fell forward, back into darkness.
    When I opened my eyes, I thought I was in a coffin.
    Then I realized that coffins don’t come equipped with brake lights or spare tires. Even though the space was confining and the air was far too tight, I hadn’t been buried alive. It took me a few seconds to adjust and I realized I was in the trunk of a car. A coffin would’ve been better. I pulled at my wrists, finding them tied behind my back. That’s never a good sign. I didn’t know where we were headed and I didn’t know how long I had been out for, but I knew right away that time was of the essence. Campbell and his men had been one up on me. Now it was my turn to ambush them. I was flying by the seat of my pants, but I knew I had to be ready for them when they opened the trunk. However, in order to be ready, I knew that I had to free my hands.
    I brought my legs up to my chest and silently maneuvered my bound hands around my ass. It was a tricky job and I was trying to be silent so as not to alert the passengers in the car. It was a lot harder than one might have anticipated. My stomach muscles were burning and my legs felt like they were on fire, but after some trying, I was able to move my arms around my legs. I was out of breath, but my hands were in front of me. I checked my shoulder holster. Empty. I patted down all of my pockets. Bupkis. Even my knife was gone. I was going to have to make do with what I had. Nothing.
    I reached up and pulled the tape off of my mouth, stifling a yelp as I did. I closed my eyes and attempted to come up with some sort of a game plan. The trunk of the car went red as the brake lights flared to life. My breath caught in my throat as I awaited the sounds of the car doors slamming and people moving toward the trunk, but the sound never came. The brake lights faded and I felt the car move forward. Obviously we had come to a stoplight. I started breathing again. I looked up at the interior of the trunk and a smile crossed my raw lips. A small piece of metal was jutting out just a few inches above me. It was jagged. Just what I needed. Thank God for imperfections.
    I placed my hands on either side of the metal and began rubbing the rope back and forth. Every saw motion I made sounded deafening in the confining quarters of the trunk. I hoped no one in the car could hear me. Not that I really had any other options even if they could. I just had to