Indy and the Control Freak 18

for the story so far

Indy and the Control Freak

“Hi Jay,” I greeted him, my voice raised in a question.  “What are you doing here?”

“Cut the crap Indiana,” he hissed at me.  “I come back from Afghanistan and you can’t fucking remember me.  I held you, I helped you when no one else would bitch.”

I fumbled for my phone but he clamped his hand down hard on it.

“Your boyfriend’s no good to you.  He’s out of commission. Get moving.” He tried pushing me.

“No,” I responded firmly and loudly causing several of my colleagues to pause in what they were doing.  “I’m not going with you.”  Jay may have some bizarre connection to me but I had a couple of years on the street.  The noise got noticed.

He pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it at the nearest staff member, she stood like deer in a headlight.

“Get moving or I start shooting.” He ordered me.

Someone yelled “Gun!”  Someone else yelled, “Get down.” There was plenty of commotion and the gun swiveled back to me.

He grabbed me.  I kicked out.  He jumped back, taking me with him.  I stumbled.

“Take the bag.” He commanded me, “And if you use it to hit me, you’ll die.”

My hands shook as I took the bag.  My mobile rang, and the other one Sam had given me, about three seconds apart.

“Leave it,” he pushed me out of the desk area.  I tripped over a chair leg.  Jay caught me.

“I don’t know who you are Jay,” I was after anything, any information so that I could work out who the fuck he was.

We rounded the corner and the silence that had fallen over the office ended.  Someone was on the phone.

He fired the gun into the ceiling.  Fuck, I hoped there was no one above us.

“Put the phone down.” He bellowed, but now he was at a disadvantage.

I could see someone’s mobile slide out from under the partition.  I did not know if to be horrified that someone was filming this, or pleased that I was on film for longer.

“Fuck,” he swore and he reefed me into his chest, looking around wildly, the walls, the floor, the ceiling.  “Your boyfriend’s still living.  I left him here, he must have regained consciousness.  Fucking golden boy. Fucking British prick.”

“Who are you,” I risked asking.  At least Sam was alive.

“That’s all the thanks I get, I left you flowers, I called to make sure you were okay.”

He kicked open the door to the stairwell. The bang ricocheted off the opposite wall and echoed.  Then he shoved me into the opening and fired three rounds down the stairs, and three rounds up the stairs.

I dropped the bag.

“Pick it up you ungrateful bitch. You liked me enough when I held you before.”

He pressed the button for the elevator with his elbow.  “You liked me enough when I weeded the garden with you, did not you notice how what you weeded stayed weeded.  That was me.  I was caring for you, you and that stupid fucking garden because that’s all the fuck you could look at.”

Maybe I should have apologized, but I had been on the streets and out there, you had to be strong.

“I still don’t have a clue who you are?”  A lie, he could have been half my senior college, but at least that was a defined number, maybe 60 men.  The only gardening I had done had been after my parents died.  I’d tried to instill life in this pathetic scrap of a garden at the school.  Anything except weeds withered and died.

The lift binged open and so much happened at once.  Something whizzed past me, Jay relaxed his grip and I was reefed out of his hold and into someone else’s.

I struggled.

“Shss Indy, it’s me.” Sam crooned.

I settled down and a man stepped past me, I did not notice any air movement. If I had not been looking, I would not have known he was there at all.

“That’s Ghost.  He’ll ensure Jay is secure.” Sam whispered.

The stairwell door opened and three police slipped out.  Heads appeared over partitions and Sam shunted me into the break room.


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