Page 3 of Bronx

“You called me little Masterson before,” I say to the pot-bellied one as I remember more about the moment I was jarred awake. “You know who I am.”

“I do.”

“Then you know my father will pay you whatever you want if you let me go.”

“You people think everything is about money,” the man scoffs. “We don’t need your money.”

Who’s we I wonder?

“You speak for The Consortium?” I ask, testing him.

The man cocks his head to the side and asks sinisterly, “You know Consortium?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“If you don’t want money, then what else do you want?” I change the subject quickly.

“Very simple, little Masterson, I want your Father.”

“And what does he have to do with this?”

“Everything.”

The man flashes a set of very grey-colored teeth as he grins at me, and for the first time since I woke up in this predicament, I am starting to truly worry about my future.

I don’t think these two have any intentions of letting me go and if I had to guess, I am simply bait for them to catch and kill my father.

I guess Grandpa Joe wasn’t just talking out of his ass about our family being targets of some sinister revenge plot. I’m starting to really regret shaking the security detail my parents put on me and Seven. It was a dumb thing to do and now I’m paying the price.

Actually, that’s a selfish thought. It’s not just me who’s affected by abduction, this puts my entire family at risk and has probably sent my Mom off the deep end.

“Why take me?” I ask with little emotion but with deep purpose. I need to get into the head of this man if I have any chance in hell of getting out of here alive, plus redeem myself for getting caught in the first place.

“Because I did my homework and, out of all your father’s weaknesses, you were the easiest to exploit.”

“His children?”

“You specifically, little one. You’re loud and brash, so you’re easy to track. We just waited for the right time and here you are.”

The arrogant smirk on the guy’s face as he tells me his reasoning hurts me harder than the binds around my wrist.

He only affirms what I suspected long ago. I’m not hard and formidable like my father, or confident like my older brother Knox, or as smart as my twin brother Seven.

What I am is the weakest link of the Masterson clan, and now my entire family is going to pay the price for it.

My captor pulls, checks his cell phone and grumbles. “He’s not answering his cell and I’m starving,” he tells the watch dog. I consider what he says and deduce that he is not actually the one in charge. There is somebody else who sanctioned this. He answers to a higher power.

“I’m going to get us some Chinese. They don’t deliver out this far, and we’re going to have to post up here for a while.” The old fucker gives me a stern warning glance. “And keep eye on this little shit.”

“Yep.”

There is an uncomfortable silence in the air after the main guy exits the cabin, and now the watch dog is focused on me in a way that’s different from earlier, but still he says nothing.

Fuck it, I don’t care if he’s watching me.

I start wiggling my wrists again. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m not just going to let them kill me. I may be a fuck up, but one thing I can do is fight.

After ten long minutes of struggling, the open wounds on my hands are starting to burn and hope that I’m going to get out of this is starting to wane.