Page 30 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

" Y ou talk when you're nervous, don't you?" an ominous voice said.

I tried to act cocky. "I'm not nervous."

In a slow, deliberate voice, almost filled with glee, he said, "You should be."

It was unsettling.

I think this is pretty much where we started.

“What do you want?” I said, still trying to sound tough.

“I want to make you an offer?” a man with an English accent said. He sounded sophisticated and regal.

“An offer?”

“An employment opportunity, really.”

“I don’t need a job, thank you.”

“Yes, you do.” He paused. “Right now, you’re on temporary disability.

Since your amnesia is not technically work- related, you’re not getting any worker’s compensation or special disability benefits.

If your condition persists, you may receive a medical separation.

You might be able to apply for permanent disability, but it’s probably not going to be enough to live on.

Not in this city. And you deserve so much more. ”

“You seem to know quite a bit about me. Who are you?”

With a smile in his voice, he said, “All in good time.”

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet. I think you might find it intriguing. Besides, I can help you sort out your current problem.”

“What problem is that?”

“Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about.

” After a brief moment, he said, “My apologies for the theatrics of our meeting, but you wouldn’t have come if I’d just asked.

And besides, I needed to test your situational awareness and stress response.

” Then he muttered, “By the way, your situational awareness sucks. It’s understandable.

You’ve been through a lot. But you need to get your focus back. ”

He wasn’t lying.

“Now your stress response, on the other hand… that seems good. You’re calm, cool, snarky. You’re handling it quite well.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Mr. X. That’s all you need to know for now.”

“I don’t like this. Release me now. ”

“I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Hear me out, and the gift is yours—whether you accept my offer or not.”

After a pause, the black bag was pulled off my head.

Several men wearing all black, with black balaclavas covering their faces, surrounded me.

"Cut her loose," Mr. X said.

One of them pulled out a small tactical knife with an anodized blade and cut through the flex cuffs on my ankles.

It might've been a dumb move, but I took the opportunity to kick him in the face. I launched from my chair and the others closed in around me. With my hands still cuffed behind my back, I spun around and kicked one of them away, but it didn't take long for the others to tackle me.

"You’ve got a lot of spirit. I like that," Mr. X said, lording over me. "But that's not necessary. I'm trying to free you.”

I continued to struggle as they all pinned me to the floor.

“Cut her loose,” X said.

“I’m trying, but she’s being difficult. If she would stop being difficult…”

I finally relaxed, and as promised, they cut me loose.

The group parted, forming a circle around me, giving me a wide berth. Nobody else wanted to get kicked in the face.

I climbed to my feet and glared at the masked men .

I was indeed in an old warehouse. The cavernous space was dark, and shafts of moonlight filtered through the windows.

Mr. X shined a flashlight on me. The bright beam squinted my eyes. "If you're done roughhousing, I'd like to give you your gift.”

“The toughest prison to escape from is the one you don’t know you’re in.” Mr. X removed the beam from my eyes and pointed the flashlight at the floor. He walked across the room to another door, then looked back over his shoulder at me. "Are you coming?”

I gave another uncertain glance around at his underlings, then followed him.

He pulled open the door and held it for me, motioning inside. He used the beam of the flashlight to illuminate the way.

I gave him a cautious look, then peered into the room. It was another empty, cavernous space. In the center of the room there was another man tied to a chair with a black bag over his face.

"Go ahead, he doesn't bite. Well, not at the moment.”

I stepped into the room with caution.

Mr. X followed behind me.

"Who is that?" I asked.