Anita was a pretty Filipina stripper and prostitute working at a strip club when she agreed to go home with Andre. Andre drove them to a hotel routinely used by the strippers for dates with Johns. They made some small talk and his relaxed manner and smooth palavering eased any anxiety Anita felt. The manager and employees were cool with the arrangement. They were tipped for their discretion. Andre had already rented them a room on the second floor above the back exit where paying guests parked. As they entered the room, Andre acted very cool, offering her a drink and some coke. Anita eagerly slammed a glass of champagne. She sat on the bed and used a straw to do a fat line of coke. The coke was so good that she thought she was riding a rocket to the moon. She was shocked when she was seized by the neck and pinned on her back on the bed. She found herself looking up at another Latino, and this one was an ugly fellow with an acne scarred face, balding head, and dark evil eyes. He was taller and more muscular than Andre.
"Listen close, bitch you stole over two million in diamonds and you're going to tell me where you hid them. Understand?" he slightly eased the throat choke. Anita used the moment to suck in some oxygen and then nodded. He squeezed again and panic flooded her system with adrenaline. His huge hands entirely circled her throat and his arms were so long that Anita's hands couldn't even reach his face. His hands and arms felt like iron as her small fingers tried to pry them off her neck impotently. She realized he could kill her easily. She was pinned prey under a poised predator. Her glance strayed to Andre. He was filling a needle up with some vial. The ugly man clutching her answered her unspoken question.
"We're gonna inject some sodium pentothal in you. It will make you tell the truth, but won't offer any help against the pain I'll inflict if you piss me off. The smartest thing you can do is tell us where the diamonds are." he growled again at her.
Andre approached and she knew once she was injected her life would end at some soon point afterwards. Anita played her ace card. After her prior violent experiences, now during dates she always wore a long hairpin that resembled a hatpin. It was about six inches long with a sharp point and a couple inches of edge for thrusting and cutting hidden in her hair. She stopped grabbing at his arms and hands to suddenly seize the hairpin hiding in the long layers of silky hair spilling down her back. She savagely stabbed his big bicep. The pin pierced skin and slashed past muscle tissue into nerves. His eyes bulged in disbelief before the pain came. His punctured limb went numb on him. Anita became a berserker battling for her life. She jerked the pin free and blood jetted from some opened artery or vein. She used the pulled pin to stick his other arm that was pushing her down. The darting pin dug in deeply. He screamed and instinctively bolted off the bed away from the wild woman wielding a weapon with such wicked witch fury.
Anita bounced off the bed and found Andre blocking the door with his hypodermic needle ready. The man she'd stuck twice was getting up while studying his two wounds pulsing blood. “Stop that bitch!" He barked at Andre.
Anita didn't like her odds of trying to fight past Andre, especially with the other guy getting up. The only option was to go through the window behind her. It was a two story drop down to the awning below. Anita turned to run. She only made it a step before Andre grabbed her arm. She spun and swung a short strike that spiked his upper arm. The pin punctured half its length in him. Andre's hypodermic needle nailed her shoulder with such force it broke on bone, failing to inject the fluid in her. She wrenched away and hurdled through the curtains to smash past glass in a loud crash. The curtains helped shield her somewhat from the sharp shrapnel glass fragments. She fell two stories before bouncing on the tough tarp awning. It cushioned her fall. She bounced off it like a trampoline and smacked flat on the hood of a parked car.
She looked above seeing Andre peering down at her." Assholes!"She shouted at her furious foes. She shucked her other shoe and fled from the lot leaving a blood trail.
Bio:
Tom Kropp’s work has appeared in The Horror Zine, J Journal, Chiron Review, Churches, Children and Daddies, Down in the Dirt, Freedom Fiction Journal, Short-Story Me, Blood Moon Rising, Dark Harbor, Flash Phantoms, You Phantomaniacs Anthology, The Listening Eye, Evening Street Review, Conceit, Spotlight on Recovery, Outdoor Life and Muscle and Fitness. His play Jailhouse Confessions was performed at the Kennedy Center in 2019. He has numerous novels and audiobooks available. You can read more of his writings at https://tomkropp.wordpress.com.