5 hours 5 hours was all it took for Mia to lose everything; her money, luggage and her old life. When Mia left her small town in Texas to New York City to pursue her dreams of being a writer, what she didn’t expect was to be scammed, tricked and to stumble upon a dangerous scene that puts her life on the line. Everyone in and out of the state knew who Aaron Lombardi was. Being the youngest billionaire with a thriving business was the reputation he built from scratch and was determined to keep. So when threats start coming in and his only clue is a red haired girl with a bit of an accent, he is determined to find the truth through any means possible.
View MoreMia
This is it. I feel the butterflies flooding into my stomach as I take in the crowded airport. I look around the airport hoping to catch sight of my housing agent who is meant to pick me up from the airport and drive me to my new apartment. I dial his number and it goes straight to voicemail.
“Excuse me.” a voice says behind me and I move away to let the woman walk by. I head to the waiting chair to avoid getting in the way of people who have places to be. The address of my new place is saved in my phone but I decide to wait for the agent for a while before heading out. My phone dings and I quickly check it only to see it’s from Noah asking if I have gotten to my place. Although he is just a few years older than I am, Noah acts a lot like an uncle. He moved to the Rio Verde sometime last year and we quickly hit it off as friends. I’m here all thanks to him and I hope I won’t go back empty handed.
I dial his number instead and he answers on the first ring. “Is this the next big author speaking?” He jokingly says and I scoff.
“I just got here.” Even though I try to act indifferent, the thought of having my book sold nationwide gives me butterflies.
“What about the apartment? How nice is it?” Noah asks. I hear the loud bang of the trunk of his ancient trunk and shake my head. Noah will rather chew nails than give out his trunk to a junkyard. I sigh and stretch out my legs.
“I’m waiting for the agent. His phone is not going through.” I reply.
“It should be 7pm over there. You have the address with you. Shouldn’t you go there already? I don’t think you should be walking around in the dark especially in a city you’re new to.” I can already imagine Noah dressed in his 1970s slacks shaking his head in disappointment.
“I’m going now. Don’t worry.” I assure him and I heard him sigh.
“Be safe.” The call ends and I stand up and tighten the strap of my backpack.
My eyes wander out of the airport and truly, it is already getting dark out. I open my last message with the agent and check the address. The apartment number and door pin are all there so I decide not to waste any more time. Dragging my two suitcases behind me, I walk out of the airport was is hit by a sudden hot air. It isn’t as hot as the air in Texas but it is hot enough to make me wish I’m not wearing a sweatshirt.
I flag down a taxi and thankfully, the driver helped carry my large bags.
“Where are you headed?” He asks and I call out the address the agent gave me. The driver furrows his eyebrows and glances at his wristwatch. “We should hurry.”
I feel the air hit my face and we drive passed the fancy high rise buildings. There are a lot of lights so it doesn’t even look like nighttime. The big city is surely different from my town, Rio Verde. I can already imagine my mom making dinner, the sheriff hunting down teenagers planning their next party, the small supermarket down the street playing soft pop music. The thought of it makes a small smile appear on my face but it is too early to feel homesick.
Soon after, the taxi enters into another part of the city that is less populated. The houses look broken down and in dire need of repairs. The alleys send shivers down my spine and I wonder how the apartment I’m to stay in fit into this part of the city. The taxi stops abruptly in front of a semi-decent looking apartment complex.
“Here we are.” The driver looks a little troubled as he stares at the rear view mirror and the side mirror simultaneously. I alight the taxi, half hoping he will help me with my bags but the hope quickly withers when he speeds off the minute my second suitcase touches the ground.
I look up at the building and check the address yet again. It is correct. I pull my bags behind me and enter the building. I am greeted by a subtle smell of stagnant water and sweat. Rushing to the elevator before the smell gets worse, only to be met with a small cubicle that has a number of similarities with a high school restroom. The wall of the elevator has stains on them, stains that looks like they’ve been there even before I was born. I click on the floor number and the elevator makes a loud noise before it starts moving. My heart begins to pound aggressively as scenarios of suffocating flash through my mind.
Thankfully, the elevator gets to my floor and stops. It makes another loud noise before the doors open. Apartment number 12. I stop in front of my supposed apartment. The doorstep is littered with different footwear but I don’t pay them any attention. I punch in the passcode the agent gave me but it doesn’t work. My heart rate begin to slow down and I take a deep breath. I conclude that it’s the nerves working. The passcode comes out incorrect again. I hear a loud cry from the apartment and I freeze. There should be a mistake. The apartment is meant to be empty. MY apartment is meant to be empty.
I slowly raise my fist and knock on the door. I check the apartment number for the fifth time in 3 minutes and it’s still the same.
“Coming!!” A tiny voice yells. The door is yanked open by a child not more than six. The large brown orbs stare up at me and I let out a shaky breath.
“I’ve warned you to stop opening the front door.” A woman appear behind the child, dragging him by his ear. “Go and turn off the heater.” She says before focusing her gaze on me.
“Hey, good evening. I.. uh.. I’m looking for..” I have no words to explain what was going on.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks glancing at my bags and I shake my head.
“I paid for an apartment online through an agent and I was given this address. I-I.. the agent is not picking up his calls. I think I-“
“Have been scammed.” The woman completes the sentence. Saying it out loud feels like I am being drenched in ice.
A loud crash erupts from the apartment and the woman sighs. “Milo!! I’ll break your legs!!” She yells, “Look sweetie, I would advice you find somewhere to spend the night for now. Being out by this time is not the best idea.” The door shuts in my face and the reality of the situation begins to sink in.
Maybe it is a wrong address.
Maybe it’s a wrong apartment number.
It has to be a minor mistake that will definitely be fixed by tomorrow. I slowly walk back to the death trap elevator while searching for the closest hotel to stay. I guess this part of the town has no plans for strangers as the only accommodation available is an inn.
I use my phone’s GPS to locate the inn. Maybe it’s the fear or anxiety but I feel eyes watching me as I tug my luggage behind me. There’s no sign of a taxi. The few people on the road hurry to their destinations. I say a short prayer and increase my pace. My arms aching from the large bags I packed. Some of my fingers are even becoming numb but the faint smell of weed tells me the source is close so I can’t stop to rest.
Sheila’s Inn looks just like I imagine it will: broken down, smelly and barely lit. The reception desk is empty and I wonder if I should’ve just begged the woman in Apartment 12 to let me stay the night but who will let a stranger stay in their place all of a sudden? No one. Two teenagers walk into the Inn chewing their gum loudly. One of them looks at me and smiles sweetly.
“Are you staying the night?” She asks and I slowly nod. The other girl looks at me head to toe and shrugs. “Sheila will be out in a second. She went to the bathroom. Just keep your stuff in the luggage cart and wait for her.” The girl continues.
“Thank you.”
I let out a breath of relief. The two girls help me load the bags inside the cart. I head over to the waiting area and try calling the agent but his phone goes straight to voicemail.
“Take more towels to room 2!” A voice orders and I look up to the reception. A woman who looks like she’s in her mid forties is already sitted there with a nasty scowl on her face. I look at who she was barking at only to see a man identical to her already carrying the towels. “How many nights are you staying?” It takes me a while to realize she’s talking to me. I shuffle my way to the desk and mumble a greeting. She raises her eyebrow at me impatiently.
“Just a night.” She nods her head.
“That will be an eighty.”
I open my wallet and take out a hundred dollar bill. She tears out a receipt and places a key on it.
“Take your stuff to the hallway by your left. Feel free to use the vending machine. Goodnight.”
I nod my head and turn to the direction of the luggage cart only to see it missing. I close my eyes and count to five before looking around. I am really not imagining it. My bags are not there neither is the luggage cart.
"Sheila? Where is the cart that was over there?” I ask.
“Cart?”
“Yeah,” I slowly turn to face her. “Two girls directed me to keep my bags there and wait for you and now…”
“Fuck my life.” Sheila swore, “Marcelo!! Those brats have robbed another customer.”
Robbed?
The man who was carrying towels rushes into the reception and looks at me with pity in his eyes. “I thought they were behind bars.” He said. He and Sheila begin to mumble amongst themselves but I can feel the air leave my lungs.
“What do you mean robbed?” I ask. Sheila shakes her head.
“Those two girls you met have been terrorizing us for a very long time. First, it started with petty theft and they eventually started robbing customers. Especially that god forsaken one with her sweet smile.”
Dread creeps over me like a cold blanket. My heart sinks, my stomach twists into knots, and my mind races with worst-case scenarios. My breath is caught in my throat as I watch the siblings mumble amongst themselves again.
A notification enters my phone and I overlook my mom’s text. 10:08pm just three hours of arriving and I have lost everything. I quickly rush out of the Inn hoping to at least see the girls but the street is dead. The only light available is the dull street light and the store at the far end of the street.
My bags not in sight.
MIAI walk out of the interrogation room, the bright lights of the police station still buzzing in my ears. The air outside feels heavy, thick with the unspoken questions that linger even after I’ve given my statement. My voice still feels raw from repeating the revised version of events, the one where Aaron doesn't exist in Mabel’s entire kidnapping. Every word I choose is calculated. I try to keep the rescue story straight to avoid implicating Aaron. They ask about the kidnappers, their motive, and the precise details of how Mabel was recovered. I invented a story about a random phone call that threatened me and made me travel back immediately. I explained that I arrived at the scene and saw them already on the ground. I describe the call, the men, anything to deflect from the real, dangerous complexity of it all. My heart pounds with each fabrication, but my face remains impassive. The police look at me with a mixture of sympathy and suspicion, but they have no real evidence to co
MIA“Mabel!” The name tears from my throat, a ragged whisper and a desperate shout all at once. She looks up, her eyes wide. A gasp, a small, fragile sound, escapes her as she sees me. In a flash, she’s running towards me away from Trina. Her little legs pump, a blur of motion, and then she’s in my arms.I drop to my knees, crushing her against me. My arms wrap around her so tightly I feel her small ribs press against my chest. “Are you alright? Are you hurt, baby?” My voice is raw, thick with unshed tears. I pull back just enough to search her face, my fingers tracing the soft curve of her cheek, checking for any bruise, any sign of trauma.Mabel nods, timidly at first, then more confidently. “Yes, Mia. I’m okay now.” Her voice is small, but steady. That simple affirmation is a lifeline tossed to my drowning soul. A shiver of profound gratitude runs through me, so intense it almost buckles my knees.I hold her closer again, burying my face in her hair. The world feels like it just e
TRINAThe words echo in my head: You handle Mabel. Aaron's voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. I hate Mia, her relationship or whatever with Aaron makes my blood boil but Mabel... Mabel is innocent. A child caught in a web of adult sins.I peel away from Aaron and Drew in the black SUV and head towards the storehouse. The address for Mabel screams trap, but I don't care. Aaron needs me to do this, and he knows I will do anything to get blood on my hands. Two goons stand guard outside the only visible entrance, leaning against the wall, looking bored. One yawns, the other scratches his belly. "This is bullshit," one of them complains. "Stuck babysitting a brat. What's the big deal? And she talks a lot, man."My blood boils. They have no idea who they are dealing with. I pull my silver Glock 19 from its holster, checking the silencer. The metal is cold against my skin, and it makes me shiver in pleasure. I creep closer, using the shadows as my ally. A steady breath, a focused
MIAThe warehouse air hangs thick with the scent of dust and fear. I watch as his face twists into something I can only describe as pure shock. His jaw slackens. His eyes, seconds ago filled with a cold triumph, now dart around like a trapped bird. Aaron and Drew stand framed in the doorway, silhouettes against the dim light, looking like dark angels of vengeance in a heroic movie.My abductor barely breathes. His hand, shaking slightly, clutches the document I gave him – the very document that was supposed to secure my freedom, or at least Mabel’s. He holds it tight to his chest, as if it’s a shield against the inevitable. His head shakes slowly, a desperate denial, as his gaze sweeps the expansive warehouse, searching, always searching, for an escape route that isn't there. Suddenly, the warehouse is no longer quiet. A flurry of movement erupts from the deeper shadows. Shouts echo, heavy boots pound against concrete. More goons, probably rush in. They must have heard the gunshot. T
AARONI grip the steering wheel, knuckles white as I slam the pedal to the metal. The Texas highway blurs into a grey streak outside the window. Drew's location is burned into my memory. He'd sent them a few minutes ago with a short text: "They brought her here."Rage, cold and sharp, coils in my gut. They think they can touch what's mine? They think they can just snatch Mia and her sister like they're some fucking prize? They have another thing coming.I know Drew is just waiting for the orders. I’m even surprised he didn’t act on impulse and barge into the place already. My car slowly comes to a stop.I spot Drew’s black SUV parked on the road ahead. He's leaning against the hood, arms crossed, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. The sun glints off his perfectly styled hair, a stark contrast to the grim determination churning inside me. As I pull up, Drew pushes himself off the car and saunters over, the grin widening as he climbs into the passenger seat. "Took you long enough, bo
MIAThe car rumbles to a halt. My heart, a frantic hummingbird, beats against my ribs. A rough hand yanks the blindfold from my eyes. The sudden rush of light makes me blink, disoriented, but I force my gaze to remain steady. I need to look confident, even though every cell in my body screams in terror.My bag is still clutched in my lap, miraculously intact. Inside, the carefully compiled documents on Aaron rest, a heavy secret. A chilling thought flickers: why didn't they just take the papers? Why abduct me from the taxi in broad daylight merely to escort me here? It makes no sense. There is no time to dwell on that thought. A firm grip on my arm propels me forward. I stumble slightly, regaining my footing. The air outside is cool, metallic, smelling faintly of dust and something acrid – probably chemicals from the industrial area we must be in. My eyes scan the bleak landscape; it’s an unknown warehouse. Knowing Texas we’ll, the government probably doesn’t know it even exists.The
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