Why would he shoot them, they don’t even see us? Looking over his shoulder he gives me a look of warning.
“Whatever you’re doing, stop!” I whisper loudly, digging my feet into the ground. I won’t be a part of this. I’ll never come back from this. Older people are like cute little kittens or puppies. You can’t help but fall in love with their helplessness. Ignoring me he continues forward, dragging me behind.
“Zeek—”
“Shut up, Jillian,” he snaps.
Sucking in a trembling breath, I shut my mouth. I don’t know if he’d hurt me, but I clearly don’t know Zeek like I thought I did, so I bite my bottom lip to keep quiet.
I was worried about the scary motel? Ha, the scariest thing out here is Zeek fucking Deluca.
Satisfied with my silence, he steps up behind Donald and presses the barrel of his gun into the gentleman’s back.
A sob breaks through my pinched lips.
“Which room is yours?” Zeek questions quietly, the sound of his voice is unrecognizable. I’ve never heard it before. It’s sharp, cutting through the night air and everyone within hearing distance.
The man tenses, and tries to look over his shoulder.
“Donald?” The lady standing outside of what I assume is their room, looks over her shoulder discovering her husband at gunpoint. “Oh my!” Her eyes light up, and a hand clutches her chest.
“Move,” Zeek growls, thrusting the gun into his back further.
“Alright now, just—just take it easy, yeah?” Donald steps toward the door, and looks at his wife with worry. My body winds up so tight, I feel like I might break in two watching this unfold in front of me. “Open the door, Mildred.” The little old lady looks at Zeek, then me. Her blue eyes bright and youthful, despite the wrinkles creasing her round face.
She nods, the little curlers bouncing on her head. Turning, she unlocks the door, and Zeek shoves Donald and Mildred inside the room.
Placing his gun in the back of his pants, Zeek turns around and shoves me in front of him.
“This is wrong, Zeek.” He doesn’t even flinch, I know my fight here is pointless. “Please don’t hurt them,” I plead, as I descend into the musky motel room.
CHAPTER THREE
Jillian
ZEEK’S FOREHEAD CREASES, as he presses his hand into my shoulder, pushing me backwards until the back of my legs hit the closest bed. Applying pressure on my shoulder, he forces me to sit down on one of the motel beds.
“Zeek, are you even listening to me?” Ignoring me he unlocks one of the cuffs and my hand regains blood flow, causing it to tingle unbearably. I sigh with relief, my mind now on my wrist instead of the fact we just held an elderly couple at gunpoint. Taking the empty cuff? he fastens it to the old bed post.
What the hell?
“You can’t cuff me to a bed, Zeek!” I object, my eyes wide. Anger licking up my limbs, replacing my need to protect and serve the elderly couple.
“You stay in the cuffs, and they stay attached to the bed. If they’re on you, then you can’t punch me in the face again.”
“I’m sure I can work around them,” I snide.
“You.” He points the gun at the couple, ignoring me. “Over there, where I can see you.” He points to a table with two stained chairs.
“Alright now, Sonny, you ain’t got to aim that at us. We’ll listen to whatever you ask of us, just don’t hurt us.” Donald ushers his wife toward one of the chairs.
My chest pains that Zeek is doing this to them.
Looking around the room it’s small. There are two beds with floral blankets, and one lopsided night table in between them. It has stained burgundy carpet, which match the drapes, and the wallpaper on the wall peeling in such a way that could only be compared to a horror movie scene.
“You expecting company?” Zeek pulls a curtain back, peering outside the window that has so much buildup on it, you can barely see out it.
“No, no company.” The man shakes his head, holding his wife’s hand tightly.
“We’re visiting our Leslie, she’s such a fine young lady.” Mildred beams with joy, and I can’t help the bewildered look crossing my face at her cheerful demeanor considering the circumstances. “Ya know, she was nominated best in her class.” She nods her head excitedly, looking between Zeek and me. “She gets that from me. I used to be a teacher.” Donald rolls his eyes with a heavy breath, as if Mildred does this often. “My doctor told me I have empty nest syndrome, but I say bull snot to that.”
Zeek turns and looks at me like the woman has lost her mind, as he closes the curtain.
“Are you two hungry? We have leftovers.” She lets go of Donald’s hand, and steps toward Zeek with a takeout box in her hand, not caring that he’s pointing a gun at her. I can’t help but narrow my eyes in shock. She’s crazy.