Married to my Ex-wife's boss

The Deed

CHAPTER THIRTY.

“Your time is up,” Mr. Denver’s voice was barely above a whisper, laced with weakness that David doubted could show on his face.

He swallowed hard. He could hear but could not see. But he didn't need to see to know who was speaking.

He had seen him through the peephole.

Common sense should have warned him of the strangeness of the visit. But he had smiled it off; glad to see him.

He now wondered painfully, what about Mr. Denver's presence could ever cause him to smile?

Bitterness swelled in his throat, spreading to his tongue. His chest compressed.

He struggled to breath as the enormousness of his stupidity fell on him.

He was the dumbest secret agent to ever live. He was for real, the worst. How could he have been so vulnerable?

The thought sliced through him with embarrassment. He preferred his face covered. He didn't want to see any emotion play out on the man's face nor did he wish to be seen.

“Didn't you hear me?” The voice rose. “I said, your time is up.” His voice registered anger. However the weakness laced like garlic in a fruit drink, did not disappear.

David was not afraid. No matter that case, he wouldn't be afraid. Firstly, because he didn't know what to fear for. Was it death?

He cancelled it quickly.

Whatever reason Mr Denver had to bring him out here, would not come to naught.

David understood the game. If he was to be killed immediately, he wouldn't have had the time to even hear anything more to come out to such an open location with cool, hot and warm breeze bamboozling him.

He would've been cut off at once right in his house.

Him being kept alive meant that Mr. Denver probably wanted to torture him, or to make him conscious enough before dying.

None of the ideas sounded pleasing but he would weather through it.

As an agent, this wasn't something new. Although he hadn't seen worse, he still trusted himself to escape unscathed.

He consoled himself with the thought that he still had more seconds to live therefore, more time to think.

“I don't know what to say to that,” he replied finally, the wind around, hitting his cheek harshly.

He swallowed hard again, bit his lips to stop him from saying more. He tried not to forget that he was at the mercy of an unpredictable man.

The man chuckled. David sensed him getting closer.

“Don't you have questions to ask? Surely there must be something bothering you,” the man said, voice terrifyingly close to David's ear, startling him.

He took some seconds to gather his bearings. It was hard to do.

He tried not to imagine him having a knife on his throat or suddenly pulling a knife and cutting off his tongue while he tried speaking.

He shuddered at the thought, mentally tapped himself for composure.

Then, he cleared his throat, swapped his tied hands, choosing a better position with less friction.

The fear that seemed not to exist was crawling dangerously into his heart.

“Why do you have me captive?” He asked finally, softly but not weakly. Whatever fear he felt was to be camouflaged into anything else.

He couldn't let the man use his fear against him.

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his buttocks. He must be sitting on an iron chair.

He tried to adjust to a better position but he was so firmly tied that he couldn't move more than an inch.

The man chortled in response, taking a few seconds to get himself.

“So you really don't know?” The surprise was evident in his voice and then that time of weakness, of vulnerability, followed suit.

“Are you feigning ignorance?”

David reflected confusedly. The words sounded more like ancient parables.

How would it have been possible for him to know why? He shook his head slightly believing the man to have gone queer in the head.

He has never taken notice of the man before. Now that he had, he couldn't help but think very unwise.

“No, I don't know,” he responded. “I don't know what you're talking about nor do I understand your insinuations,” he said.

The man chuckled again, this time, for seconds longer.

“Well, since you don't know,” he began. “I will tell you, at least I owe you that luxury,” he chuckled yet again.

David waited with attentive ears even though they were covered by the blindfold that was aimed to restrict his sight.

He was interested in knowing the reason a father-in-law would abduct a son-in-law. Or did this have to do with Roseline?

Did he think that he was blackmailing her into loving him?

That was too far. He cautioned himself. It was too bold an assumption to even consider.

“You're here because It's time for payback,” his words faded into his ears, his fingers pressing hard on his shoulders.

“You killed the love of my life, Roseline's mom,” the last part of the words sounded heavier than his normal speech tone but he didn't break down.

It was spoken with so strong a conviction that David almost believed him.

“It's time to pay you with the same coin,” he spat. David could not recognize the emotion in his voice.

It was hard to say it was for grief.

“Me???” He started forward but was restricted by the rope. It yanked him back in place and his head kicked a headache.

What was going on? He felt a sharp tinge in his brain. What was this man saying? He wondered, beginning to gather past pictures of people he had murdered.

“Are you sure sir—”

“You can go ask her when you meet her in hell,” Mr. Denver thundered for the first time. It startled David.

But before he could put two and two together, try recollecting more past events, he was flying, the air around him, whooshing noisily.

The cold air slapped him so fast that he couldn't even get the chance to understand his situation.

What was happening?