Chapter 4
Gideon paced—one and a half steps forward, one and a half steps back. What had he done?
After several seconds of nothing but heavy breathing and grunting, Rudy spoke. “I hope you have the keys to these things,” he said to Brett, giving the long, silvery chain another good yank.
“I don’t even know if there are keys.” Brett pointed the remote at the CD player—more Christmas tunes. “Feliz Navidad” by Jose Feliciano came on. “The cuffs were here when I came onboard, dude.”
“This is nuts.” Rudy tugged some more, his pec muscles bulging, his angry n*****s almost stiff enough to cut through ecru fabric.
“You’re gonna break the bar, bro.” Brett gripped his shoulder.
“Good.”
“Not good.”
“I’m calling the cops.” When Rudy went for his phone with his free hand, he fumbled. It fell to
