(By way of explanation, this partial scene occurs a few short weeks or months before Chapter 1 of Tina’s Fight Back. As it happens, this is also the same timeline of the parrallel story, The Stories That Bind, Book 2, which I’m writing with @AllyLogan . I was goin g to try to make it a surprise that these two stories were connected but it’s getting to hard so screw it, cats out of the bag. lol.

You may want to go back to those already published stories so this makes sense. 😉

Lots more coming, SOON. Hope you have fun reading. )

(thank you @LizzyTzee for this image I borrowed).

My memory was coming back in flashes. Hopefully I’ll remember why I can’t move soon. Wait. That’s right. I was following Lizzy, carefully…I thought…I heard something crack and then I woke up. Here.

My chest and my cheek were pressed down on a hard surface. It felt like half of my body weight was concentrated on my face. And my back was arched a LOT.

I shift my weight a little and my mouth rolled over the surface causing me to bite down on the rubber ball between my teeth.

Shit. I’m tied up. And gagged. And my head is killing me.

“That’s because I kicked you in the face Tina.” Lizzy couldn’t really be talking to me. He’s a ninja assassin but he’s not a telepath.

“Fuck your for kicking me so hard.” Lizzy laughed at me. Also, what’s that ticking sound? I strained hard to lift my chest up off the desk. That’s right. There was a desk. I was looking for files in a desk.

“I took the files with me Tina. Not that you should be worrying about THOSE. Shouldn’t you be trying to get untied? I thought that’s what you were good at.” Lizzy gets more Smug every time he beats me up.

My wrists are together and almost touching my ankles. They’re tight. They’re cinched but they aren’t cinched together. Pulling against isnt creating slack in the other. He’s getting better at…

“I’m getting better at my rope work aren’t I Tina?” My head is killing me.

“Hey! I was in the middle of saying that. Rude asshole.” What’s that ticking. And why am I argue with a figment of my imagination?!?

My back was starting to hurt. I was still holding my chest up while I was arguing with my mental image if Lizzy. I collapsed back onto the dresser to rest.

“Don’t do that Tina. What about the ticking?” Dang it. He’s right. I need to find the ticking. It’s probably a timer. If it’s a timer, it might be attached to something that goes “boom.”

My eyes are starting to focus better. And my mind is regaining clarity. The file has the address I need.

“Had the address!” Imaginary Lizzy taunted me.

“Go fuck yourself. You’re not real. And you’re short too!” That last part was mean to say but I’m pretty sure Lizzy is trying to blow me up so I felt justified.

I waited for a comeback but imaginary Lizzy was gone and I was alone and dangling in about the tightest hogtied I’ve been in. Exhausted with a headache getting worse by the minute.

“When I get out of this, I should recruit some help. Maybe that chick from the boat. She seemed really capable ( @AllyLogan ). “

I groaned from the effort but I pulled myself up off the desk again. Sure enough, just behind me on the desk was an analog clock. The “old fashioned” kind favored by sentimental hired muscle to integrate into murder bombs.

“3 minutes, 16 second, and counting,” the upside down numerals flipped every second, on the way down to ‘Boom.’”

I also noticed my elbows were practically touching. And not much time. “Breathe Tina. Lizzy is a blunt object. Not a rigger.”

On cue, my fingers found a knot. I started working it and felt it giving.

“Better, but not great yet, Lizzy.” My gagged mouth smiled as I quickly and methodically began getting free.

“Next time we’ll do this, I’m going to know you’re coming you cheap shotting son of a bitch.”