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Dangerous Debutant E 13

In the last installment: Mark and Sunni race recklessly to the De La Croix Mansion. Once arrived, Sunni suddenly becomes cautious. Sunni goes alone inside the house leaving Mark alone yards away from the entrance. He is soon not alone as he is spotted and chased by two men, one armed. Mark overtakes the unarmed man.

The two men roll entangled a couple of times until finally they rise to their feet. Standing, Mark has one hand wrapped around both his opponent’s arms and pulled so far behind the man’s back that his shoulder blades nearly touch. Mark’s other arm is around his opponent’s neck and a sharp object pressed against soled shoes’ neck.

Staring into the barrel of a revolver and forcing the words out between deep breaths, “Drop that or I slice open his throat.”

The man with the revolver surveys the scene and then smirks, “That will take a long time using your cute pink rabbit’s foot.”

The white man called his bluff. There was really nothing on Sunni’s keychain that makes a good weapon, but out of all of them, Mark had to latch onto the rabbit’s foot.

Mark relaxes a moment and then suddenly shoves his captor into the other man. He turns and takes a few quick strides away from the point of the revolver.

A loud pop is soon followed by the piercing of the ground beneath Mark’s feet. Mark continues to run. A second shot shortens Mark’s stride which causes him to stumble and fall to the plush green lawn.

By the time Mark recovers back to his feet, the two men have caught up to him. The unarmed man is crouching to Mark’s right. Straight ahead, a little more than an arm’s length away, the armed assailant stands with the revolver pointed directly at Mark’s chest.

“I dare you to run now.”

Mark gives some thought to accepting that dare. He wonders if the shooter missed him on purpose or was that an indication of his best marksmanship. Mark’s decision is made as soon as the unarmed man shoves him toward the entrance of the house. Mark surrenders for now.

Mark imagines many of his ancestors marched the fields of similar plantations in front of a pointed gun. Slavery, sharecropping under unfair contracts and legalized involuntary servitude to pay minor indebtedness gave white landowners inhumane power over them.

This thought fans a flame of centuries of anger inside that Mark hasn’t felt in a while. Something his closest white friends cannot fully understand.

Soon inside and escorted to the library, Mark is greeted by a portly, slightly balding rugged looking man. Beside him is Sunni tied to a chair. She looks painfully uncomfortable. Her arms are pulled back behind the chair so tightly that her shoulders are pinned back unnaturally. Her legs are pulled so far under the chair you cannot see her feet.

“Well, if it isn’t my old classmate, Mark Masters, Mark’s greeter smiles from a whiskery face. “You probably don’t remember me – Blake Harlow.”

Mark remembers several unpleasant encounters with him usually racial slurs and insults. He remembers also that Blake was never alone when he spoke to Mark and never face to face.

“How could I forget?”

Blake snaps and gunman pushes a chair under Mark and unarmed shoves Mark into it. Then, unarmed grabs Mark’s arm. Mark jerks it back. Gunman pumps a bullet into the chamber of the revolver and points the revolver at Mark’s chest.

Mark reluctantly allows unarmed to tie his hands behind the back of the chair and his feet to his hands like hog-tying a calf at a rodeo.

“Now that I have such a captive audience,” Blake waves his two accomplices to his side, “let’s talk business.”

“What business would we have with you, Blake?” Mark speaks up.

“I don’t do business with mulattoes. I was talking to your tramp girlfriend.”

Mark protests by thrusting his whole body up causing the chair to hop and slide nearly tipping him over. A firm hand slaps down on Mark’s shoulder and the cold, hard barrel of a revolver presses into his head.

“What did you do with Celia?” Sunni’s voice seems to possess an air of helplessness and pain.

“See, little girlfriend has her priorities straight,” Blake addresses Mark while focusing on Sunni.

Blake moves behind Sunni and begins to stroke her long blonde hair, “Celia is safe for now. She’ll come to you, unharmed and full of life when we have the stuff you took from the safe.”

“I don’t know what you think was in that safe, but there was nothing of valuable in it.”

Mark watches Blake’s reaction. Blake remains calm and gently stroking Sunni’s hair. Suddenly, he stops and latches on to a handful of her golden locks with both hands.

“Then why did you remove them from the safe and leave that condescending note?” Blake yanks violently on Sunni’s hair causing her to squeal.

Mark tries to react but the pull of the binding and the firm hand pressing against his shoulder retard his action.

Mark detects tears and pain when Sunni responds, “I was doing what my father wished.”

Blake releases Sunni’s hair by thrusting her head forward so hard it rocks the chair. Then, he moves around to face Sunni, pulls a cellphone from his pants pocket and pokes it under Sunni’s nose.

“One phone call instructs my partners to either show love to Celia or cause her more pain than she’s ever known. It depends on you.”

Mark watches Blake and then Sunni. Blake dials a number. Sunni stares through strands of her hair over her eyes down at her feet. Mark can tell Sunni cries but cannot tell if it’s from pain, fright or rage.

“How do I know you have Celia or if she is safe or even if she is still alive,” to Mark this question comes from Sunni filled with rage.

“Sunni wants to talk to her sister,” Blake smiles, then holds the phone up to Sunni’s ear.

“Celia, are you alright? Good. I’m okay for now. We can’t trust them, but we have run out of options,” Sunni talks quickly and frantically.

Blake snaps the phone back and up to his ear, “I’ll give you her answer in a minute.”

“How’s Celia sound?” Mark leans toward Sunni as far as his captor allows.

“Strong. Stubborn. She says not to give them anything. She thinks they have to dispose of us anyway.”

She’s probably right. Once these pathetics get what they want we’re a hindrance.”

“Look, Mr. Harlow, I have no idea what you’d want with the stuff I found in the safe.”

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little privileged self over that. Just tell me where it is and I’ll send Buck there to fetch it,” Blake points to the shorter unarmed man.

“Then, what happens to us when you get it?” Mark asks, not expecting the truth, but to see if Blake might provide some tip off to the truth.

“We won’t say anything to anyone about this,” Sunni promises.

“We know you won’t. For some reason, you didn’t tell anyone about the other night after the party,” Blake exposes.

“So, you are the same persons as the other night only without the hoods,” Mark suspected and hoped they’d confess.

“I’m sure you had your reasons but it wouldn’t have mattered if you did. Just tell me where the stuff is,” Blake ignores Mark.

Sunni looks over at Mark and Mark nods reluctantly, “We hid the stuff at Mark’s house.”

“I’ll need to go with you because it’s easier to show you than to tell you where I have it hidden,” Mark wastes no time suggesting.

Blake sighs. He rubs his chin.

“Why don’t both of you go with the good professor. I’ll stay here with Ms. De La Croix in case Marky gets any heroic or any other stupid ideas.”

Buck unties Mark. Once his hands are free, Mark rubs his wrists and stretches his arms out in front of him. Armed man pokes Mark’s ribs with his weapon. Mark raises his hands up chest high. Soon after, his feet are free.

Blake addresses the armed man, “If he makes any funny moves, Bud, let me know ASAP. We’ll punish sweetheart for it.”

“I promise to be good,” Mark says over his shoulder as Bud shoves him towards the doorway of the library.

“You’d better or Ms. Sunni’s pretty face will never be the same. Don’t bring him back with you when you return with the stuff.”

“I hear you, Blake,” Bud responds without looking back.

“Do you? Do you know exactly what I mean?”

“I do. Believe me, I’ve been looking forward to it with pure ecstasy.”

“I thought so. You can let Buck help you if you want.”

Categories: Adventure Mystery Writing example

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Douglas Knight

I write about what I'm thinking or what I've imagined in an effort to regain that childhood imagination and marry with my many years of real experiences. I'm getting better at it the more I write.I am a published author of two romantic intrigue novels.My books can be found at or if you want a personalized copy, by emailing me at

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