90% of the things Javi does throughout his week is scheduled. Meetings? Scheduled. Hangouts? Scheduled. Dinner? Scheduled. Literally everything else? Scheduled. But getting a sack over his head and being forced into a black van? That was NOT.

Unlike most people who had been kidnapped, he wasn't thrashing or screaming or biting. He was nervous as hell---he could feel his heart in his throat---but at least it kept him from playing hero. He wasn't sure where he was, where he was going, or who he was with. The air smelt of cigarettes and sweat and leather and whoever was with him was as silent as a mouse. But he could feel someone beside him, maybe holding a gun to his head. He didn't know. He wished he knew.

Before he knew it, the van stopped suddenly and his arm was grabbed roughly. And then, he was shoved into a chair and the sack was ripped off his head. Wherever he was, it was some kind of building. And he didn't like it.