Alright, this is just a little short story I've decided to write, while sitting in my hotel room, bored. Please keep in mind that there WILL be spelling and punctuation issues, as I am typing off of my iTouch. I'll clean it up whEn I get home. No editing allowed, Bree.
The story is inspired by a place I may have vacationed in before.

Anyways, hope you enjoy it.

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I strolled down the street, gazing up at the amazing architecture of the Crystal Veer towers. How could womething that lopsided not fal down onto the string of taxis below?
The crowds pushed against me as I mounted an escalator which would take me up onto a walkway between the Mandarin Oriental, Aria, Crystal Veer and the Cosmopolitan. A guitarist was singing "Sweet Home Alabama" in a throaty but rather pleasant voice. Ahh... Vegas...
My boyfriend, Myles, as walking next to me, taking pictures of Paris, Planet Hollywood, and pretty much every other interesting looking hotel on The Strip.
"Myles, come on. I want to go look in that Prada outlet," I whined, as he took a shot of Aria.
"Honestly, no offense or anything, but how are you going to afford anything Prada?" he questioned, now snapping photos of cabs on the street below.
"I can't, but you know me. Curious almost to the point of stupidity."
"Oh fine. Let's go." He turned off his camera and pulled me off down the other side of the walkway, onto the street. "Just one sec," he stopped, and pulled a new memory card out of his bag to put in his camera, "I only have two pictures left." He let go of my hand, so I took the opportunity to look around. I took a couple steps out away from the ledge Myles was leaning on while changing the card.
That was when a grubby hand clapped over my mouth, and a voice smelling of musty alcohol whispered in my ear, "Try to run, and you're dead. Make a sound, you're dead."
I was frozen in terror. I was in the middle of a thick crowd, but no one seemed to notice my situation. I was only about four yards from Myles, but I couldn't say a word.
"Now, I will remove my hand from your mouth, but I have a gun that I will shoot you with if you try anything." The man drew his hand away. "Now walk to the opposite side of the street, and cross over. We will atop in front of the Hard Rock Cafe."
I felt him prod me in the small of my back with something metal. It didn't take much to guess what the bit of metal was.
"Jana?" called Myles, who was now about ten yards from me and my abductor. I was now panicking, almost to the point of hyperventilating. My heart felt like it was in my throat.
"Jana? Where are you?" called Myles louder. I didn't dare answer him though. My captor didn't need to know who Myles was too.
We had reached the crosswalk, the gun still pressed firmly into my back. Unfortunately, in a crowd like this, no one would notice.
"Jana?" Myles' voice seemed briefly closer, but then we began to cross, and his voice faded into the babble of voices, music, and honking horns.
Someone bumped into my on the other side, spilling their Corona all over me.
"I'm so sorry!" the tipsy guy said to me apologetically. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not with the man smelling of old alcohol behind me holding a gun to my spine. Now sticky as well as utterly lost and panicked, my abductor jabbed me with a gun, and said, "We are going to get into a cab. Do not move while I flag one down. Do not speak at all."
This is when I got a full view of my abductor, as he steppe forward to hail a cab. He was wearing a dark, expensive suit, and shiny black shoes. He had multiple rungs onhis fingers, and was wearing a black hat, his hair was a dirty blonde colour, slightly longer than average.
Suddenly, Myles' voice rang out again. "Jana!"
I looked around, and he was running full tilt towards me, his brown hair whipped all around his sweaty face. My abductor was just stopping the cab, so he didn't notice my sudden hope.
"Jana!" Myles was 20 yards away. So close. But not close enough. My captor had turned, and pulled me into the cab. He shut the door.
"To the Venetian, please," he told the driver.
Myles had fought his way to the cab, and I watched as he skidded to a stop on the curb right as we pulled away. The desperation in his eyes was horrifying. I was done. Myles was my last hope, and my last hope was currently standing on the curb behind us, as the cab driver squeezed into traffic.

****

I was dazed the entire ride to the Venetian. I knew I was done. I didn't have a hope. This man was going to do who knows what to me, and I didnt have a hope of stopping him. Best case scenario: I'd be dead within the next three hours. Worst case scenario: I don't even want to go there. The possibilities were causing tears to form in my eyes.
I felt the cab slide up to a stop, about 20 minutes later.
"Thank you," said my captor to the driver, handing him two twenties.
He prodded me, and I got out. "Now," he said quietly as we stood at the doors, "pretend like we are a couple, but remember, you will get shot if you make the wrong move."
Suddenly gathering courage from somewhere, I snarled, "You make me sick."
"Now now, none of that," the man said, smiling. He prodded me forward again.
I reluctantly started forward, my heart pounding in my chest, sweat dripping down my face. The sliding doors opened into the lobby- casino of the hotel. The man marched me past the check in and to an elevator. He pushed the button for the ninth floor.
"You make me totally sick, you pig," I snarled again at him. He merely smiled again, knowing I wouldn't be able to do anything to him, not with the thought of being shot hanging over my head. I started to swear, tears brining to pour down my face. I hated this man. I hated this whole situation. Maybe I should just ask him to shoot me now.
We had reached the ninth floor of he Venetian. It was a beautiful hotel, but I really had no time to take any of it in. I was trying to plot my escape, but unfortunately there didn't seem to be any way out. Oh my god. I was screwed. Life could never be the same for me, even if I did survive what was coming next.
We reached his room, number 9130. He took out a key card, inserting it into the lock just as a figure came sprinting down the hall, hitting my captor with a grunt. My abductor went flying, his gun falling from under his coat. Myles surged forward scooping up the gun and taking he bullets out. He threw it twenty feet behind him, as he picked up my q doctor and bodily threw him against the wall. The blonde man was out cold.
Myles turned to me. Tears had stained his face, and he was breathing hard.
"Oh Jana. Thank god." he pulled me into his arms, where I broke down, sobbing on his shoulder. "Thank god," he repeated. We stayed lie that for at least five minutes, until I finally got enough of a grip to speak.
"How dis you find me?" I choked out.
"I got in a cab right behind you, and told the driver not to lose you at any cost. I followed you and that-" Myles swore "- into the hotel. I watched what floor the elevator stopped on, and took the other elevator up..." he trailed off.
"Myles, if it hadn't have been for you-" I broke off, crying again.
"Shhhh," he said, "it's done. You're safe. Let's call the cops and get this guy hauled off to jail. Then we can go home."
"That would be good." I half smiled at him, then straightened up.
"You OK?" he asked me.
"Yes. For now. I'll break down again later, though. I'll be fine though" I added, seeing the worry in his eyes.
I looked over at my abductor. A trickle of blood dripped out of his mouth, as he lay slumped against the wall. I pulled out my cellphone, and dialed 911.
"Hello. Can I get police please?"

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Ok, so I hope that turned out ok. If there are any issues with it, other than typos and a not-so-great plot (like content maybe? I think I kept it fairly good for any age group) let me know.

Cheers