The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets)

by James, Harper

The girl shrieked and tried to stand up, turn around and pull her panties up all at the same time. It didn’t work, not in those heels. She hung in mid-air for a split second, lost her balance and landed on her butt right in the puddle of pee that had settled behind her.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  He watched her push herself up off the ground. She slapped at her butt with her hands, brushing pieces of grit off where they’d stuck to her wet butt cheeks. Her panties were still half way down her thighs.

  He studied her face—it was definitely the same girl, but she had a very different expression on her face now. No smug, plastic smile underneath the hard, greedy eyes like in the photo.

  Oh no. Just fear.

  ‘Get away from me, you pervert.’ Her voice was hoarse, shrill with panic. She backed further into the alcove.

  He stepped closer but didn’t say anything, his silence unnerving her, her eyes wide open, bulging. He felt a thrill seeing the fear in her eyes, the tremor on her bottom lip, a vein throbbing in her throat.

  ‘Enjoy watching girls pee, do you, you pervert?’

  She tried to put some confidence back into her voice. It didn’t work. He watched her as she grew smaller in front of him, willing what he hoped was a pitiless stare into his eyes.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The voice was small and pathetic, not far from breaking. She didn’t recognize him. Thought he was a random pervert. Or worse.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  He jabbed her hard between the breasts with his finger, making her cry out and recoil away from him.

  She kept moving her mouth but the fear had taken her voice. Her eyes flicked from his face down to his hands and back again like she thought he was going to pull a knife or a rope out of his pocket.

  There’s an idea.

  Casually he put his right hand into his pants pocket and gripped his car keys like he was gripping the handle of a knife. He smiled coldly at her, but it was wasted, her eyes were locked on his hand, her whole body shaking. He tensed as if to make his move and she tensed in return, then he slowly pulled his hand half way out of his pocket.

  She let out a strangled gasp and tried to push past him. He slammed her back against the wall, felt all the breath go out of her, pinning her against the rough brickwork as her body sagged, her breath coming in heaving sobs.

  Gripping her chin with his left hand, he squeezed and lifted her head, exposing her throat, stretching her neck. Her eyes were wild with panic, trying to see what he had in his hidden hand. He wiped the smile off his face and pulled his empty right hand out of his pocket, waved it in front of her, then patted her on the cheek.

  He let go of her and stepped backwards. Her chin dropped to her chest and she slid down the wall and settled in the gravel and cigarette butts and Lord only knows what else that littered the floor of the alcove, her body collapsing in on itself.

  ‘What’s the problem? I said I want to talk, that’s all.’

  ‘You bastard,’ she hissed, sucking in great wet chunks of air and starting to cry.

  Her wet, bloodshot eyes met his, the hurt and loathing in them causing him to flinch, but then they widened as something registered in them above and behind him, a moment before a man’s gravelly voice cut in.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on out here?’

  Chapter 19

  EVAN SAT IN HIS car and watched the club from across the street. It was busy now. He waited until he saw a big, noisy group of guys making their way down the sidewalk, then crossed the street, timing it so that he got there just in front of them. The bouncers had seen the guys coming and were watching carefully for any signs of trouble. Some of them were drunk already, their voices loud, lots of raucous laughter and back slapping. Evan was waved through without a second look.

  He sat on a stool at the bar, ordered a beer and looked around the room. The place was chic and modern, almost like a regular night club, clearly the go-to strip club for well-heeled tourist businessmen like Jesse—the kind of place where you can barely walk in without reaching triple-digit spending.

  He batted away a couple of girls before they got the message and left him alone. Tightwad pervert, one of them said as she sashayed away, swinging her cellulite ass like she thought it would make him change his mind. He didn’t have to wait long before he spotted the girl Angel had pointed out. She looked nervous and ill at ease, glancing around like she was looking for somebody in particular, but not in the same predatory, money-sniffing way the other girls did.

  He called the bartender over and pointed her out, told him he’d like to buy her a drink. A quickly palmed ten-dollar bill ensured she was sitting on the bar stool next to him a couple of minutes later, trying her best to smile sweetly at him. And failing miserably. He bought her a glass of something sparkling and had another beer himself. Already his wallet was feeling a little sorry for itself.

  ‘You don’t seem like the rest of the girls.’ The sparkle in her eyes told him he couldn’t have picked a better compliment. ‘Or look like them. Isn’t there a house rule about peroxide? And ...’

  She raised her eyebrows, a hint of a genuine smile on her lips. ‘Enhancements?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  She hung her head and her hair fell round her face. ‘I know. I’m always in trouble with the management.’

  He groaned to himself at the irony of it. She had no idea the amount of trouble she’d be in if they knew what he was doing here. He had to tread very carefully.

  ‘Not even a tramp stamp?’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘Sorry. Do you want me to call one of the other girls over? I think it’s two for the price of one tonight.’

  He pretended to give it some thought and used it as an excuse to take a better look at her.

  ‘That’s okay. And don’t you mean one for the price of two?’

  She giggled and leaned in towards him, resting her hand on his thigh for a brief moment. A tingle started at her hand, ran up his leg and spine and into the hair at the back of his neck. He shivered and took a deep breath. She smelled as good as she looked.

  ‘You don’t seem like the rest of the perv ... customers in here, either,’ she said and took her hand away.

  It took all his willpower to stop himself taking hold of it and putting it back. ‘What? Almost like a normal guy, you mean?’

  ‘Hey, don’t get carried away now.’

  She gulped the last of her drink down nervously, her gaze constantly flicking to something over his shoulder. He twisted around but couldn’t see what she was looking at.

  ‘Don’t—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Too late.’

  She shook her head, gave him a small, resigned smile.

  ‘Do you want another drink?’

  She looked at the empty glass in her hand, surprised that she’d finished it. ‘Sorry. You must think I’m deliberately drinking quickly so you spend all your money.’

  ‘No, but that’s why I didn’t take you up on the offer to introduce me to some of the other girls. They all look very thirsty.’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe how quickly they can drink a wallet dry.’

  ‘So, do you?’

  ‘Yes please. I don’t normally drink much, but tonight—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, nobody’s counting.’

  He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and peered into it. She leaned over, her hand on his leg again, and had a look too. There wasn’t much to see.

  ‘Don’t let any of the other girls see that,’ she whispered. ‘That’s a bigger offence than getting a boner in the front row.’

  The sudden vulgarity took him by surprise. It made him wonder how big an offence getting a boner at the bar was too.

  ‘I could just about squeeze a couple more drinks out of it, but I’d prefer it if we met up later.’

  She stiffened as if he’d goosed her. Her hand came off his knee.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t do that,’ she said col
dly, all the fun and joking gone from her voice in an instant.

  She slid half-way off the bar stool. He put a hand gently on her arm. She looked down at it and he wondered if she felt the same kind of shiver run through her body as he had.

  ‘I’m working with Angel.’

  It wasn’t quite true, but what the hell?

  He sure as hell didn’t get the response he was expecting. She looked at him blankly for a second before making the connection. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then something else kicked in behind it, something that sucked all the life out of them.

  ‘I’ve got to go now.’ A hint of panic had crept into her voice. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  She pulled her arm free, slid off the stool and walked away. It was as if she’d slapped him. What the hell was going on? That was meant to calm her down, not spook her. He looked up and caught the bartender watching him intently. Probably thought he’d made some inappropriate request. Evan met his gaze and the bartender looked away again. Nobody else in the room was paying any attention, apart from an older, hard-faced woman standing near the emergency exit. From the way she was dressed she was obviously one of the strippers, but a lot older than most of them. She looked away quickly when Evan caught her eye.

  There was nothing else he could do in here now. He couldn’t chase after Gina and the bartender was most likely keeping an eye on him, ready to call the bouncers over at the first sign of trouble. He sure as hell didn’t want to stay drinking their over-priced drinks or sample any of the other services on offer, so he made his way back outside to wait in his car.

  Chapter 20

  JESSE SPUN AROUND, HIS jaw dropping in horror. A black guy built like a brick outhouse with a shiny shaved head on top towered over him. Jesse’s mouth opened and shut without making a sound, but the guy wasn’t looking for an answer, he just liked getting paid to hit people. He buried a fist the size of a basketball in Jesse’s stomach. Jesse doubled over as the breath exploded out of every cavity in his body. The guy caught him by the hair as his knees buckled and jerked him upright again, holding him up like a puppet with its strings cut.

  ‘Again,’ the girl hissed from the floor.

  The bouncer drove his fist into Jesse’s stomach a second time. His feet lifted clear off the ground, a clump of his hair came out in the bouncer’s hand and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  His mouth worked uselessly, trying to get the air back into his lungs, but it was like the guy was sitting on him, not just looking down at him with the satisfaction of a job well done on his face. The pain radiating out from his stomach was beyond anything he’d ever known, like a blade had been left too long on hot coals until the steel was glowing red and then thrust deep into his abdomen.

  ‘What’s going on, babe?’ The bouncer stuck his massive hand out and helped the girl up.

  ‘That pervert was watching me take a piss.’ She suddenly remembered her panties and pulled them up, smiling coyly at the bouncer.

  He nodded. ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Then he was going to cut me.’

  She staggered over to where Jesse writhed soundlessly on the ground and aimed a kick at him. It caught him on the shoulder but her legs were weak and wobbly and he barely felt it. She tried to stamp on his neck and nearly lost her balance, so she bent over and spat full in his face. It couldn’t have been worse if she’d used her tongue to clean out the ashtrays.

  ‘Easy, babe.’ The bouncer grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

  ‘Easy my ass. Let me go, Emerson. Bastard was going to cut me.’

  She ducked and tried to get around him to have another go at kicking Jesse, but he wasn’t having any of it. He pointed a finger at her and she backed off, mouthing obscenities under her breath. He squatted down and flipped Jesse onto his back like he weighed nothing, then held him down with a hand the size of a dinner plate on his chest. Jesse stared up at him, eyes out of focus, the shiny dome of the guy’s head silhouetted against the night sky.

  ‘In his pants pocket.’

  Emerson gave her an ugly look and stuffed his hand into Jesse’s pocket, came out with his wallet and car keys. He patted the other pocket down and pulled out his cell phone. ‘There’s no knife.’

  He stood up again, pushed Jesse with his foot. ‘Unless he shoved it up his own ass.’

  The stripper did something with her mouth that you couldn’t call a smile. ‘That’s where it’s going when I find it. He was going to cut my throat.’

  Emerson wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even to him it sounded like the record was stuck. He couldn’t remember her name, but she was always whining and complaining about something.

  ‘Well, I’m telling you it ain’t here now. Maybe you imagined it.’

  She scowled at him. ‘Here, gimme that.’

  She snatched Jesse’s wallet out of his hand. Jesse moaned on the ground. His breath came in short painful gasps as his diaphragm started up again, his chest wheezing noisily as he sucked the air in. Big mistake. Better to stop breathing altogether than bring himself to Emerson’s attention again.

  ‘I’m gonna put this guy where he belongs.’

  He squatted down, got his arms under Jesse and threw him over his shoulder like a wet dishrag. Then he stood up and walked towards the dumpsters with Jesse flopping around on his shoulder like a rag doll.

  The stripper ignored them. She was far too preoccupied with the contents of Jesse’s wallet and for once it wasn’t the cash that interested her.

  Emerson stopped at the nearest dumpster, the one Jesse had been hiding behind, the one that smelled the worst. He flipped the lid open. The smell that rose up and engulfed the two of them defied description. Jesse would have retched if he had breath to spare.

  ‘Jeez.’

  Emerson took a half step back and heaved Jesse off his shoulder, right into the middle of the dumpster. He landed shoulder first on the rotting food leftovers with a squelch rather than a thump. The side of his face smacked into something wet and gooey and smelly. He tried not to think about what it might be. Panic rose up inside him as Emerson reached around and took hold of the lid ready to close it up again.

  ‘Wait.’

  It was the stripper’s strident voice calling. For a moment he couldn’t believe his luck. Or did she just want to throw something else in on top of him before the lid was shut?

  ‘Get him out again.’

  Emerson giggled, the strangest sound from such a big man. ‘Not me. I ain’t touching him again. No way.’ He held his hands up, his big face screwed into a look of disgust. ‘You gone soft or something? You forget he was gonna cut you?’

  She slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be stupid. Take a look at this.’

  Jesse’s heart sank. She’d found something in his wallet. Maybe she recognized his name, if not his face. He imagined them bending over whatever she’d found, like a couple of small boys who’d found a porno magazine and weren’t quite sure what they were looking at, but knew they were supposed to be excited.

  ‘What? It’s his driving license.’

  ‘Look at the name.’

  ‘Jesse Springer. So what?’

  The girl dropped her voice but Jesse still heard her. ‘I recognize the name. He’s one of the guys ...’

  Emerson didn’t say anything. Jesse imagined him nodding in agreement, his piggy little eyes opening wide, as things fell into place inside his shiny great skull.

  ‘Take it to Samantha. She’ll know what to do. I’ll wait here. If it’s not who you think, we’ll have some fun, rough him up a bit and let him go. But if you’re right, I say we stick the hosepipe in, lock the lid and wait until the banging stops.’

  Chapter 21

  GINA THREADED HER WAY through the crowd and headed for the stairs, ignoring the guys who tried to hit on her as she pushed past. She needed some fresh air—in fact, make that a fresh life. Talking to the guy at the bar had left her feeling like her legs were about to give way at every step. He’d
seemed nice to begin with, handsome and amusing—and she liked the name Evan—but then he’d ruined it when he mentioned Angel. She’d been nervous enough to begin with, trying to ignore Samantha staring malevolently at her from across the room, watching, waiting for her to do something wrong. She’d wanted to die when he turned to look. And then he’d said he was working with Angel. It was like someone had put her head in a vise and was slowly tightening it.

  What the hell was going on?

  She never took her breaks with the other girls, standing outside the back door with the smell of the dumpsters never far away and other smells she didn’t want to think about even nearer. Instead, she stood at the top of the fire escape at the end of the second-floor hallway.

  That’s where she went now. The air was fresher, the view was better and she didn’t have to listen to the other girls whining the whole time. She’d stood up there many a time and dreamed about leaping down the stairs two at a time, her high heels clutched in her hand, dashing barefoot across the parking lot, and then running down the street screaming, her hair blowing in the wind, until she couldn’t run or scream any more.

  It was a nice thought. And what she witnessed next made her want to do it right then, forget the stairs and just leap over the handrail.

  She’d come out, greedily gulping down the cool, fresh air, trying to stop her head from expanding and contracting due to the implications of what Evan had said, when she saw Emerson walk across the parking lot, a semi-conscious guy slung over his shoulder, groaning and flapping like a fish out of water.

  It was Evan.

  Samantha must have set the bouncers on him after watching them talking together. It didn’t make any sense—there was no way she could have heard what they were saying. But she’d seen him turn and look, assumed they were talking about her.

  She leaned over the railing, desperate to get a better look, her fingers gripping the cold metal as if the stairs had collapsed under her. The guy twisted on Emerson’s shoulder and tears welled up behind her eyelids, her grip on the railing relaxing—it wasn’t him after all. It was just her stupid imagination running wild. Even so, her jaw dropped as she watched Emerson casually heave the poor guy into a dumpster with no more thought than if he was taking out the trash.