‘What’s got into you? There’s one for you too. And Mason.’
‘Let’s hope he comes back to drink it.’
‘Don’t be—’
He was interrupted by a furious pounding on the back door, accompanied by the high-pitch wail of a near hysterical woman.
Sonny pushed off the counter.
‘It’s Rachel.’
‘It’s a trap more like.’
‘You think he’s gonna charge in here two against one, a nice big target in the doorway?’
‘He might use her as a shield.’
‘What? Are you stupid? He thinks he’s a fucking Knight in Shining Armor. He’s not going to use a woman to protect himself whoever’s side she’s on. I’m letting her in.’
‘Wait.’
Sonny paused.
‘Just because he’s some hero, I’m not. Hey you, mommy.’
Linda looked up at him.
‘Take over from her unless you want hubby to bleed out.’
She shuffled across the floor, the comforter trailing behind her. The two women switched hands on the napkins pressed into Scott’s shoulder. Outside, the hammering got louder, the shrieking more insistent.
‘Sonny, get hold of her.’ He pushed Gina with his foot. ‘Use her as a shield. If her boyfriend’s outside, he won’t shoot. I’ll get behind the door and open it.’
‘Why don’t I open the door and you use her as a shield?’
‘Because you’re the one wants to let her in. It’s your choice.’
Sonny nodded. He looked at Gina. A grin suddenly split his face.
‘Come here.’
Gina got to her feet. Sonny grabbed her by the arm and twisted her. He looped his arm around her neck and pulled her tightly into his body, their cheeks almost touching, his groin thrust into her ass.
‘Good idea, Todd,’ he laughed.
‘Just concentrate on the job.’
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. No reason why you can’t mix work with pleasure.’ He rubbed his face into Gina’s. ‘Isn’t that right, sweetheart?’
Gina tried to shut down her mind, control the wave of revulsion rising up inside her, ignore the hardness pushing into her ass.
‘Okay, ready?’ Todd said.
‘You bet.’
Todd wrenched the door open. There was a gust of freezing air and Rachel tumbled in. Todd slammed the door shut. Nothing happened, no bullets thudding into the heavy oak door, nothing.
‘See, I told you,’ Sonny yelled.
Gina squirmed in his grip.
‘You can let me go now.’
‘I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready—’
She stamped hard on his foot, then raked the edge of her heavy walking boot down his shin.
He howled in pain and kicked her legs out from under her, grabbing her hair as she fell, his fist drawing back to punch her in the face.
‘Sonny,’ Todd shouted, the tone of voice leaving no room for argument.
He held his fist poised in mid-air, his whole body shaking with pent-up fury, then lowered his arm. He tightened his grip in her hair until her eyes watered and then threw her head away.
‘Later.’
‘He was waiting for us,’ Rachel wailed.
‘You said he was hurt bad,’ Todd said.
‘I thought he was.’
‘What happened?’
‘He was hiding, waiting for us. He jumped us and then they were rolling and fighting on the ground. I tried to help and he hit me but I got his gun.’ She looked at the gun in her hand. ‘Here you take it.’ She thrust it at him.
‘Why didn’t you shoot him with it?’
She stared at him open-mouthed as if he was talking a different language.
‘Because I’m not a murderer. Because I’ve never shot a gun in my life. I don’t know how. I’d have shot myself or Mason while they were rolling around on the ground. I saw it lying there. So I picked it up and ran.’
She thrust it towards him.
‘Take it.’
He took it off her and stuck it in his waistband.
‘What about the other one?’
‘Other one what?’
‘The other gun—’
‘How the hell do I know how many guns there are. I saw that one and I grabbed it and ran. I don’t know anything else about—’
He patted the air with his hand.
‘Okay, okay, don’t worry about it.’
She calmed down for a second and touched her lip. ‘Ow.’ She looked at her finger, smeared with blood. ‘The bastard hit me.’ She glared at Gina. ‘Your fucking boyfriend hit me.’
Gina didn’t believe her for a second. Evan wasn’t the sort to hit a woman. If he had she wouldn’t be standing here now. Maybe she got caught by a flying elbow as they all thrashed around, arms and legs flailing wildly.
Rachel was staring at her, working herself up into a rage. She suddenly lunged at Gina, pushing her to the floor. Gina landed on her back and Rachel jumped on her, sat astride her and slapped her face.
Something wasn’t right. The force of the slap didn’t match the venom behind the words.
‘See how you like it, you prissy cow. Look at my face. He fucking punched me—’
‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Todd said, although his tone of voice told a different story.
‘Leave ‘em be,’ Sonny said. ‘There’s something about two women fighting . . . ’ He swallowed and adjusted himself.
Todd wasn’t hard to convince. He stepped away.
Rachel grabbed Gina by the hair and pulled her arm back, her small fist clenched.
Gina looked up into her eyes. Rachel winked. It was fast, but it was there.
‘He’s a fucking ape,’ Rachel screamed. ‘He should be swinging from the tree tops.’
The words hit Gina harder than the glancing punch Rachel threw at her head. Their room was the Treetop Suite.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
‘A real big man, he is. Likes to knock women around. Sonny’s more of a man than he is.’
Another wink.
‘You got that right,’ Sonny said, a lecherous grin splitting his face.
Gina laughed.
‘What? That needledick?’
Sonny stopped grinning, took a half step forward.
‘He’s still jerking off over his momma’s lingerie catalogue.’
‘You shut your mouth—’
‘And the only reason he doesn’t hit women is because he’s scared they’d kick his skinny ass.’
Sonny jumped forward and pushed Rachel off Gina. He leaned down and grabbed hold of Gina’s hair, working his fingers tightly in, and pulled her to her feet.
She ignored the pain.
‘That’s right, show us all what a big man you are.’
And even though it made her stomach turn, she took hold of the front of his pants and squeezed him gently.
The surprise on his face was a picture.
‘Oops, only need two fingers to get hold of that little pecker. Anybody got some tweezers?’
Rachel laughed, really put her heart and soul into it, the sound bouncing off the kitchen walls, high and irritating enough to set your teeth on edge.
Todd joined in, a deep chuckle all the way from his belly.
‘Can’t nobody argue with that, sweetheart.’
‘Shut the fuck up, Todd.’
‘Needledick?’ Rachel wiped at the tears running down her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘I love it.’
One of the other men, Luca or the chef, snorted loudly like he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Sonny’s head whipped around.
‘Shut the fuck up all of you.’
He stuffed his gun into the back of his waistband, thrust his hand in his pocket and came out with a switchblade. The blade snicked open, catching the light from the fluorescents overhead. He bent Gina’s head back further, put the tip of the blade under her chin. He backed towards the double doors.
‘Wh
ere do you think you’re going?’ Todd said.
‘Gonna teach this bitch a lesson. We’ll see how much she’s laughing by the time I bring her back.’
‘Oh dear, I think I just peed my panties,’ Gina mocked through clenched teeth.
‘You just wait.’
‘Let her go, Sonny.’
‘Fuck off, Todd. I mean it.’
‘That’s right, Todd,’ Gina said, ‘fuck off. I haven’t had a good belly laugh for ages. Besides, it’ll only take twenty seconds.’
Todd looked like he was going to argue some more, but then shook his head. He’d seen Sonny like this before and there was no arguing with him. He’d have to shoot him to stop him now. It was a tempting thought, very tempting, but the crazy-ass kid was his cousin after all.
He gave a dismissive flick of his hand and Sonny dragged Gina backwards through the double doors into the dining room.
Todd would’ve sworn she was smiling. He felt sorry for her. Almost.
Chapter 18
‘DON’T GET TOO FAR away from Todd,’ Gina sneered. ‘Better stop here so he can hear you when you call for help.’
Sonny sniggered, kept on dragging her backwards through the dining room.
‘You’re the one who’ll be begging for help when I’ve finished with you.’
‘In your dreams, little man.’
She twisted half-heartedly in his grip making him clamp his arm around her neck tighter. She stuck a leg out as they went around a table, hooked her foot backwards and snagged it on one of the legs. It caught and the heavy table jerked, catching in the thick rug, stretching her out flat. They stayed like that a moment and then he kicked her leg away.
‘Why don’t you just get it over with here?’ Gina said. ‘Or are you looking for some filthy alley? So you can screw me up against a wall like all the whores you have to pay for.’
‘Sticks and stones. Say anything you want, it won’t do you any good.’
‘And you can do anything you want, but you’ll never be a real man like—’
‘Like who? Like your boyfriend, the big bad hero? We’ll see. What room are you in?’
‘Can’t remember.’
He jerked his forearm backwards into her throat. She gagged and coughed, tried to swallow.
‘Try harder, bitch.’
His arm was slowly but steadily choking her. She was getting lightheaded. Panic seized her. Had she pushed him too far? Had she really seen the store clerk wink?
‘I can’t breathe.’
He relaxed the stranglehold a fraction and she drew air deep into her lungs. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs
He laughed, the sort of laugh you’d laugh at a dirty joke.
‘You think you can’t breathe now, you just wait and see. I’ve got something that’ll stop you breathing. Now, what room?’
‘What’s it matter, for Christ’s sake?’
‘Don’t matter one jot to me, but you? You can bite the pillow and think of your boyfriend, smell him on the sheets as you cry out in pain. Then you’ll think of me every time you lie down next to him. Except there won’t be a next time.’
She felt his growing excitement as he pushed himself into her. It made her skin crawl, made it feel like it was two sizes too small. Her stomach heaved, the tightness of his arm around her throat the only thing keeping it down.
‘No.’
He pushed the tip of the knife harder into her chin, broke the skin, the pain sharp and hot.
‘Which room? You make me look in all the closets for his clothes, you’ll be sorry.’
A trickle of blood ran down her neck and soaked into her sweater.
‘Upstairs, right at the top.’
He dropped his arm from her throat and grabbed her hand, twisted it roughly up her back, then spun them both around and pushed her up the stairs. He took the knife away from her chin and jabbed her in the ass.
‘Ow!’
She jerked forward in surprise, wrenching her arm in his grip, all but dislocating her shoulder.
He laughed, the sound obscene right in her ear. She hated herself for gasping, giving him so much fun, but it was the surprise as much as the pain.
‘You think that hurt, just you wait and see. Your boyfriend won’t want you after I’m finished. Nobody will.’
They turned up the last flight of stairs, the corridor to her room at the top. The door came into sight, the name Treetop Suite hand-painted in gold leaf.
Please God, let me be right.
He pushed her arm higher up her back, squashed her body and face into the wall next to the door and tried the handle with his knife hand. She’d left it unlocked and the door swung open as he gave it a hard push.
Ahead of them the French doors stood slightly open, exactly as she’d left them. To the left, the fire blazed in the fireplace, warm and welcoming, flickering in the draft. On the other wall the door to the bathroom was open, the bathroom beyond empty.
He pushed her into the room, stepped inside and swung the door shut behind him.
There was nobody there. Evan wasn’t hiding behind the door, he didn’t step out and bring his massive fist crashing down onto Sonny’s head, crushing him into the floor as she’d imagined every step of the way. All she saw was her terrified reflection in the full-length mirror by the door as he advanced towards her.
How could she have been so wrong?
He saw the fear in her eyes, understood something had changed. All her bravado was gone. She was on her own.
‘What’s happened to your smart mouth?’
He took another step towards her.
Her gaze dropped from his leering grin to the bulge in his pants. He caught her looking and grinned some more. He hitched himself up, his eyes full of eager anticipation.
‘You’ll do a lot more than look at it.’
She was going to be sick. She’d goaded him and insulted him and now she would pay the price.
She couldn’t let it just happen.
Her eyes darted around the room. She’d never make it to the bathroom. Besides, there was only a flimsy lock, strong enough to withstand a polite testing to see if the room was occupied, nothing more.
At the side of the fireplace the poker was where she’d left it, propped against the stone surround. She didn’t stop to think. She leapt across the room and grabbed it, whirled around and raised it above her head.
Too slow, far too slow.
He dropped the knife. His arm shot out, his fingers clamping around the poker shaft. His other hand gripped her throat, lifting and pushing her into the wall. Turning sideways, he pushed his hip into her belly. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
‘Drop it.’
He tightened his grip on her throat, jerked the poker.
‘Drop it or I’ll stick it somewhere you won’t like.’
She let go.
A smug grin split his face, but only for a second. She locked her middle finger rigid and poked him in the eye. He howled and released his grip on her throat, dropping the poker. She put both hands on his chest and pushed, sending him staggering backwards, one hand clamped over his eye, the other arm flailing wildly. His heel caught on the rug, the backs of his legs hit the bed and he toppled backwards onto it, thrashing wildly in the tangled covers.
She seized the poker and lunged towards the bed. Nothing ever felt so good, so right, in her hands. She hefted it, cold, hard steel, pitted with age, heavy and unwieldy, crying out for her to crush the pathetic figure cowering below her.
‘You sorry, sick piece of shit,’ she spat as she reared up, embraced the strange, other-worldly energy that rose up from the very bed itself and poured into her, infusing every muscle, every sinew with a wild, untamed fury, her whole body resonating with a long-dead woman’s forlorn screams. Her own voice melded with that unholy sound, a primeval roar, straight from the gut, all the pent-up anger and fear and revulsion exploding out of her as she brought the poker down with all the power of a medieval broadsword cleaving
a battle shield. There was a loud crack as the poker slammed uselessly into the two-hundred-year-old solid oak top rail of the four-poster bed. It bounced off, flying out of her hands, the shock jangling her nerves all the way up her arms and into her shoulders.
She never got a second chance. He lashed out with a vicious kick and caught her right in the belly. She screamed again, louder, higher, filled with pain. Her breath went out of her like it wasn’t ever coming back. She doubled over, fell on her side, the pain radiating out into every part of her body.
He rolled off the bed and picked up the poker. He prodded her with it a couple times, like he was testing to see if she was still alive—still able to feel pain—then went to the fire and buried it deep in the burning logs.
‘You are gonna be so sorry,’ he said and kicked her in the ass.
Chapter 19
EVAN FROZE AS A scream split the air. It came from their room, right above him. More like a war cry than a scream. Like something from another place, beyond man’s comprehension.
She’d understood, lured the crazy one up to their room.
Another scream, higher and desperate. He was too late.
He slipped again. Progress was slower than he’d anticipated—or she’d been quicker to get under the crazy kid’s skin. He’d shimmied up a drain pipe, no problem. Then it got harder. Despite the shallow pitch of the first and second story roofs, he slipped on the snow so many times he lost count. But he’d made it in the end, hauling himself up the covered balcony on each floor and onto the roof above and then slip-sliding, two steps forward, one step back, on his way to the balcony above.
Now he was directly below their room.
His hands were numb from the cold, his fingers blue. Every limb ached, his clothes soaked with wet snow. That was all forgotten when he heard the scream. He took hold of the rustic wood railing around their balcony and heaved himself up until he could see through the French doors into the room.
What he saw made his blood boil.
Gina lay on the floor in a fetal position, moaning softly.
A man—the one called Sonny, more like an overgrown boy—walked to the fire with a poker in his hand. He thrust it deep into the flames, twisting it, sending a burst of sparks crackling up the chimney. The light from the fire lit up his face, made his greasy skin shine. He turned back to Gina.
The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets) Page 96