“Yes, sir, I will.” Maverick gripped the older guy’s hand, a big knot stuck in his throat. “The pleasure’s been all mine, Mr. Knudsen. I won’t forget you.”
“Aw, pshaw. I’d a liked ta told her myself, but I’m telling you now. Miss China was the best boss I ever got ta work for, even better ’n her daddy, ol’ Jefferson.”
“Yep,” X said softly. “She gived me a chance when no one else thought I was worth much or worth keepin’, not even my ol’ man. She reeled me in an’ never once thought a throwing me back.”
“And you marry that little gal, ya hear me?” Z released Maverick’s hand to wipe his eye. “Now git.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The stench of body odor woke him. Smelled like something had died right under his nose. He needed fresh air, but got rushed instead. The floorboards of the bunkhouse creaked beneath what sounded like a crowd of tramping boots. Fists came out of nowhere in the dark, hammered his cheek and jaw. Bound him tight before he could warn the others.
Z grunted from his bunk. X never made a sound.
“You got him?”
Reardon. The jerks holding Maverick had to be his biker club.
“Weren’t no problem at all,” one of them boasted. “Like wrestling bitches, jes’ not so much fun afterwards.”
Maverick couldn’t see a thing. Someone gagged him. Another blindfolded him. Rough hands jerked him off the bunk and pushed him face-first to the floor. They tied his hands behind his back with what hurt like baling twine, pulled him to his feet by his elbows and shoved him into a wooden chair.
“Good and tight, boys.”
Reardon’s boys made it tight all right. Twine circled Maverick’s legs, his upper torso, too. In no time at all he was immobilized and bound to the chair. Blood or sweat trickled down the side of his face. He’d been punched. His eyebrow stung. His lips.
“Me and old Mav here got some business to take care of, don’t we, buddy?” Reardon chuckled. “Might as well do that old fart, too.”
Maverick listened while Z growled back at his captors, no doubt manhandled and restrained, as well. It didn’t make any difference what Z tried, though. Maverick figured he, X, and Z were outnumbered six to one, maybe more.
He focused intently to get his bearings before the situation got more out of hand. The bunkhouse wasn’t any bigger than six bunks, a rickety table, and a corner full of appliances called the kitchen. He had to be seated near the table, which meant he was also near the only door. It faced the ranch house. The sound of boots scraping the doorstep told him the exit was to his right.
Someone dragged something heavy toward him. Z groaned again. The poor old guy had to be in the same fix. A chair thumped across the floorboards to Maverick as a gruff voice snarled, “Here’s the old man. They’re all yours.”
Okay. I’m facing Z. Where’s X?
Another chair scraped at Maverick’s right. Reardon sat down on it with a growl. “Jes’ the way I like ’em. It’s time. Git her ass down here.”
Maverick strained to detect every nuance and noise he could. Get who? Leezel? Did Reardon mean to drag her down here, too? Was he angry with her? Or was she part of this? At least he couldn’t get at China or Kyrie, thank God.
Boots thumped out the door and crunched away.
“You got some explaining to do, Mav.” Reardon tapped Maverick’s knee with a hard object.
Gun barrel? Knife handle? Maverick couldn’t tell. He could only guess what might happen next and try to remain calm enough to live through it.
“Ya think I oughta shave this old geezer while we got him trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?” a guy with a mean edge to his voice asked from Z’s direction.
“Go ahead. Might loosen his tongue,” Reardon replied.
Maverick cocked his head. By the sounds of it, Z resisted what was being done to him. Knives in play always meant trouble, especially if Reardon’s boys really were shaving him. Maverick clenched his biceps and fists to test the restraints, needing to help his friend. No wiggle room at all. Just the sharp cut of damned strong twine on his wrists.
The struggle ceased. A chair thumped back to the floor. “There. That’ll teach ’im.”
Maverick stilled. He had no way to know if Z was still alive. The old guy didn’t make another sound. Damn it to hell! If they killed him...
More boots on gravel signaled the biker’s return. Lighter footsteps accompanied it. He could picture them as clear as day. Six-inch heels. Red. He held his breath, mindful of the whole woman scorned thing. As if things weren’t already bad enough, Leezel had arrived. Shit.
“Pull up a seat, good lookin’,” Reardon offered cheerfully.
Leezel took a seat opposite Reardon, directly at Maverick’s left. Instantly her hand was on the inside of his thigh, pinching a line up to his crotch, as if she knew him intimately enough to do that. “I like ’em better like this—all tied up and no way to get away from me.”
Maverick swallowed hard. Damn. Reardon wasn’t mad at her. No. She just hadn’t needed to make her appearance until playtime got serious. Shit.
“Yeah. I knew you’d like ’em this way.” Reardon chuckled. “You always was a kinky little thing, but I only got the two. Where’s crazy Dick?”
“You mean X,” Leezel purred. “And I never told you he had a crazy dick. I jes’ said it was a teeny little thing, kinda like one of them pencil erasers.”
Reardon guffawed while Maverick absorbed that info bite. So, Leezel had some kind of a history with Xavier. Couldn’t have ended well. No wonder the poor guy was socially awkward.
She ran a hand alongside Maverick’s head and over his mouth. “Kinda hard to talk with this though.” She pushed the gag under his chin. “There you go, Mav honey. Now you can breathe. Is that better?”
Still blindfolded, he sucked in a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
“Knock it off, woman. They ain’t toys to be played with. They’s rats in a trap. That’s all.”
“Are you sure I can’t play with ’em?” Leezel continued stroking Maverick’s cheek. “I coulda had me a whole lot of fun with this one.”
Maverick leaned away from her wandering fingers. She kept rubbing the cut over his eye.
“Ewww. Damn it, Troy. He’s bleeding. You didn’t tell me you had a go at him.”
“Ya don’t think they’d be sitting here if I just asked ’em pretty please, do ya?”
“What... do you want?” Maverick finally got a word in edgewise. He couldn’t see yet, but he knew enough. With Reardon on his right, Leezel at his left, and Z out cold in front of him, he was in a bad way. But where the hell is X?
“Shut up!” Reardon punched Maverick’s jaw, knocking his head sharply toward the left.
A swell of dizziness roared through him. Leezel’s concern squealed nearby, but he couldn’t make out any words through the ringing in his ears. He shook it off and dropped his chin to his chest to steady himself and catch his breath. Blood filled his mouth. He swallowed it, rather than let Reardon know he had been hurt.
Reardon slapped Maverick’s cheeks and face again. “Come on, princess. Don’t go passing out just ’cause I hit yer purdy face. We got a long night ahead of us. The party’s jes’ starting.”
“Damn it, Troy. Don’t hit him if you still need answers. He ain’t no good to us dead.”
“He ain’t no good to us if you keep playing with him, neither. You keep handling his junk like that and I ain’t gonna wait for no answers.”
Maverick lifted his head to avoid more face slapping. God, help me. I’m stuck between two psychos.
Reardon scraped his chair close enough that Maverick could smell the chew on his breath. “Let’s try this again. I only got one question for you anyway, so make it easy on yerself. Where you hiding your girlfriend and the brat?”
Good to know. Z was alive, but where was X?
Leezel’s fingers edged up the inside of Maverick’s thigh again, drawing closer to his zipper. “Yeah, where are t
hey, Mav? You can tell me,” she coaxed while she traced her fingernails along the seam of his jeans. “Where’d Sis and my kid go? You’re the only one smart enough to have done something like that. Where’d you hide ’em?”
“They’re gone.”
“That ain’t good enough!” Reardon’s fist came down hard on Maverick’s knee and now he knew what that other object was. The blade nicked his neck at the same instant. Reardon had a knife. “You got to do better than that, pretty boy. Gone where? Spit.”
“Back East.” Maverick gasped for enough air to speak. “Virginia.”
“Shit, what’d I tell ya? He ain’t gonna tell us nuthin’.” Reardon shoved Maverick’s chair backwards, crushing his arms behind him as he hit the floor. Pain wrenched through his mashed hands and shoulders, but the blow to his head sent a wave of nausea up from his gut. He choked it down, wishing like hell he could see.
Leezel’s voice sounded eerily calm overhead. “You might be right. Why don’t you work that old guy over a few rounds first? Maverick likes him. Use that new blade I got you. Maybe my boy will be ready to talk then.”
Someone’s boots hit the floorboards.
“Z... doesn’t know anything.” Maverick writhed against his restraints. “I did it. It’s my fault. Leave him.”
“I know I’m gonna enjoy whipping yer ass when I git outta here!” They must have removed Z’s gag and he had come up fighting again.
Maverick grimaced at his plucky friend’s rage, glad to hear it despite what would happen next. Someone punched and slapped the old fellow. He grunted and groaned.
“God! Let him be!” Maverick yelled, but the beating didn’t stop until Z was once again silent.
Reardon kicked Maverick’s chair legs. “Your friend ain’t saying much. You ready to talk or do we need to open him up and see what makes him tick?”
“I already told you.” Maverick bucked against the chair and floor. “Z didn’t know anything about it. I did it. China and Kyrie are safe in Virginia where you can’t reach them.”
“Oh, come on, Mav honey.” Leezel knelt beside him and asked in her most syrupy voice, “How could you get them all the way to Virginia? That’s what, a dozen states away? What’d you do? Sprout wings and fly them there?”
“Alex Stewart.” He blew out a big breath as he struggled to talk. “The man I work for. He helped me get them out of here.”
“You believe that?” Reardon asked Leezel. “’Cause it still sounds like he’s lying. Looks like it’s time for a little game of cut-n-bleed. Let me get the boys and we’ll git started.”
“No. I don’t like that game.” Leezel’s left hand was once again on Maverick’s thigh, her fingers roaming upward. “It’s messy. ’Sides, sometimes you cut ’em too deep. I can’t play with ’em if they bleed out too fast.”
Not unless you know someone who’s just plain mean with a knife. Sheriff Hammer’s warning came back to Maverick. These two had killed before. They were the ones who’d knifed those men. What’d he say? Cut their balls off and their eyeballs out? Shit. Maverick’s throat went dry. It was gonna be a damned long night.
Leezel had her hands on his crotch again and her fingers in his hair. Having sex with men while they bled slowly to death was a whole new low. He’d heard about animals like her before. They scared the hell out of him. For the first time since all that crap went down in Afghanistan, fear shuddered through him. Damn.
She pushed the blindfold off, and Maverick blinked into the face of a coldblooded killer. Her face split with an odd smile, the kind with no joy to back it up. She stared through extra-thick eyelashes and enough eye shadow to give Dracula a run for his money. Her lips were painted the same color as her shoes. And that slinky dress. Damned if Leezel Wolf wasn’t dressed to kill.
With an intentionally long, slow lick of her lips, she dipped down to his ear. “You’re shaking, Mav,” she whispered. “I kinda like it when a big, strong guy like you starts shaking and sweating. Makes me all wet inside. I’ll bet you want to play now, don’t you?”
“What’d you say to him?” Reardon demanded. “What’s he telling you?”
Leezel breathed out a big sigh. “Oh, nothing. Maybe you oughta give me a few minutes alone with—”
“Enough!” Reardon jerked her off her feet. “You had your chance to loosen his tongue; now it’s my turn.”
“All right. All right. Hell, Troy. Don’t get yerself all worked up.” She sidled up to Reardon, her hands all over his chest and up his neck. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
He bent one elbow around her neck and jerked her into his face. Maverick looked away at the wet kiss. God. Reardon had to be twenty years older than Leezel. Twenty years of damned tough riding that had made him uglier than sin.
When he released her, she glanced down at the man at her feet. “I do kinda like the chair and rope thing you did though. Look at him. Mav can’t fight back with his arms trapped behind his back like they are. Makes him look all sorts a weak and helpless for a change, don’t it?”
“He don’t look so tough, that’s for sure.” Reardon kicked him in the side.
Maverick gasped as the shockwave reverberated through his whole body. He forced himself to focus. His head pounded and he would be unconscious before long, if Reardon didn’t kill him first. He had to make his last few seconds count.
“Him laying there on his back like that makes me feel all sorts a powerful and, I don’t know, kinda hot. You know what I mean, Troy?” She gave Reardon an eyeful with one of her chest jiggles. “I mean, here I am standing over a damned fine piece of male meat. I could do anything to this drifter that I wanted, couldn’t I? Who’d care? Who’d even know? He ain’t nobody.”
Reardon grabbed her up tight against him, his breath ragged and angry. He clenched the cheeks of her ass with his fingernails. “What’d I tell you? You better knock it off, woman.”
“Why a course, Troy honey.” She knew how to pour it on thick and sweet. “Think about it, though. You and me could be having us a good time while we make him watch. You wanna get kinky with me?”
Reardon face lit up. “’S why I love you, little girl. You’re as sick as they come.”
She clutched his head and planted another disgusting, wet kiss on his ugly mouth. Reardon moaned, and Maverick closed his eyes, sickened that he might be forced to watch something as ugly as Reardon screwing Leezel while he bled out at their feet.
“Hey, chief,” one of Reardon’s boys called through the open bunkhouse door. “We got trouble. Spike says Hammer’s headed this way.”
About damned time!
Leezel separated herself from Reardon’s mouth, her fingers still fluttering on his chest. “Troy, honey. Hurry. I heard talk Hammer’s been asking lots of questions at the hospital, too. If Mav ain’t gonna talk, burn him. Catch X ’fore he gets away. He ain’t smart enough to git too far.”
“Then let’s get the hell outta here.” Reardon dragged her out the door behind him. “Come on, guys. My old lady says light ’em up. The ranch house, too. Let’s give Hammer a real warm welcome.”
God! Where the hell is X?
Maverick stopped worrying when the smell of gasoline reached his nose. Reardon guffawed at the door over something one of his biker buddies said. A roar went up outside the bunkhouse. Reardon’s voice rose above the noise. “It’ll go up in a sheet of flames, jes’ like the barn did. Don’t need to waste the gas—”
Another round of raucous laughter drowned out Reardon’s last words.
“Wait!” Leezel’s voice rose above the enthusiastic howls. “Don’t light the match yet. Just one more teensy, little thing I gotta do before you guys have your fun. Okay?”
“Damn it, woman,” Reardon growled. “You drive me crazy with all yer games. Git it done before I burn yer ass, too.”
“Well, okay, sweet thing. If you say so.” She giggled at the doorway, looking over her shoulder. “Be right back.”
Reardon’s slapped her ass so hard she nearly trippe
d off her heels. “And that dress better not be hiked up to yer tits when you’re done if you know what’s good for you.”
Another shudder ripped up Maverick’s back. He sucked in a deep breath and sent his heart flying to China’s across the miles. I love you, baby. Know that.
Leezel dropped to her knees beside him.
A guy had no choice but to look at her boobs, shoved in his face like they were. He swallowed hard and faced the crazy bitch, hoping against hope she had an ounce of China’s kindness buried somewhere under that stupid dress.
No way in hell. Dark, black eyes stared down at him. Not a hint of goodness showed through the void between her lashes. Goodness had no chance against the evil in her soul.
“I jes’ can’t resist you, Mav honey.” She leaned into him and took his head in both of her hands. This was no loving caress. She dug all eight fingernails into his scalp, her thumbnails beneath his cheekbone. She meant to draw blood, her eyes wide and full of nothing but animal lust. She licked her lips. “I gotta do this ’fore you’re roasted, cuz you know. I don’t like fried chicken.”
“Untie me. Get us outta—”
“Oh no, I can’t let you go. I only came for this.” She covered his mouth with hers, and pushed her tongue past his bloodied lips. Deepening the assault, she moaned like this was in some way a moment of passion.
Nose to nose, he stared into her bright eyes, bright with an emotion he had never seen this close and personal before. Leezel was stone, cold insane. She meant to kill him and she meant to laugh when she did it. Maverick prepared mentally to die with some semblance of honor and dignity.
Leezel giggled. She ended the violation of his mouth with her teeth clamped on his lower lip as if this was an exciting part of the game. Then she made it worse. She hiked that damned dress up over her bare ass and straddled him.
Maverick Page 27