When the girls went at it with each other, it gave him a break to catch his breath and reenergize his hard-on. Ever since he’d turned forty-five, his erections and his stamina had started to fade a bit.
Old Doc Brown, the drunk who lived in the stateroom at the far end of the boat, had offered him a supply of the little blue pill, but he wanted to put off that level of assistance for as long as he could. So far Patricia and Dawn could still get him up and off, so he figured there was no reason to add medication to the mix. Not yet. Though he was considering it.
He went to the door and opened it. “Who the fuck is here?”
“Somebody named Jigsaw in a black speedboat.”
“Jigsaw?” he said, wondering what the hell was going on. The ruthless man had never met him on open water like this. Their meets were usually planned far in advance and at some clandestine location. Never with others around.
“Did he say why he was here?”
“No. Just that he demanded to speak with you immediately. Who’s Jigsaw, boss?”
Blake nudged the six-foot-tall chick to the side as he slipped past her, not giving her an answer. Then he stopped his feet and turned to her. He pointed at the girls on the bed. “Keep them company until I get back.”
“Keep them company?” she asked with a look of confusion filling her big, beautiful blue eyes that hovered above a petite, turned-up nose.
“Yeah. It’s time, Traci. Time to eat some pussy and become a full-fledged member of the crew.”
She hesitated, looking at the girls and then back at him with her long, exquisite eyelashes blinking rapidly.
He nodded, pointing at the bar in the corner of the room. “There’s some wine and booze if you need it. I’ll be back in a few minutes to join you.”
She turned and went inside the room, untying the string on the back of her bikini top. He watched her toss it aside, then remove her bottoms before climbing into bed with the other girls.
Blake took off down the hallway toward the stairs at the far end, running through a few scenarios in his mind. He replayed their last few conversations, thinking through Jigsaw’s talking points.
Nothing stood out that might explain the need for this unscheduled visit. He was sure he hadn’t forgotten to complete any of his assigned tasks. Plus, none of them had gone sideways. That meant something new had come up. It was the only explanation.
His feet pounded at the steps, taking him topside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dixie huddled next to Kat, trying to keep the girl warm as the ride in the back of the old truck continued. The Carnegie brothers had removed her shirt and left her in a only a bra and pants before they tossed her into the vehicle with the other members of the Pandora crew.
There was dirt and scratches on Kat’s shoulders and back, plus a bruise on her cheek from God knows what. Her eyes were distant and her face looked numb, either from the brisk air rushing past, or from whatever might have happened in the barn before the marauders came into the house, looking for Wicks.
Dre was sitting next to Kat and across from Diesel, his vision focused at his feet while the sway of the truck rocked him from side to side. The normally exuberant kid was eerily silent and still, not moving his eyes or his head since he’d been tied down like a dog.
The Carnegie brothers had been hauling ass on the country road for about thirty minutes on their way to Jericho, meaning they should be closing in on Wyatt’s place. Dixie had never been to his compound, but Wicks had mentioned it was less than an hour’s drive from Pandora—at normal speed.
She wasn’t sure what came next, but prayed Wicks, Simon, Slayer and the men of Jericho would be ready when this band of criminals rolled up.
There was a deep-rooted ache in her bones and it was spreading like freshly-released snake venom. She’d felt the sensation once before. It was six years ago and only moments before she received the news that her parents were killed in a fiery plane crash. The chilling ache meant something bad was coming, and it would start with her.
Dixie was thankful G, Jazz, and the prisoner named Austin hadn’t been nabbed, too—three less people to worry about. With Kat, Dre, and Diesel sitting with her, she had her hands full already.
She figured the others must’ve heard the commotion upstairs and slipped away by using the hidden escape tunnel. There weren’t any gunshots before the men tossed her into the truck and sped off, so she didn’t think they’d been taken out in the pasture and shot to death.
Diesel was sitting across from her with his shoulders hunched and eyes glazed over, probably suffering from a concussion. The gash in his forehead had finally stopped bleeding, but the skin was hanging open. He needed stitches and a few days in bed to rest.
If they hadn’t all been gagged and tried together at the feet, she might’ve been able to convince her friends to jump from the speeding truck to get away. However, each had their hands bound behind their backs and lashed to the nearest tie down, so none of that was going to be an option.
She made eye contact with the heavy-set black man sitting next to Dre, on the other side of the truck. He, too, was gagged and tied to the truck bed. His face carried bruises and there were several bloodstains on his chin and white shirt—another victim of the men who had announced they were the Carnegie brothers.
Dixie didn’t know who the uniformed man was, but his face told her he was in deep in thought. Or perhaps he was just scared shitless and distant. She couldn’t tell which.
The vehicle swerved to the left, sending everyone in the back of the truck leaning hard to one side as the convoy tore down a dirt road. She sat back up, then had to brace herself when the truck came to a full stop ten seconds later.
Sean Carnegie flew out of the cab from the passenger side and came around to the bed, holding his shotgun high and directly at Dixie’s face. She stared at the barrel, only an inch from her right eye.
His brother Sebastian slid out from behind the steering wheel, joining the effort. He stood next to Sean, then took a long-handled knife from a sheath on his belt. He held it up for a second, then angled and pressed the glistening tip to her chest.
Dixie leaned back and flared her eyes, thinking he was about to drive the blade into her heart. She watched Sebastian turn his head at Sean and wait, like he was seeking approval to kill her.
“Get busy,” Sean said with firmness in his voice.
“No! No! No!” she screamed into the gag, hearing her own words garbled beyond recognition.
Sebastian laughed, showing his ugly smile, then moved the knife from her chest down to her feet. A second later, he cut the rope to free her from the others.
Dixie let out the breath she was holding in her lungs, realizing they weren’t going to kill her. At least not yet. She slid her legs back from the brothers, tucking them to one side.
Sebastian put his hand on her shoulder and leaned her over, then cut the connecting rope keeping her tied to the truck bed.
If her hands hadn’t been bound together, she would’ve brought a fist around and landed a punch. But she couldn’t, so she did the only thing she could—scoot back a few inches.
Sean’s hand went behind her back, grabbing one of her wrists with a forceful grip. He yanked hard, spinning her torso around until she was lying on her back, looking up.
He moved his hand to her shirt collar and pulled her backwards, sliding across the bed of the truck and past the others, who were now squirming and screaming muffled words into their gags.
A second later, the open tailgate passed under her back, then she dropped to the ground hard, sending a thud into her spine. She ignored the pain and looked up, meeting Sean’s sadistic smile with her eyes.
He brought his hand down and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her to her feet.
She struggled for a few moments, then stopped when the back of his hand struck her right cheek. The sting was intense, but she never cried out. If she hadn’t had the cloth in her mouth, she would’ve spit in his face
right then and there, then leaned forward and taken a bite out of his huge, mangled nose.
He grabbed her hair, pulling her in close to his lips. “Resist me again, bitch, I cut ya fucking heart out. Then I’ll do da same to ya friends. So what it gonna be?”
She turned her head and looked away, letting her resistance fade.
“Dat’s what I figured,” Sean said, dragging her around to the front of the truck. He gave Dixie to Sebastian, then hopped up and sat on the hood, facing forward.
Sebastian moved his hand from her shoulder and put it on her ass, grabbing a cheek with his open palm. He guided her forward, then lifted her off the ground with her butt cupped in his hand.
She knew what they wanted her to do, so she climbed up under Sebastian’s control. Sean spun her around and positioned her in his lap with her back against his chest.
Sean’s left hand was now wrapped around her waist while his right hand held the end of the shotgun barrel to the side of her head.
“Drive slow,” Sean told his brother.
“Yeah, I know,” Sebastian said, disappearing to her left. The truck listed to one side as she felt him climb into the driver’s seat, then shift the transmission into drive.
There was a tug at her stomach, then the touch of his lips against her ear. “Hold still, otherwise ya end up as roadkill. And ya know what happen to roadkill round here. It end up in a pot for supper.”
She nodded, feeling his breath on her cheek. His arm inched up, pressing at the skin just below her breasts.
Dixie thought about Kat and what they’d probably done to her in the barn. Anger swelled, pushing her blood pressure higher than it already was, fueling her mind with thoughts of retribution.
Right then an idea came to her. She was sitting in Sean’s lap with her hands tied behind her back. His attention was focused elsewhere, and probably wasn’t aware that her fingers were only inches from his crotch.
All she’d need to do was reach out and grab his balls, then squeeze them with all her strength.
Yes, crush the life out his ball sacks—that’s what her heart wanted to her to do—payback for Kat—payback for Diesel—payback for all the other people these assholes had hurt over their pathetic lives.
She opened her palms and was about to reach out and latch on to his manhood, but then her logic screamed at her to stop. She did, pulling her hands back and curling them into fists.
His pain would only be temporary and eventually he’d recover. Then he or his brother would kill everyone she knew and loved. In the end, her plan wouldn’t accomplish anything and only make matters worse. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t go through with it. She had no choice but to let the thoughts of revenge slip away.
The truck inched forward, passing the other vehicles and taking the lead as the convoy approached what she assumed was Wyatt’s compound and its main house.
Sebastian drove the truck slowly past the damaged front gate, then pulled around and parked facing forward in front the farmhouse. The other trucks inched forward, taking positions on both sides of the vehicle she was sitting on.
The home had significant damage across the front, looking like someone had detonated a bomb on the porch. The roofline had caved in and exposed some of the interior. Some of the debris had scorch marks and so did one of the remaining walls.
To the right and farther back on the property, she noticed two more structures—barns, she assumed. The first one must have been burned to the ground, leaving only some of its foundation behind with charred wood along its base.
The other barn looked like another bomb had gone off, part of it collapsing in on itself. A lengthy antenna pole was lying nearby, probably for Wyatt’s ham radio station.
Dixie felt a push from behind, sending her ass across the hood and down past the grill. Her feet hit the ground with Sean landing behind her. He was still holding the barrel of the shotgun to her head, but his left arm had moved up from her waist. It was now wrapped tight around her chest, pressing down on her breasts.
The two of them walked three steps closer to the building, then stopped.
Sebastian joined them a few seconds later, standing to the side with his rifle pointed at the front of the house.
Dixie could hear more gear rattling and the clatter of movement behind her. She figured some of the other men had joined the skirmish line.
Sean pressed the shotgun into her temple, making her head lean to the left. Then he took in a deep breath, pressing his chest against her back.
“Come out, Wyatt! And bring dat slut of a sister with ya. Otherwise, I spray dis bitch’s brains all over ya property.”
Dixie’s panic turned into a flood as she waited for signs of movement inside the house. Her insides felt like melted cheese and her head was spinning. It was all too much to process, not knowing if the very next moment might be her last.
Her eyes darted around the homestead, looking for clues, but none were to be found. She moved her gaze to the shotgun trained at her head.
Right then, time seemed to slow down—the seconds ticking by in long, extended beats. Every one of her senses was on fire while she waited and listened for the click of a trigger—a single, nearly inaudible click that would deliver the end of all she was and all she would ever be.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could simply switch off her awareness and let it happen. She didn’t want to be tuned in when death came at her, fearing the shock of a painful, tragic demise would haunt her soul for all of eternity.
Sean spoke again, louder this time, snapping her eyes open.
“Wyatt, you asshole! Don’t ya test me, boy! Come out now or I pull da trigger. Got more in da truck and I waste ‘em all.”
Thirty agonizing seconds went by and no answer came. Neither did any sign of movement from inside the compound.
“Look like he gonna let ya die, girl,” Sean said to Dixie. He let go of her, then kicked her in the ass, sending her stumbling forward.
“Run, bitch!”
“What you doing, Sean?” Sebastian asked.
“Target practice,” he answered in a swift, decisive voice.
She hesitated, thinking about making a break for it, just as her captor suggested. Every fiber of her being wanted her to take off running, knowing it was her one and only chance to get away.
It might work if she ran in a zigzag pattern. But she couldn’t move her legs. She tried again to convince them to run, but they wouldn’t budge. It felt like they were anchored in the mud.
Before she could try again, a tsunami of thoughts and feelings poured into her, taking her down a new line of thinking. Running away was precisely what the asshole wanted. Somehow she knew he needed a reason to gun down an innocent girl.
Then a woman’s voice spoke up from inside the darkest recess of her mind. She’d never heard the tiny voice before, but she knew it was right and she needed to listen to it.
Stand your ground. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
She spun in the mud and dropped to her knees, looking up at him. Her tears stopped and so did the trembling, as a new kind of strength rose from within. It was something she didn’t know she possessed, but it brought a sense of order and peace to an otherwise impossible moment in her life.
Sean held the shotgun up and aimed it her way. His hands started shaking, then his face turned a deep red color as fire grew in his eyes. The standoff continued for another few seconds, then he craned his neck and let out a long, commando scream that made her bones quake.
When his lungs emptied and his voice ran weak, he brought his eyes back to her and put the shotgun against his shoulder. His face went blank and she knew right then, he was going to pull the trigger.
She stiffened her back and held out her chest, never taking her eyes from him. Death was coming for her, but she was determined to meet it head on.
“Fuck you, asshole,” she said into her gag. She knew he couldn’t understand her words, but she wanted him to hear them anyway.
Before Sean could pull the trigger, Sebastian stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Dixie.
“Get outta my way, brother!” Sean yelled.
“No, Sean. We not do dis.”
“Move! Now!”
Sebastian didn’t flinch. “Put da gun down.”
“Why da fuck would I do dat?”
“Because dis ain’t da right move.”
“I be in charge, not you. Now move ya ass, boy!”
“How do ya know Wyatt and his sister even be here?”
Sean didn’t answer.
“Look around. This place already attacked. Whoever they were might have killed Wyatt and Tally, or taken dem hostage when they left. We really don’t know for sure. If dey not here, then killing this bitch won’t change a thing. What if we need her later?”
There was a long silence, then Sean’s face appeared to Dixie when he moved out and around his brother. His shotgun was no longer in a firing position, its barrel aimed at the ground.
“Spread out. Search da place,” Sean said, taking his eyes from Dixie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Wicks walked side-by-side with Simon as they followed Sister Hannah on a dirt path that cut through the middle of the sprawling grassy areas on the Amish property.
Slayer was a few yards behind her and had been holding up the rear ever since they’d left Wyatt in the hands of the Healer. The cleanout and dressing of her brother’s gunshot wound seemed to go well, and now he was asleep.
There were a number of two-story buildings ahead of them, all of which were on the far side of three sections of split-rail fencing that seemed to go on for miles, disappearing beyond the rolling hills and tree stands of the property.
The buildings were all painted the same—a basic tan color with a dark brown trim. Their steep, twin-peaked rooflines were covered in what she assumed were wooden shake shingles, though everything had a red hue to it, including the white fencing and green countryside. There was also a brick chimney rising above the center of each structure, puffing a long trail of smoke into the crisp country air.
Redfall: Freedom Fighters (American Prepper Series Book 2) Page 18