9 More Killer Thrillers

by Russell Blake

  Butch smiled and started turning away before swinging back to punch Razor in the face, knocking him to the ground.

  “Can you feel this in your gut?” he snarled, kicking at Razor. “Is this your crew, you little shit?”

  “No, Butch,” Razor gasped, clutching his stomach. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  “It’s a bit late for that, pal,” Butch snapped. “Yeah, Olly’s dead and that sucks. And don’t forget my bike was totalled too, so I want to get my hands on the fuck who did it. I’m pretty sure it’s that son of a bitch, Tops, so I want us to find him. Willy and Nose are probably in on this like that old guy said inside so I want us to catch those little bastards too. How are we gonna catch them if we just get the hell outta here? How are we gonna make them pay if we don’t even look for them?”

  “You’re right, Butch,” Razor replied, staying alert to fend off any further blows. “I should have just shut up.”

  “Damned right, you should have just shut up,” Butch agreed. “Now get up and start looking for those sorry assholes.”

  He looked around at the others and added, “Anyone else got questions or smart-ass advice?”

  When nobody responded, he shouted, “Well, get at it.”

  * * * *

  With nobody around to keep an eye on them and with considerable difficulty, Chris and Jonathan had managed to reposition their chairs, aligning Chris’ left hand with Jonathan’s right wrist. However, for all their efforts, Chris could barely grasp at the duct tape securing Jon’s wrist and only with his little and ring fingers.

  “The bastards really laid it on thick,” Chris muttered as his pinkie once again slipped away from the ever so slightly frayed edge of the tape.

  “Yeah, this isn’t their first time so they know what they’re doing,” said Dave as he helplessly watched. “I’m sure they’re responsible for a home invasion in Brighton I read about earlier this week. Same M.O. They’re wanted for vandalism, theft, assault, rape, arson and murder. The Ontario cops had no leads on these animals and now they’re here with us.”

  “It’s good to know we’re dealing with guys who take their work seriously,” Jonathan muttered.

  “And that we have something to look forward to,” Chris added, flexing his working fingers. “What I wouldn’t give for just one of those pieces of glass lying all over the place.”

  “Why don’t I get you one,” Dave joked then tensed and whispered, “Someone’s coming.”

  “Well, well, ladies, rearranging the furniture, I see,” said Butch as he strolled back into the dining room seconds later. “I can’t leave you assholes alone for five minutes and you start messing up. That’s a damned shame if you ask me. A damned shame indeed.”

  * * * *

  “You bastard!” Sandy shrieked as she burst into tears.

  Via the security camera in the dining room, the women had seen Chris and Jonathan painstakingly reposition their chairs followed by Chris’ attempts at getting through the tape binding Jon’s right wrist. A moment earlier, the obvious leader of this crew of bandits had sauntered back into the room and seemingly scolded his prisoners. He had then pulled Chris’ chair away, turning it so it faced Jonathan and Dave from several feet away.

  With the two men forced to look on and powerless to help, their captor had proceeded to viciously slap, punch and kick Chris for several minutes, all while chattering away with a smile.

  “If it’s the last thing I do,” Sandy vowed as tears streamed down her cheeks, “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Leslie hugged her and said, “We’re going to get him, babe, and he’s going to pay for everything he’s done.”

  * * * *

  “I hope you guys are gonna start taking me seriously,” said Butch, giving Chris a couple of rough, final pats on a blood spattered cheek. “I meant it when I said you had to play by my rules. You can’t mess around on my watch cuz it pisses me off and then I lose it.”

  “You okay, Chris?” asked Dave.

  Chris raised his head and nodded, his split, bloody lips curling into a smile as he winked with the eye which wasn’t swelling shut. “I don’t think my friend here broke anything.”

  Butch laughed. “Nah, I went easy on you. I wouldn’t want our buddy, Jonathan, to start calling me a wuss.”

  “You are a wuss,” said Jonathan. “Anyone who beats on someone who’s bound up like you just did is a damned coward.”

  “Are you looking to get hurt, Jon?” Butch asked, his smile fading as he stepped closer. “I don’t care if your tough guy acts scared the crap outta Dibs. I ain’t impressed and if I have to, I’m gonna hurt you.”

  “Go ahead, asshole,” Jonathan urged. “Beat on me all you want. Slice me open with a knife, gut me and shoot me with your damned gun. I don’t care because the whole time you’ll be doing it, pretending you’re mean and tough, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you’re a wimp, a pussy, a damned gutless pansy with no balls.”

  Butch glared at Jonathan for a moment, his fists clenched, before breaking into a smile. “Nice try, buddy. You were hoping I’d cut you loose again, weren’t you? I’ll tell you something. I may be a wuss but I’m no idiot.”

  He turned and headed for the kitchen, pausing at the doorway to add, “I’m going to get me a beer and check up on my crew out there but I’ll be back so don’t do anything to piss me off while I’m gone. Got it?”

  Chapter 14

  Saturday - 6:02 p.m.

  Though Rat had yet to say anything, he fully agreed with what Razor had dared to say to Butch just a few minutes earlier. They should cut their losses short, pack up and move on to their next stop, wherever Butch decided that was. Where Razor had made his mistake was in sharing his opinion in front of the crew as Butch did not tolerate being challenged or second-guessed by anyone, his subordinates in particular.

  For Butch to agree with him would have meant to lose face which was something their leader would never allow. What Razor should have done, which was what Rat planned to do, was speak to the boss in private. Butch would have then morphed Razor’s reasoning into his own idea and informed the others of his decision, once again demonstrating his higher intelligence and leadership abilities.

  This was what Rat believed would happen once he spoke to Butch. Once their search activities were over, and whether or not they found the three missing crew members, he was certain he could convince Butch to decide that leaving was their best option.

  He would explain that this particular invasion was unsuccessful though through no fault of their leader. Following his usual impeccable search criteria, Butch had, in fact, selected a private, well located and lucrative target. However, he had no way of knowing that the woman, or women as it had turned out, would be gone a day later. Butch would agree with this logic, blame the dames for screwing up his plan and call it quits.

  In the meantime, Rat would enjoy himself by cruising around the lake in the fancy powerboat at his disposal and, who knew, he might even find Willy floating on the Sea-Doo somewhere, out of gas.

  * * * *

  “He seems to be sticking to the shore,” said Cathy as she watched the Barry’s powerboat through the binoculars they had borrowed from the neighbor’s home.

  “Excellent,” Sandy replied, opening up the throttle on their rented bass boat. “He’s not going too fast either. We should be able to get ahead of him by cutting across the lake.”

  Moments after taking off in the seaplane, Josée had called to announce that two of the men had just left the dock, one heading south toward town on the remaining Sea-Doo and the other, north on the powerboat. The two women had hurried out to the bass boat in time to see the powerboat cruise by at a leisurely speed. Not wishing to raise the man’s suspicions by following him outright, Sandy had headed in a north-westerly direction toward the center of the lake before roughly paralleling his course at a higher speed.

  They glided across the water’s calm surface in silence while Cathy
kept track of the other boat’s location. It soon became obvious that the man was in no hurry as he slipped further behind them, inadvertently playing right into the crux of their plan, that being for them to reach some spot ahead of him where he would come upon them. Unfortunately, that was where the specifics of the plan ended with any subsequent elements to be played largely by ear.

  “We’ll be breaking down soon,” said Sandy, adjusting their course slightly eastward to get a bit closer to the shore. “There will be too many houses, and prying eyes, if we go any further north.”

  Cathy nodded as she scanned the lake, noting the absence of any pleasure craft close by. “I guess our timing is good though. It’s dinnertime for most.”

  A moment later, Sandy cut the engine then removed the cover and loosened the spark plug connections before putting the cover back in place.

  “We’re ready to go,” she said. “Let’s try to get our boy’s attention.”

  The two women started waving their arms at the slowly approaching boat though it was still a fair distance from them. A couple of minutes later, the man seemed to have noticed them as the boat accelerated and veered in their direction. A few more minutes passed and the boat slowed then came to a near stop a dozen feet away as its pilot briefly reversed the engine.

  “Can I help you ladies with anything?” the stocky twenty-something year old called out.

  “Our engine died on us,” said Sandy. “Can you give us a tow?”

  “I guess I could,” he replied, looking them over. “What would be in it for me?”

  Cathy glanced at Sandy with a smile and said, “What do you have in mind?”

  The young man grinned. “Well, you both are fine looking ladies.”

  “You’re not bad looking yourself,” said Sandy, letting her eyes roam down his body. “I think we could work something out.”

  “Really?” he replied, surprised. “If that’s the case, I’d love to give you a tow. Let me get closer and we’ll get you hitched up.”

  He maneuvered the boat, bringing it alongside the other bow to stern, and held it steady while Cathy climbed aboard to tie a line which Sandy tossed to her. Within moments, the line was secured and Sandy had joined them in the powerboat.

  “So, where are we going, ladies?” Rat asked, anxious to get things underway.

  “We’re staying with three girlfriends for the weekend down that way,” Sandy replied pointing back to where they had come from. “I’ll call to let them know we’re bringing a guest.”

  “Did you say three girlfriends?” asked Rat, his excitement growing. “Are they as good looking as you two?”

  Cathy laughed. “Yes, she did say three girlfriends and they’re even better looking. Two of them in particular are somewhat younger and drop-dead gorgeous. You’ll love them.”

  “Awesome,” said Rat, thinking he might make the ladies available for the crew once he’d had some fun on his own. “Go ahead and call your friends. I’m Rat, by the way.”

  “My name’s Louise but my friends call me Lou,” said Sandy, thinking fast, “And the cute blonde here is Becky.”

  Sandy made the call and was soon telling Rat that April and Daniela were looking forward to meeting him, particularly since he was a hunk in their age bracket. Jocelyne was out for a bit getting wine and steaks for dinner but he would have the pleasure of her company as well when she returned. Looking forward to some intimate moments with not two but five women, Rat had the throttle open wide for the duration of their ride and they were soon docking at the neighbor’s borrowed home.

  “So, do you ladies own this place?” asked Rat, concerned with the proximity to the home the crew had invaded.

  “Oh, no,” Sandy replied, taking his arm as they strolled toward the house. “We rented it for the week. We find a place by a lake for a week every summer, just us girls, for some R and R, partying and fun. What about you? Are you from around here?”

  “No, my buddies and I got a place nearby for a couple of days,” Rat replied. “If you girls want to party with us later, maybe you can head on over with me.”

  “Oh, that could be a blast,” said Cathy as they climbed the steps to the veranda outside the sunroom, “But I’d say we start by having a bit of fun with you here first.”

  “You’re not gonna get any arguments from me,” Rat replied as they entered the house.

  “Have a seat,” Sandy invited, gesturing toward a couch before calling out, “Hey ladies, we’re here with Rat.”

  “Be there in a minute,” a voice replied from somewhere in the house.

  “While we wait for them,” said Cathy, her voice husky, “Why don’t we make you a bit more comfortable? Let’s get those jeans of yours off of you.”

  Rat grinned as he stood and unbuckled his belt. “You sure don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “Not when we’re with a hunk like you,” said Sandy, gazing at his crotch as she lightly caressed his thigh, “And we do have a debt to repay.”

  “I’ll warn you ladies, I go commando,” he said before dropping his baggy jeans to the floor and exposing his already erect penis.

  “My, oh my, you don’t waste any time either, big boy,” Cathy teased as she pushed him back onto the couch while Sandy picked up his jeans and tossed them onto an armchair.

  “Sorry I took so long,” said Leslie as she entered the room carrying a Browning Maxus 12 gauge short barrel shotgun aimed at Rat’s groin. “It looks like my gun is bigger than yours.”

  “Wh-what the hell is this?” demanded Rat though he was smart enough to remain quite still.

  “What the hell do you think it is, you son of a bitch?” Sandy replied, going through his jeans pockets and finding a small .22 caliber pistol. “How about if I give you a hint. Do you know who lives in the house next door, asshole?”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rat spluttered.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Sandy shrieked before swinging out her foot and kicking him in the shin. “I’m talking about the house you and your bastard friends have invaded. How about if I tell you the boat you were joyriding in, the boat you rescued us with, is MINE.”

  “Y-yours?” Rat repeated, dumbfounded. “H-how can it be yours? I took it next door.”

  “That’s my house, you asshole,” Sandy screamed, pointing his pistol at his face. “My husband is one of the men you have tied up in there. You animals have been beating on them. I should blow your brains out right now.”

  “Whoa, whoa! Y-you don’t want to do that,” Rat stammered, turning white. “I-I didn’t touch anyone, lady. I swear.”

  “What about the mustard and ketchup?” Sandy demanded, rapping him on the head with the gun butt.

  “Ouch, Jesus,” Rat muttered, wincing. “Look, that didn’t hurt them. I didn’t do anything else.”

  “And you’re not going to either,” said Leslie, gesturing Sandy back. “Get up.”

  “Why?” asked Rat in fear. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’ll blow your balls off if you don’t do what I say,” Leslie replied. “Get your ass off the couch.”

  Rat stood on shaky legs and asked, “C-can I put my pants back on?”

  “You don’t need your pants where you’re going,” said Leslie. “In fact, lose the t-shirt and the shoes.”

  He stared at her in disbelief then peeled off his top and kicked off his shoes before asking, “You happy now?”

  “I’ll be happy when we’ve looked after every one of you bastards,” Leslie replied. “Now, clasp your hands behind your back.”

  He complied and Sandy quickly bound his wrists with a zip tie.

  “We’re going to the basement,” Leslie informed him and pointed. “Through there and to your left down the hallway. Do anything I consider remotely stupid and you’re dead. Now, get going, nice and slow.”

  Rat started moving, taking extra care to avoid doing anything stupid, and made his way out of the sunroom and into the hallway as Leslie fel
l in behind him with the shotgun aimed at his back.

  “Through that open door to the left and down the stairs,” Leslie ordered.

  He headed downstairs, noting that the area below was lit and as he approached the bottom, he saw that Cathy was already waiting in the basement, standing off to one side of the large open-air space and pointing a large handgun at him.

  “Come stand by this door,” she said, “Feet together. You’re done walking.”

  “I’ve got him covered,” said Leslie as he moved to the indicated spot.

  Setting her gun aside, Cathy kneeled behind him and zip tied his ankles.

  “There we go,” she said, rising back to her feet. “Now, we’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Aw, jeez,” Rat whined. “What questions?”

  “How many of you are there?” asked Leslie from across the room.

  “How many what?” Rat replied “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sighing, Leslie approached him, turning the butt end of the shotgun toward him as she came.

  “What are you doing?” Rat cried, crouching down with difficulty in an attempt to protect himself.

  “Either answer our damned questions,” she said, “Or I’ll beat you to death, you dip-shit. How many are in your damned gang?”

  “Okay, okay,” replied Rat. “We’re, uh, ten.”

  “Wrong answer,” said Leslie before clubbing him on the side of the head with the shotgun and knocking him over. “Try again.”

  “Let me think,” Rat cried from where he curled on the floor.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Leslie muttered, shoving him over with her foot then pressing the business end of the shotgun against his testicles from behind. “Last chance. How many?”

  “Thirteen,” Rat whimpered. “We were thirteen but two are dead and three are missing.”

  “How did the two die?” asked Leslie.

  “One of the old guys killed Ape,” said Rat, “But it was Ape’s fault. He wanted to fight and the old man took him out fair and square.”

  “What about the other one?” Leslie demanded.