Diesel Therapy (Selena Book 2)

by Greg Barth

  “You’re such a dear,” I said.

  I sat in the back of the van as Johnny drove me to god knows where. I smoked my Winstons and flexed my hands. I began to feel better than I had in days. The breakdown the day before seemed to have given me some release. That combined with an easier day did me a world of good.

  I was sore from where I’d been hit, but nothing was broken or damaged.

  Johnny stopped for lunch. Again I was allowed out to use the restroom. He brought me a sandwich and an iced tea, which I ate in the back of the van. When he came back to check on me, I was holding my stomach.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Let’s get you to the restroom.” He had bought me a toothbrush and toothpaste, and he gave me those.

  He got me to the restroom just in time. My bowels were ready to explode.

  I used the facility then brushed my teeth. I began to feel like a new woman.

  When I was getting back inside the van, I grimaced in pain. “Johnny, I really hate to ask, but can you get me something for my ankles? Some bandages, thick socks, or some aspirin or something?”

  “I can,” he said. He pulled a key from the key ring on his belt and removed my leg irons. “Better?”

  “Yeah. That’s good. You’re a saint, you know that? I can’t think of the last time anyone showed me human compassion.”

  “They expect us to be tough’,” he said. “We have to keep up a strong front. It’s not often that I can show kindness.”

  “It must get tiring,” I said. There are reasons why they don’t send male guards out alone with females in chains. But he had his plan, and I had mine. We’d see who took advantage of whom. Worst case scenario, I’d get a drink out of it.

  “And you know all privileges will be revoked again tomorrow. But I thought you could use a day off.”

  We got back on the road. I’d eaten so much I felt sleepy. Since I was free of the leg-irons and waist-chain, I stretched my legs out across the van and leaned my head against the window. I watched as the miles stretched out behind us. In some ways, I didn’t want this day to end. I felt so much better.

  But the day did pass. The sun lowered in the sky and the shadows grew long. As it grew later, I noticed a black car following behind us. It wouldn’t have caught my attention, but the same car had been there for a few miles. I looked closer at the driver. A large woman, tall, with long bangs like Cindy Crawford from ’92.

  Something about her looked familiar. I leaned up closer to the window and peered through the steel mesh that reinforced the Plexiglas.

  It wasn’t Cindy Crawford, and it wasn’t a woman.

  It was the large man who killed my friend Henry then filled my body with .32 caliber slugs on the mountain in North Carolina.

  Ragus.

  I was staring death in the face.

  Apparently Gabby had gotten the call out, and Pete Malucci had reacted with urgency.

  I put the back of my hand up to the glass and extended my middle finger.

  T WENTY-FOUR

  Selena

  IT WAS NIGHT.

  I watched through the back window as the van pulled off the interstate. The exit came out on the edge of some town in the middle of nowhere. We wound back around on a five-lane that went under the interstate overpass.

  The van stopped, then Johnny made a right turn. Struck me odd that the intersection led us back under the overpass. We entered an unused parking lot. I could tell it was unused because the striping was faded, there was no lighting, grass and weeds growing tall through cracks in the pavement. No other vehicles in the lot.

  I felt the centrifugal force as the van whipped around something, then we passed alongside an old brick building. It appeared we were in an empty strip mall or grocery store complex. Another turn and we were at the back of the building, a row of trees along the edge of the parking lot.

  He parked the van and turned the lights off. Everything went dark. The night was silent. I heard the occasional semi pass overhead. Who the hell builds an interstate over the top of a grocery store?

  He got out of the van and closed the door.

  This is where it would go down. I felt nervous but determined.

  I flexed my fingers, opening and closing my fists. The bracelets of the cuffs were loose on my wrists.

  The relative comfort of the day’s travel compared to previous days, the extra food, the hydration all combined to help me recover from the emotional breakdown from the day before. I didn’t sleep last night, but I’d rested in the back of the van all day.

  I was ready. If he joined me in the back of the van, only one of us would emerge alive.

  The door opened, and there he stood.

  “Hey, baby. You bring me something to drink?” I said.

  The transport officer climbed in with me. He left the door cracked. “Evan Williams do the trick?”

  “Oh my god, you’re a saint. Did you know I’m from Kentucky?”

  “Nah, girl, I just got what I thought you might like.”

  “Black label?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’ve been on the wagon too long. You are the man in my book.”

  “Have I been nice enough to you today, Selena?” He sat down on the bench beside me.

  “A girl could fall in love, you know?”

  He chuckled. He broke the seal on the bottle. He wrapped the brown paper tight around the neck and handed it over to me.

  I had to grab it with both hands because of the handcuffs.

  “You want something to mix it with?”

  I put the rim of the bottle to my lips and turned it up. And just like that, every cell in my body sang out a combined chorus of Fuck Sobriety.

  “I guess you don’t,” he said.

  My stomach felt alive from the bourbon. I was warm inside.

  “You want some?” I said, holding the bottle out to him. My voice sounded stronger.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, I can’t drink it all myself.” Actually I could, but it wouldn’t be ladylike on a first date, and I needed to keep my wits about me.

  “You mind if I put my arm around you?” he said.

  “You gonna take these cuffs off?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Johnny. I’ll make it worth it.”

  He shook his head. “The cuffs have to stay on.”

  If I’d learned anything while being transported, it was that men love bondage.

  He leaned in and kissed me. His lips were greasy and tasted like some kind of meat. Hamburger or something. Gross.

  I pulled back. “You get those condoms?” I took another drink.

  He nodded.

  “Give me one.”

  He pulled one from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “Stand in front of me,” I said.

  He got up and positioned himself in front of me. The bench height where I sat was just about right. He was a tall man, so this should work.

  My hands were cuffed, so I had to do everything with both hands like they were one. I reached out and rubbed him through his uniform pants. He stiffened.

  “Officer, I think you have a concealed weapon here,” I said.

  I kept rubbing him. As weird as it sounds, I started to get a little bit turned on. It had been a long time for me. A long time. I reminded myself that if I actually got laid, it meant all my plans for the evening had failed.

  It was dark in the van, but if I looked closely, I could make out the items on his belt. I saw his pistol. It was of a type I had no idea how to use. He had a can of mace, handcuffs, and a long, black nightstick with a side handle. He wore it on the left side, and it looked like it slipped through a hoop and hung there. I felt a set of keys in his pocket. I put my face against the front of his pants and rubbed my cheek against him. I kissed and nibbled at his stiff cock through his pants.

  I pulled at his belt. It was heavy and thick. I fumbled at it, but I couldn’t f
igure out how to loosen it.

  “Here,” he said. He made quick work of it.

  I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down. There was a clunk as the heavy equipment on his belt hit the floor. I rubbed his cock with both hands through his boxers.

  “Mmmm,” I said. “I can tell this is a nice one.”

  “You like it?”

  “Mm hmm. It’s so big. I think it likes me. See how it’s doing? I can tell it likes me.”

  I reached up and tugged his shorts down. His cock sprang free, and, well, right there it was, just inches from my nose.

  I picked up the condom, opened it and put the tip of it in my mouth.

  “Oh, I don’t think we need that just yet,” he said and pulled it from between my teeth.

  Rude.

  I knew he was no gentleman. I guess his mother never told him that it’s the woman’s choice whether she’d rather taste a man’s junk or latex.

  He grabbed my hands by the cuff chain and pulled them up high. He hugged them against his chest. “Hands stay up here,” he said. This son of a bitch had it all figured out. With my hands above my head, I couldn’t grab his gun. He’d done this before.

  I rubbed his chest with my hands. I felt his nipples stiffen through his uniform shirt.

  He put his hands behind my head. My arms were straight up over my head against his chest. His arms encircled mine and kept me from being able to move them. His hands pulled me toward him from the back of my head.

  “Now this might get kind of rough. Can you take it deep?”

  I was about to get viciously throat-fucked. “I’ll try, baby,” I said.

  I spread my legs wide apart so that he could come in closer. I wrapped my legs around the back of his. I locked my feet together behind him.

  “You have such a big dick,” I said.

  “And it wants you,” he said. “It’s wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, Selena. You and your hot little ass. My god, I’ve thought about you so much. Day in and day out.”

  “Did you?” I took a sharp intake of air. “Oh my gosh, did you think about me today? You did, didn’t you? That turns me on so much.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day today,” he said.

  “Then give it to me,” I said.

  He pulled my face up to him. I opened my lips to him. And then he was in my mouth and thrusting at my tonsils. He shoved himself hard into me and pushed from the back of my head, forcing my face against his hairy pelvis.

  I tightened my legs tight behind his knees and shoved at his chest as hard as I could with my cuffed hands.

  “Shit,” he said.

  His cock sprang from my mouth as he fell backward. He collapsed in a heap right on his ass. His head hit the bench opposite hard.

  I moved fast. I felt around on the floor for his belt. I found it down around his feet. I knew about where the nightstick should be. I found it, both of my hands working together, and pulled at the handle. It was stuck. I pulled harder but couldn’t get it free. I felt the metal hoop that held it and found a loop that went around the handle and snapped it in place. I pulled at it with my fingers and felt a snap break loose.

  He was trying to sit up.

  The nightstick came free. I raised it high above my head and brought it down as hard as I could on his face.

  He grunted.

  I hit him again and again. Each blow made a thunking sound on his forehead. He struggled, tried to grab the stick but I smashed it against his fingers. He drew his hands back and moved them down to his feet where his pants were.

  His head remained exposed, but I couldn’t let him get to his gun. I swung the stick down at his right hand and smashed his knuckles hard.

  His cock was still stiff and sticking straight up. I smacked at it with the stick. He quickly moved his hands to cover himself.

  I took advantage of that moment to pound his head a few more times.

  “Stop it. Stop it,” he shouted.

  I screamed back at him. My arms burned from the effort. I couldn’t kill him with the stick. It was a good weapon; I was just too weak to use it effectively. But if I could knock him unconscious, that could work too.

  I kept pounding at him.

  “Please,” he said. “Jesus please.”

  I brought the stick down on his lips, his nose, and his eyes as hard as I could. When he put his hands up to block me, I pounded at his balls until he moved one hand to cover them. I then pounded at his hands until they were shattered and bloody.

  He cried. He screamed. He made inhuman sounds.

  It got to the point that I couldn’t keep it up any longer. I was out of breath and my strength had left me. He had a radio transmitter clipped to his shoulder. I used my last ounce of strength to smash it with the stick.

  While he lay there making pathetic, whiney sounds, I pulled his shoes from his feet, then took his pants off. I took his pants along with everything in the pockets, his belt and everything attached to it, and the nightstick, and I got the hell out of that van.

  When my feet were on the pavement, I slammed the door to the van shut. I checked it. Locked.

  “Fuck!” I said. I had forgotten to grab the bottle on my way out. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I wanted that Evan Williams. I had the keys and could open the door, but that would mean having to escape from him a second time. Its moment had passed. I’d find another bottle.

  I stood there for a few minutes to catch my breath. I had no idea where I was, but I had to get away.

  I ran around the side of the building. I held onto the belt and pants tight in my cuffed hands so that I wouldn’t drop them. When I got to the front of the building I saw another car in the parking lot. A mid-sized black car. A man stood in the shadows beside it.

  His face lit up in an orange glow as he took a long draw on his cigarette.

  “Hey there,” the man said, blowing out his smoke. I knew the voice. I knew the face. It was Ragus.

  I stopped running. “Hi,” I said. “I suppose you’re going to kill me now.”

  T WENTY-FIVE

  Selena

  HE FLIPPED HIS cigarette to the side. “Now why would I kill you?” he said.

  “You killed Henry,” I said.

  “Probably. I probably did kill Henry. I’ve killed a few folks. I’d be surprised if there weren’t a Henry or two in there somewhere. Who the fuck is Henry?”

  “My friend. You shot him on the side of the mountain in North Carolina. He was a good man.”

  “Henry was trying to shoot me.”

  “Because you were trying to shoot me.”

  “I was being paid to shoot you, because you killed a bunch of people.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You listen to me, you stupid fucker. This is not about me. Henry was my friend and a good man, and you fucking killed him. Now how do you feel about that?”

  He stood there silently for a moment. I think he was giving my question some serious thought. Finally he said, “I feel pleased that I shot him before he could shoot me.” His answer sounded oddly sincere. “I think you killed Henry, actually.”

  “What? How does that make sense? I liked Henry.”

  “He got shot because he was with you after you killed some people. There’s logic there if you can find it.”

  “Okay, well you just stay away from me.”

  “Get in the car, Selena. I’m here to help.”

  “I don’t need your help. I fucking hate you.”

  “I fucking hate you too, but I’m here to help.”

  “Help? You fucking shot me. Remember?”

  “Yes. I killed you.”

  “Bullshit. You did not.”

  “Yes I did. You shot me too, you know? But I fucking killed you.”

  “Then how am I standing here alive in front of you?”

  “I have no idea. I have to be honest; it’s fucked with me a little bit ever since. But I know I did. I don’t know how you came back or why. Except to kill Faranacci. But, hey, I put two in
your chest, one in your head. I’m counting that as a kill. Don’t try to take it away.”

  “You’re a stupid, crazy fucking idiot,” I said.

  “Get in the car. You’ll never get away on foot. Never. They’ve got satellite GPS in that van. Federal Marshals will be here any minute. I know a place we can go and be safe.”

  “Safe? With you?”

  “How far do you really think you’ll get handcuffed, carrying a man’s pants, dressed like you are, and with no money?”

  I shook the pants at him. “There’s a wallet in these pants, asshole. I’m not broke.”

  “Those pants belong to a US Marshal. Trust me, honey, you’re broke. Let’s get those cuffs off you and go get a drink. What do you say?”

  I walked around to the passenger side of the car. “Fine. For a drink, I’ll go with you. I still fucking hate you, though.”

  “Well, I still hate you back.”

  I got in the car.

  He got in next to me and started the engine. He put the car in gear and we sped off.

  “This place you’re taking me, does it have a bathtub?”

  “A big one.”

  “Hot water?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to soak for an hour.”

  “You can do that. It’s a safe house. Up the road about ten miles. Better to lay low here than make a run for it. They’ll have roadblocks up in no time. I was planning on springing you when you got to the county jail. This driver you were with, though, he wasn’t following protocol very well. Anyway, this is better. We just have to get there.”

  “So you were planning on getting me out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How were you going to do that at the county jail?”

  “Wouldn’t have been easy, but I have my way of doing things.”

  I thought about this. Maybe I didn’t hate the guy so much. Then I thought of him shooting Henry and me, and I started hating him again. I couldn’t just let it go. I had to get this out.

  “Is it too much to expect you to apologize for killing my friend and shooting me?”

  He looked confused. “Apologize? What?”

  “That’s right. Say you’re sorry. Like a decent human being.”