“Awright, Red, I know you’re awake. Get up, or Blondie here’ll tan your hide.”
I squeezed my eyes shut in a futile attempt to make it all go away. My breath came in jerky gasps while I fought the panic.
Should I play dead a little longer?
But he knew I was conscious. I’d have to move sooner or later, and choosing ‘later’ would only net me a beating.
I groaned and lurched awkwardly onto my knees, my head hanging to avoid the trunk lid. Let them think I was still completely out of it…
Peering through the curtain of my hair, I took stock. Now I knew why they weren’t worried about getting caught. I recognized the abandoned Wright farmyard from the time I’d brought a spy here to coerce information from him.
Back then I’d chosen this place because there was nothing around for miles, and the tumbledown house hid us from the road even on the off-chance that someone drove by on the way to nowhere.
Karma’s such a heartless bitch.
I groaned again.
“Get out.” The man’s voice jerked my attention back to him.
Head still hanging, I memorized his features. No idea who he was. And I’d definitely recognize that bulbous nose if I’d ever seen him before. Christ, the thing looked like a potato in the middle of his face. Beside him, Eleanor Parr still clutched his belt, her face almost as white as her knuckles.
“Now, bitch! Move it!” Potato-nose jerked his chin from Eleanor to me. “Hit her again.”
I hunched my shoulders against the blow. “Gettin’ out,” I mumbled, my mouth not quite cooperating. “Jus’ gimme a minnit…”
Shit, if I squirmed around and stuck my legs over the edge of the trunk to slide out, they’d see my Glock for sure when my pant leg rode up.
Kneeling like this, I could reach it. But I couldn’t shoot them with my hands tied behind my back. I’d probably end up shooting myself in the ass…
“Hit her.”
I did the only thing I could think of. Tucking my head under, I toppled forward out of the trunk, twisting as I fell.
The impact slammed the breath out of me. The long dead grass prickled my cheek, and when I managed to get my lungs working the winter’s accumulation of dust and mildew made me cough and sneeze.
But I had succeeded. I’d landed on my side with my legs bent away from my captors. Please let my pant leg conceal my gun…
“On your feet, Red. Let’s go for a walk.”
I drew in another breath and went into a paroxysm of coughing that left my eyes and nose streaming. Tears and snot trickled down but with my hands tied behind my back I couldn’t even twist my face around to wipe it on my shoulder.
“Get her up, Blondie.” Potato-nose let out an evil chuckle. “Or hell, pull her pants down and give her a good spanking with that belt. I like me a little girl-on-girl action.”
“You’re disgusting.” Eleanor’s cultured voice trembled, whether with fear or revulsion, I couldn’t tell. “You can carry her in. You’re certainly being paid well enough to do a little manual labour.”
He guffawed. “Blondie, the only manual labour I’m gonna do is jacking off while you get it on with Red here. She can walk on her own. She’s too damn heavy to carry. Besides, when they find her body the only DNA evidence they’re gonna find on it is yours.” He raised his voice. “Hey, lardass, move it! You ever think about going on a diet?”
“Fuck you. It’s muscle,” I mumbled through the snot and residual Taser reaction.
“Hit her.”
“No.” Eleanor’s voice was faint but defiant.
“What was that, Blondie?” His voice turned ugly. “Did I hear you say ‘go ahead and blow my kid into a million pieces’?”
“No!” Her shriek of sheer terror froze my blood. “No-don’t-I’ll-do-anything-you-say-please!”
His chuckle turned my stomach. “That’s better. Now hit her. And make it a good one.”
The belt whistled and cracked across my hip and I didn’t even try to suppress my cry of pain and fear. If I made it look good, maybe she wouldn’t hit me so hard next time…
“Now get moving, Red, or I’m gonna make Blondie here get real funky with you.” The revolting chuckle came again. “’Course maybe you’d like that.”
I almost told him to fuck himself again, but managed to keep my mouth shut. Instead I squirmed to draw my knees under me, then lurched precariously to my feet.
“Bring her.” Potato-nose jabbed a finger at the caved-in porch of the house, and Eleanor took my arm.
Up close she looked even worse, her pallor accentuated by dark circles under her eyes and her formerly-manicured nails bitten down to nothing.
My grand plans to kick and run were completely unattainable. It was all I could do to stay upright.
We navigated erratically toward the house, staggering and stumbling while my still-uncooperative legs negotiated the uneven ground. Eleanor clung to my arm with skeletal white fingers, and I wasn’t sure which of us was holding the other up.
Inside the dubious shelter of the porch, Potato-nose gave me a shove that sent me sprawling across torn linoleum, shards of broken glass, and other things I preferred not to identify.
“Tie her legs.” He tossed a nylon tie on the floor and Eleanor picked it up from the filth with the tips of two fingers before advancing on me, white-faced.
My heart lurched. If she tied my ankles she’d find my gun…
As she crouched and reached for my ankle I kicked. My foot thudded into her arm and she cried out and toppled to the floor, whimpering.
“Hit her.”
As Eleanor staggered to her feet I met her eyes, pushing a psychic message at her with every fibre of my being.
Don’t tell him about my gun…
Apparently she got ‘psychic’ and ‘psycho’ mixed up. Her face contorted, her eyes blazing.
“I hate you, you bitch!” she hissed, and laid into me with the belt.
The blows fell thick and fast. I tried to spin and kick, to catch the belt with my legs and yank it away from her, but she gripped it with both hands and slashed at me again and again with berserk strength.
Nowhere to go. Couldn’t even protect my head and face with my hands tied. Panting and wheezing, my heart slamming against my ribs, I kicked and flailed frantically.
At last I got a solid hit on her knee and she crashed to the floor with a scream.
Potato-nose chuckled. “Awright. Playtime’s over, girls.”
The sizzle and burn of the Taser reduced me to scrambled brains and twitching muscles.
Chapter 44
When I recovered enough to comprehend my surroundings again, my ankles were tightly bound and my Glock was gone. Eleanor Parr crouched in one corner of the dilapidated room, looking barely human with filthy clothes and dishevelled hair and savage hatred gleaming in her eyes.
Potato-nose lounged in the opposite corner, idly turning my trank pistol around and around its trigger guard. “Hey, Red,” he said. “You ready to talk now?”
I spared a moment of thankfulness for the aftereffects of the Taser. He couldn’t know that my violent shivering and tears were sheer terror, not electrical overload.
I said nothing, mainly because I wasn’t capable of speaking.
Potato-nose gave an exaggerated yawn. “This is boring as shit. I should just kill her now.”
“Don’t you dare!” Eleanor’s voice was a venomous hiss. “I paid you well for this. You’ll leave her alive until I have my answers or you’ll never get another dime out of me.”
Wait, what? She paid him?
My still-foggy mind attempted gymnastics far beyond its current ability and I groaned.
He glared at Eleanor. “Hey, Blondie, if you get snotty with me I’ll blow up your kid.” He extracted what looked like a television remote from his jacket pocket and hovered a finger threateningly over one of the buttons.
“NO!” Eleanor rocketed to her feet. “I told you, I’ll do anything you want, but I want my an
swers first!” Tears tracked through the grime on her cheeks. “I need my answers! That was our deal! That’s what I paid you for!”
Potato-nose snorted. “Honey, I don’t think you’re getting the picture here. I’ve got a gun. Hell, two guns.” He laid down my trank pistol and drew a Glock from behind his back.
Not mine. Too big. So where was mine?
“And I’ve got your kid,” he went on. He gestured with the remote. “You rich bitches are all alike, you think the whole world should lick your fancy shoes just because you throw some money around. Well, I got news for you, Blondie. I own you now.” His gaze travelled over her from top to toe. “Hell, maybe I should take you for a little test-drive. Like a new car. Make sure the ride’s good.” His face twisted in a leer.
Eleanor went stock-still, her face blanching to bone. After a moment her mouth opened, looking horribly like a reanimated corpse. “I told you,” she said in a bloodless voice. “I’ll do anything you want. But I’ll have my answers first.”
“Well, hell, Blondie, if it means that much to you.” Potato-nose made a magnanimous gesture with the Glock before pointing it at me and miming pulling the trigger. “Shoot.”
Eleanor advanced on me, her eyes glittering in the half-light. “You’re Arlene Widdenback,” she said. “The arms dealer.”
It wasn’t a question. And it was safer than admitting my real name.
I nodded.
“Bitch!” she hissed, and her foot flashed out.
I reared back, but apparently she wasn’t trying to kick me. Her foot scuffed the dirty floor, sending a shower of filth and broken glass into my face.
I jerked my chin to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. Something stung my cheek, followed by the warm tickle of blood.
“Why did you frame my husband?”
The question was so unexpected that my eyes popped open to goggle up at her. “I didn’t.”
“Do you know what you took from me?” she snarled. “My husband. My friends. My good name. My life!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “My son thinks his father was a criminal! Don’t you lie to me, you bitch!”
This time she did kick me, but she wasn’t very strong and I rolled with the blow as best I could. Still, it was enough to make me curl up and suck air.
“Not… lying,” I gasped, flinching away from the belt that was already whistling down. It cracked across my thigh and suddenly I was furious.
I couldn’t prevent my cry of pain, but before she could hit me again I yelled, “Fuck off with the belt! Why would I lie to you?”
“To stay out of prison,” she snapped.
I surprised myself with a bark of laughter. “That’s really not a big worry for me right now, is it? I don’t see any cops around here.”
“Oh…” The belt wavered and her brows drew together. “No, I suppose not…” Her spine stiffened. “My husband was not a criminal!”
I said nothing, since it didn’t seem wise to piss her off all over again.
“He wasn’t!” she insisted. “Was he?”
She had probably meant the question to be challenging, but it came out more like a plea.
I looked up at the ravaged shell of what had once been a poised and beautiful woman. White and trembling, she stared down at me, the belt hanging as if forgotten in her grimy nail-bitten hand.
I could only imagine the loss of social status and the desertion of all but her truest friends. Her husband dead. Her marriage a lie. Her child endangered by the casual cruelty of scum like Potato-nose.
Pushed beyond her limits.
I understood.
Sympathy welled up despite the knowledge that these were probably my last moments on earth. Or maybe because of it.
“Eleanor,” I said gently. “I’m sorry. All the charges laid against him were accurate. I’m pretty sure he loved you, but Nick really was a criminal.”
“You lie!” Her voice broke like a shattering heart. Tears rolled down her face. “You… lie…”
She collapsed to sit on the floor, legs splayed in front of her like a broken doll. Staring blindly at the wall, she whispered, “He never loved me. I’m such a fool.”
“No, Eleanor, that’s not true.”
She said nothing, just stared at the wall with tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Eleanor. Eleanor, look at me!”
Her empty gaze turned to mine.
“Eleanor, he loved you,” I repeated. “I could see it in his eyes, there on the plane when we were talking. He might have taken advantage of your family connections, but first and always he loved you. If he hadn’t, he’d have used you. Framed you for his crimes and let you go to jail in his place.”
She straightened just a bit. “He never took a penny of my money. Any time I tried to invest in his business, he just…” Her voice choked to a whisper. “…he’d always say, ‘That’s your money, Dearest… save it…” Her chest heaved, strangling her words. “…for a… rainy… day…” She curled into herself, weeping great racking sobs.
My heart breaking for her, I could only lie there helplessly watching her cry.
Potato-nose rose, jerking my attention back to him. “I’m so touched,” he mocked. “Let me get a tissue, boo-hoo. Got your answers, Blondie?”
Eleanor gave no indication she’d heard; just rocked back and forth shaking with sobs.
He leaned against the wall, turning the trank pistol around and around. “My turn, then.” His piggy little eyes narrowed. “So, Miss Arms Dealer. This something new on the market?”
He hefted the pistol. “Tell me. Or else.”
When I didn’t reply, he said, “Hit her.”
Eleanor ignored him, or more likely never heard him. Lost in her grief, she rocked and cried as though she was utterly alone.
Potato-nose’s lips tightened. Ejecting the magazine, he held it up. “Little darts instead of bullets. These poison darts?”
I clenched my teeth and stared up at him in silence, my heart hammering.
Completely at his mercy. No rescuers coming.
I was no hero. I wouldn’t last long under torture, but I wouldn’t quit without trying.
He growled and slapped the magazine back into place, working the slide. “Hell with it. Gonna kill you anyway, so let’s see what this thing really does. Say goodnight, Red.”
He pointed the pistol at me and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 45
I swam slowly up through murky depths. Afraid to breach the surface. Afraid not to.
Terrifying reality lurked above, but urgency drove me toward it. Had to do something. Something important…
I dragged my eyelids open.
Face pressed to the filthy floor. Entire body aching.
I managed not to groan.
Stay awake.
Take stock.
A tiny movement of my head took a gargantuan effort, but I managed it.
No sign of Potato-nose.
Eleanor Parr crouched facing the doorway with her back to me, holding my Glock. She must’ve taken it off me without telling Potato-nose when she tied my ankles.
She obviously didn’t know anything about firearms. Clutching the gun two-handed, she had both forefingers wrapped over the trigger. Her right hand was so high on the grip that if she fired, the slide recoil would shred her thumb.
My heart leaped at the opportunity, then plummeted. I might be able to knock her over if I could get my body to cooperate, but I’d never get the gun away from her with my hands and feet tied. And even if she’d never fired a gun before, she could hardly miss me at this range.
Considering the level of hatred she’d shown, throwing myself on her mercy would be a waste of time. But maybe I had some leverage…
“Eleanor,” I whispered, mildly surprised that my mouth seemed to be working. A cautious wriggle proved that the rest of my muscles were more or less under my control again, too. Nothing like a nice drug-induced nap to shake off the Taser reaction.
She squeaked and spun to face me, the gun s
haking wildly as she pointed it at me. “I thought you were dead.”
I managed not to flinch. “Nope. Eleanor, let me help you. Cut me loose and give me my gun, and I’ll take care of Potato-nose for you.”
“Potato…?” She gulped, half-laugh and half-sob. “How stupid do you think I am? If I let you go, you’ll kill me.”
“No, I won’t. But I’ll kill him.”
Her eyes blazed with momentary hope before dulling to despair again. “You lie. You’re a criminal just like him.”
“I’m not lying.”
I almost said ‘trust me’, but thought better of it. Adrenaline pounded in my veins. How long did we have before he came back?
I went on rapidly, “Eleanor, think about it. Killing you would be stupid. A high-profile woman like you? The investigation would never end. I don’t need that kind of trouble.”
She turned away to train the gun on the doorway again. “I don’t need your help. I’ll k… kill him myself.”
The hesitation on the word ‘kill’ told me everything I needed to know.
“Eleanor.” I kept my tone soft and unhurried despite the panic constricting my lungs. Making it hard to breathe. Trapped…
Don’t blow this one chance.
I forced a deep breath into my wooden lungs.
“Eleanor, you’re not a killer. Don’t make your son think you are.”
She stiffened. “Leave my son out of this. When I k-kill… Potato-nose…” She hesitated. “He calls himself Harold Jones. When I kill him my troubles will be over.”
“No, they won’t. Eleanor, listen to me. If you kill him, then what? What are you going to do with the body? The car? Me? Your fingerprints and DNA evidence are all over his belt, all over the car, all over that gun, all over me. You have motive and opportunity. You’ll go to jail for life and someone else will raise your son-”
“No!” Her voice was a hiss. “I’m smart. I’ll figure something out…”
“Maybe you will. But Eleanor…” I drew another breath, fighting the terror that wanted to strangle me. “You have to kill him with your first shot. If you don’t, he’ll blow up your son just for spite. And I can tell you right now, the way you’re holding that gun you’ll hurt yourself worse than you’ll hurt him.”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 33