When Jude’s gaze trails back over to me, I can see the caveman inside him, bashing his club on the ground and grunting. "Nope,” Jude says. “Not good enough. Give me the address of this shithole."
"Jude..." Gabe starts.
"Just fucking give it to me, dick. I'll bring your fucking truck back."
Gabe sighs. "Whatever makes you feel better, princess." He grins and Jude goes to whack him, but stops himself.
"I swear to God, Gabe..." Jude grunts as he grabs the keys and heads out the house.
He's wound so tight I'm sure he's about to physically snap. Marney shrugs as he pushes up from the table and heads out the door. I totter after them in these stupid heels. Jude angrily opens the passenger door to one of Gabriel's cars and waits impatiently as I get in, trying not to let this dress show him everything. God knows if I flash him now he'll drag me back to the house by my hair and make me wear a jump suit. He slams the door so hard that the car rocks slightly. Marney climbs into the backseat, already lighting a cigarette before he's even closed the door. That man smokes more than any man I’ve seen.
Jude's grumbling when he climbs into the car and cranks it. He takes one last look at me and shakes his head, huffing as he backs out of the drive.
I open the glove box and take out the gun that I know Gabe left for me. It's tucked into a leather holster with a strap. I yank my dress up and strap the holster to my thigh, keeping the gun on the inside.
"You get in the damn truck and the very second that door slams shut, you shoot the worthless shit in the head because I swear to God, if he so much as touches you, Tor..." Jude’s face turns red and his jaw starts ticking. He can’t even finish his sentence, so he just lets out a hard breath as he taps his hands over the steering wheel. "Goddamn Mexico..."
“Goddamn Mexico is right, boy,” Marney chimes in from the back.
"Jude," I place my hand on his thigh, his muscles tensing under my touch. I trail my hand higher. "I won't let him touch me."
"Better fucking not."
I smirk. He's a total Neanderthal, but I love him for it.
"Ah, hell, Jude," Marney mumbles. "Gotta have a little more faith in your woman, you know?"
"Marney..." Jude sighs.
"Fine. I'll just sit back here and smoke my cigarette and keep my trap shut, how 'bout."
"Sounds good to me." Jude glances over at me from the corner of his eye as we barrel over the desert road. Another quick glance and he adjusts his dick.
"Really?" I lift an eyebrow at him.
"Look, you're packing heat...between your thighs. Don't judge me."
"You know, you are the most temperamental fucker I've ever met."
He smirks. "Look whose fucking talking. Gave me a fucking wedgie when I tried to give you a bath. You smelled like shit. Ungrateful..." he shakes his head. "And angry as a hornet."
"You both got a temper," Marney grumbles, and we both ignore him.
"You tried to give the captive, innocent girl a bath...that's not fucking creepy." I shake my head.
"I just said, you smelled like shit, and it's not like I fucking kidnapped you. What was I supposed to do in that situation?" He takes a hard right and I slam against the door.
"Um, let me go..."
His eyes dart over to me and he smirks. "I did...you came back."
I glance at him, his square jaw covered in stubble, those lips that could lead any woman into hell. "You were pretty." I smile and shrug one shoulder. "And charming in a murderous, grouchy sort of way."
"Mm-hmm."
And then…silence. I can tell he's tense as we drive along the deserted road, so I leave him be, watching the barren landscape whisk past the window. The hour it takes us to reach the border seems endless, and my nerves are wound tight by the time we get there. The border security wave us straight through, and I guess being in Gabe's car has something to do with that. He probably has half the border patrol on his pay roll.
We drive another forty minutes into America before we find the truck stop Gabriel spoke of. Jude sighs as he parks beside the ice bin and turns the ignition off. I don't even want to look at him, but he grabs my chin, turning my face towards him, giving me no choice.
"I am giving you two fucking seconds after I hear a gunshot before I come in there." He hangs his head and groans. "This is fucking stupid. I could just as easily fucking walk up to him and put a bullet in his head. In fact..." Jude grabs the gun from the console and reaches for the door.
"Jude, no!" He pauses. I place a hand on his chest and feel the strong pounding of his heart against my palm. "This isn't Juarez, it's America. You shoot a guy in a packed bar and someone's going to care. It'll draw too much attention."
"Just calm your horses there, boy. She'll be fine, won't you, little darlin'?" Marney winks at me and pats my shoulder.
Jude glares at Marney before switching his attention back to me, his jaw twitching.
"So grouchy," I say on a smirk, and kiss him quickly before I throw the door open and get out.
I walk across the gravel car park. The wind kicks up a whirlwind of dust that swirls around me. The sound of old school rock music comes from the run-down building in front of me. The front is lit up with a bright red neon sign that glows: 'Big Teds'.
Trucks are parked up, and I wind between them, making sure to pop a little sway into my hips when I walk through the open doorway. A meek attempt at air conditioning blows a stream of warm air at me. The bar is full of middle-aged, overweight men, all perched on bar stools drinking beer. I scan the bar until I spot the guy on the end, tanned skin, black hair, and a snake tattoo winding around his forearm. I look at his face, but his eyes are fixed on my chest. He takes a long swig of his beer, shamelessly staring at every inch of me.
This will be easy.
I saunter over to the bar, taking up residence next to him. I lean on the counter, ignoring him as I wait for the bartender.
"What can I get ya, sweet cheeks?" the wrinkled man behind the bar asks as he hoists his belt up.
"Whisky on the rocks," I say, channeling Marney and putting on my very best redneck accent.
The bartender nods and walks off, grabbing a glass and placing it in front of me. I watch as he throws some ice in it and then pours in the amber liquid. The ice cracks and pops. I dig around in my bra and pull out a ten-dollar bill.
"Thanks, sugar," I say on a wink, handing it to him.
"Allow me," a heavily accented voice says. I turn to the driver with the snake tattoo and smile. "Put it on my tab," he says.
The bar tender slides my money back and disappears. "That sure was mighty kind of you," I say, running my finger around the edge of my glass. His eyes track the movement and a smirk pulls at his lips. He stands and walks over to me, stopping right beside me. I force a smile as my gaze slips over the gut protruding from his food stained, white wife beater. His black hair is greased back, and he smells like cigarettes, but not in the good way that Jude does. This man is just dirty and gross.
"A pretty lady should not buy her own drink."
I giggle like the bimbo I'm supposed to be. "Where you headed, hun?" I ask.
"Me-he-co," he says, his eyes dropping to my chest once more.
"Oh, you are?" I ask excitedly. "I really need a ride to El Paso. I got the bus here from Alabama, but I only had enough money to get this far. You couldn't help a girl out, could ya?" I drag out the words in my feigned southern drawl, and wink.
His smile widens. "Sure I can, sweetheart. But…what are going to offer me in return?" He bites his bottom lip and drags his eyes over me until I feel violated just standing near him.
I plaster a smile on my face. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something." I wink and down my whisky. God knows I might need it to get through the next few minutes, especially if Jude sees him looking at me like that. Jesus Christ.
He downs his beer, belches before he pushes off the bar stool, then slaps some cash on the counter. God, this man can't possibly have been laid anytime in the last
ten years. With any luck, he'll be so excited by the thought I won't have to do a damn thing. I walk out of the bar, and I know he's staring at my arse the entire time.
"Which is your truck, sugar?" I ask, and he points to a matte black, brand new truck at the back of the lot.
I sidle over to it, my ankles straining in these stupid shoes. The locks chirp and he opens the door, holding it for me. Of course he wants me to walk up the steps in front of him so he can look up my dress…And then he'll see the gun.
"After you," I say, raising an eyebrow. "What kinda lady would I be if I let ya look up my dress?"
Laughing, he shakes his head as he grabs the railing and hoists himself up into the cab. He offers me his hand and pulls me up with him. The second the door closes; his hands are on my breasts pawing and pulling at the material. Oh god, he smells even worse this close. He tries to kiss my neck and I swallow back bile, reaching for the hem of my dress. He grins wide and I smile back at him as I grab the gun, yank it free, and point it at his head. His eyes widen for a second before I pull the trigger twice.
Bang. Bang.
And just like that, he's dead.
28
Jude
I’m leaned against the side of the building, staring at that truck. The bang from the gun firing sounds, and Marney leans out the window of the car. “Welp,” he chuckles, “guess that’s that.”
One shot. That was it. The noise could have easily been a car backfiring, a firework. I glance around, to see if anyone seems alarmed. The only people around are old truckers eating burgers at a raggedy picnic table to the side of the bar. They just keep shoving the food in their mouths.
I push off the building and quickly walk toward the truck, rounding the side of the trailer. As soon as I go to place my foot on the stair, the door flies open. Tor's still gripping the gun in her hand. Blood splatter is all over her chest and face. I glance behind her at the dead guy sprawled out on the massive center console, then look back at Marney and nod.
He cranks the engine and pulls off.
"You called him sugar..." I slam the door shut and take a seat in the driver's chair, staring at her as I feel around for the keys.
She crawls over the dead body and reaches in his pocket, pulling out a key fob and handing it to me. "Yeah, I was channeling Marney. Like," she says, "if Marney were a girl."
I just shake my head and crank the engine. The truck rumbles and jumps, the hood shaking. "It smells like sweaty balls in here," I mumble as I put the gear in drive.
"Yeah, because he smells like sweaty balls." She wrinkles her nose. "Can't we just kick him out in a ditch somewhere?"
"I thought maybe you'd want to hang onto sugar for a bit longer," I smirk at her.
She flips me off. "Sugar had wandering hands. A ditch is just fine for him." She starts shoving at the body, trying to push him into the back.
"If only Gabe were here," I sigh as I pull onto the highway.
She stops shoving and looks at me. "You know, you really shouldn't encourage him." She positions her back against the dashboard and places her feet on the man’s side. The hem of her skirt inches up her thighs until I can see that fucking gun strapped to her leg. Blood rushes to my dick. She grunts when she finally kicks the guy into the back part of the truck. Something about her and guns and dead bodies just does it for me. I'm a sick fuck, what can I say?
My eyes are glued to that holster on her thigh and I forget to shift gears. The truck lurches, slamming Tor back against the dashboard. She glares at me as I shove it into 3rd.
"Honey, if you could keep your eyes on the road, that'd be great," she smirks, making a slow show of removing the gun from the holster and putting it on the dashboard.
"Stop showing me your shit, and it won't be a problem," I grumble.
She crawls across to the passenger seat on her knees with her ass on show. The tires bump over the shoulder as the truck veers from the road, and she plops down with a scowl as she yanks the dress down and sits.
I drive about ten miles down the road before I pull off to the side. I glance at the back floorboard and groan. "Fuck, just had to go shoving him in the back." He's a fat fuck and hoisting his ass back into the front to shove him out is going to be a pain in the ass.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure if we get pulled over they'll excuse the dead guy just chilling out on the center console."
"Well," I shrug, "you want the arms or legs?" I grin.
She folds her arms over her chest. "No. I am not hauling a dead body out of this truck, Jude."
"Oh yes you are. You can't start something you won't finish, doll. You should know that." I wink at her as I climb into the bunk part of the truck.
"You know, I'm starting to feel like this relationship is really one sided. ‘Seduce the fat man, Tor. Kill the guy, Tor. Haul a fucking body around, Tor.’ "
"I didn't ask you to seduce him or kill him, if you remember, I was actually fucking against it. That's on you. Now get your ass back here and grab his legs."
She turns in the seat to face me. "Fine, but the next time someone needs luring to their death, it's on you. Have fun with that. I hear a lot of the gang bangers are partial to the pretty ones, what with all their prison time."
I shake my head at her. "Now you're just being ridiculous." I bend over and grab his arms, pulling and she's still just fucking sitting there. "Tor!" I shout.
"I'm not dressed for this shit, Jude." She grabs those godawful hooker shoes and yanks them off, throwing them onto the floorboard.
Dropping his arms, I slam my palm over my face on a groan. "You're working my nerves, woman. You really are."
She rolls her eyes and climbs into the back, cursing and bitching under her breath.
"Ready," I grab his wrists again and she takes hold of his ankles.
She glares at me as we lift. I shuffle my way over the console, dragging his body because she's not doing much of shit to help. I'm about to reach for the handle when I hear a long, wet bubbling sound. Tor's eyes widen and she drops his legs, backing across the truck until she's against the bunk, gagging.
"He only just died!" she cries. "How can he smell like death already?" She gags again.
"Trucker diet," I say, laughing. "He may have shit himself, watch it when you grab his legs again." I smile so fucking wide.
"Nope. That's it." She tosses herself onto the front seat faster than I've ever seen her move. Throwing the door open, she practically falls out of the truck, coughing and dry heaving on the side of the road.
"And you call yourself a criminal," I shout out the open door as I manage to drag the fucker's body over to the seat.
"Jude, I was a doctor. I have seen plenty of people shit themselves, but that is just not fucking right. That man was unwell."
I glance around the man's body and out the door at her. "Would you get out of the fucking way, I'm about to drop his ass." She backs up, wiping tears from her eyes, and still gagging. I give him one final shove and he lands face first on the desert ground with a thud. "Get back in the truck."
She glares at me as she grabs onto the handle and hoists herself up the stairs, casting one last disgusted glance at the dead man. Her dress rides back up her damn thighs, underwear on full display. Grumbling, I pull my shirt over my head. She lifts a brow as she shuts the door and climbs over my lap to the seat.
"Dead bodies really do it for you?" She wrinkles her nose, but her eyes fix on my chest.
"No." I shove my shirt over her head and tug it down. "Cover your shit up."
She lifts the shirt and sniffs it. "This smells of dead man's shit and your sweat, Jude."
"I don't give a shit what it smells like, I don't want anyone else seeing your ass."
A small smirk pulls at her lips. "Not even you?"
"There is a dead body beside the truck, Tor, don't tempt me..."
"Okay, fine." She sits back in the passenger seat. "Shouldn't we check that we have the money before we go?"
"Again, Tor, there is a dead ma
n in the sand outside the door of the truck." I shove the gear into drive and pull off as she huffs.
Once we reach El Paso, I pull over at an abandoned gas station where another 18-wheeler is waiting for us. Tor glances at me. "So, I guess we have to move whatever is in the back of this truck into that one?" She rolls her eyes. "Great. More lifting."
"Stop your bitching." I shove the door open and hop out, eyeing the idle truck. The door to the cab swings open and a man in a black suit slowly lowers himself to the ground. He approaches us and stops a few feet away. My eyes fall to his pointed alligator shoes.
"I am Gustavo." His brow wrinkles as he stares at my bare chest. "Do you need a shirt?"
"I'm fine."
He shrugs and heads toward the back of the truck.
"I half expected to him to be wearing a mask or something," Tor mumbles.
He snaps his fingers and I bristle. He takes some tool from his pocket and, with one swift movement, pops the trailer open. The doors groan as they slowly part. I step around the metal door and a waft of cold air hits me, a fine mist rolling out into the desert heat. Gustavo hoist himself up into the back of the truck.
"What the fuck is this?" I ask, peering in at stacks of frozen...sharks.
Tor peers around me. "Oh my god. I killed the wrong guy."
I'm confused as shit right now. "That's fucking sharks..." I say, pointing at the load of carcasses.
"Yes, very good, gringo. Sharks." He laughs as he walks up and down the row of fish. He stops and pulls a knife from his pocket, jabbing the blade into one of the shark’s abdomen and cutting a clean line down it before he shoves his hand inside.
"Oh, that's gross," Tor says.
"Really? That is gross?" I whisper.
"He just went elbow deep inside a shark. No one should be elbow deep in anything dead or alive."
Gustavo pulls out a plastic bag full of money. "Si, sharks." He grins wide as he heads back to the exit and hops down. He tosses the bag to me and I catch it. It's cold and slimy. Tor snarls her lips at it.
War (Wrong Book 4) Page 15