“Sure,” she replies, her lips tight as she turns to look at Jake as he returns with the rope.
“Jackson!” Lennox calls through the gap.
Jackson ignores him and instead beckons to Tom and Kane. He points up to the metal frame of the station’s awning. “Use that,” he instructs. “Just loop it across. We’ll hold it from the other side.”
Baxter tugs at Jackson’s grip.
“Trina, hog him.”
She doesn’t question his order, and instead bends to tie the rope around Baxter’s ankles. Good. She knows not to disobey. He won’t be challenged in front of the others.
The rope hangs over the steel bar. The shouting from the other side of the burning cars intensifies as a chair is brought out and stood where the rope dangles. Jackson ignores the bellowing men and concentrates on the task in hand. If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. That’s what his dad had always said and it was true. He’d make this a spectacle worth watching—they’d think twice before challenging him again.
“Cover him,” he says in dour tones. He could do this, but seeing the man’s terrified eyes … well, that was something else. He didn’t want them to haunt his dreams—they were bad enough already.
A bag is slipped over Baxter’s head. The thin plastic sucks in and out with his gasps—fills with air as he shouts, sucks back deeper inside his mouth each time he tries to breathe. If he didn’t hurry, the man would suffocate and all the drama of the occasion would be lost. Jackson slips the rope over the struggling, suffocating man’s head and nods for Jake and Tom to pull on the other end. The rope tightens—nice and neat.
“Get him up,” he instructs.
Kane and Trina step forward, grasp Baxter’s legs and stand him on the chair whilst the tension on the rope keeps his head high.
“Bit more!” he calls to Kane.
The noose tightens as the rope is again pulled taut.
The shouts from the other side of the barricade are explosive. He raises his right arm then checks through the gap once again. The flames are dying and, as he turns back to check on Baxter, he sees a figure jump through the flames and onto the courtyard.
“Now!” he shouts and slaps a hand to his thigh.
Jake and Tom yank on the rope whilst Kane kicks at the chair. Baxter hangs, his face opaque beneath the plastic, a deep hollow of white with red swirls where his mouth should be.
Derek charges at the figure jumping through the flames, crowbar in hand as Jackson watches Baxter buck and struggle, his whole body an agony of dance. A clang of metal sounds behind and he turns to watch as Deacon clambers up the automatic carwash and jumps back into the gardens he’d appeared from. Hah! There was another one without stomach for it. Another one who would know not to cross him. Jackson liked Deacon though, and there was potential there for an alliance, friendship even. He’d pay him a visit up at the pub once the dust had settled.
Chapter 21
Moonlight filters in through the window, casting silver over Finn’s quiet face, as Lina smooths stray hairs from her brow. The light glints and dances on the coins that cover her eyes. Kissing her own fingers, Lina touches them to Finn’s lips, then pulls up the sheet. With her friend’s face lost beneath the cotton, Lina turns away, and stares out above the cluster of rooftops to the sky with its sharp specks of light. She sits beside Finn until the chill in the room becomes unbearable, then walks to her own room where she lays on her bed and listens for the click of the latch downstairs.
Chapter 22
THREE YEARS AFTER BREAKOUT: THE FINAL JOURNEY
Saskia looks down to the brown river running far beneath and her toes curl. How long will it be before the bridge collapses? A hundred years? Three hundred? The tarmac was already rotting and, even this high up, seeds had embedded themselves within the grit, whilst the yellow heads and green leaves of dandelions were breaking through the road’s surface. She rolls her shoulders and winces in pain.
“You all right, Sis?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “Just hurts where I fell yesterday, that’s all.”
“Oh? You sure?”
“Course I’m sure,” she lies ignoring his questioning gaze. “Just keep your eyes on the road and get us off this bridge.”
“Hah! You still scared of going across it then?”
“No!”
Loz shuffles next to her. The stink of his breath is sickening. Not having dentists was a real drawback! She opens the window a fraction, and air fills the cab. Once they were on dry land again she’d open it fully and let the fresh air circulate. Perhaps Lennox could ‘persuade’ Loz to have his teeth pulled—someone was going to have to sort it and if Loz wouldn’t listen to reason, then she’d have to take direct action.
The van lurches as it hits one of the widening potholes in the road and a muffled shout comes from the back of the van. Irritation waves over her. It was always the same. They whinged until they realised that all the crying and screaming was pointless then they settled. At least now she had it sorted; it all worked like clockwork—they came in, they went out.
She looks out to the horizon. The sun was still high in the sky but beginning its downward journey.
“Step on it, Sergei.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Durham’s arranged to come and take a look at our stock. I want to make sure it’s all ready for him to check over so we can get the best deal.”
The van powers forward and she sits back to relax against the seat and winces again at the pain in her shoulder and her chest tightens as she thinks of home.
Ten minutes later the van stops outside the wide metal gates of the farm, Loz gets out, opens it and Sergei drives through with the door still open leaving Loz to run and jump in.
“Bloody hell, Sergei! Hang on.”
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Just my way of getting through the day.”
“Bloody arse!”
“Hah!
Loz jumps back in the van and slams the door shut, knocking against Saskia.
“Sorry!” he apologises then pulls himself straight, keeping a distance between them.
This was the absolute last time she’d put up with his stench in the van—he’d have to get his teeth sorted and soon, preferably tonight. She’d talk to Lennox once she got in—perhaps he’d do the honours himself?
The van comes to a rolling halt outside the farmhouse doorway. Across the yard, Lennox steps out from outhouse they’ve rigged up to hold the stock. Saskia watches him closely as he turns to padlock the door. Watches the way his muscles ripple beneath his t-shirt as he grasps for the lock, the exposed skin of his neck browned by the sun, the breadth of his chest as he turns to face them, the white of his teeth between his parted lips as he smiles when their eyes meet. The same ripple of desire as the first time she saw him at the roadside washes over her—only now it is more intense—now she knows what desires he could fulfil. She fidgets, pushing her backside down into the seat as she watches him begin to walk across the yard.
“Get out then,” she chides, impatient to get to Lennox as she waits for Loz to open the door.
“Give me a chance!”
The stench wafts over her again and she irks at his tone. Yep! She’d get Lennox to sort those teeth out later—he wasn’t squeamish and knowing him, he’d probably enjoy seeing Loz suffer.
Loz pushes the lever and the door opens. He jumps down onto the concrete and Saskia shuffles across the seat, grimacing as her backside slides across the warmed patch of vinyl he’d vacated. She watches for a second as he makes his way to the farmhouse door.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” she calls to him with an edge she hopes he recognises.
He turns to face her. “Just going in for a brew,” he shouts back as he passes Lennox, then continues walking to the door.
“Not if you know what’s good for you, you don’t,” she calls. “Get that lot in the back sorted first. Then your lazy arse can have a brew.”
Lennox laughs and Loz grunts in resp
onse but doesn’t ignore her instruction, or - and she smiles - her warning. As she steps down onto the ground, squashing a daisy’s open face beneath her boot, Loz scurries to the back of the van, ducking as he passes her. That’s right! If you don’t shift your arse I’ll give you such a crack! “And make sure they’re quiet. I’ve got a headache.”
“Headache, babe?” Lennox asks as he steps up to meet her.
“Yeah! It’s been a hard day,” she says falling against his chest. He reaches down and kisses her in welcome. “Talia will make you a brew and I’ll give you something to make you forget your headache,” he laughs then pinches her buttock. He holds the flesh between his fingers and squeezes it tight—too tight.
“Ow! That hurts,” she hisses.
“I know,” he smiles. “But not as much as you like it, eh? Just you wait till later—then you’ll know just how hard I can give it to you.”
She laughs. “Sure, babe. I can’t wait,” she returns although she’s not sure if that’s a threat or a promise—you could never tell with Lennox. He was as mean as the day was long. Sure she liked her men with a bit of bite, but him—well she felt like she had a tiger by the tail and he wasn’t submitting to her the way men usually did. Perhaps that’s what excited her about him? Met your match is what her mother would have said, silly cow!
“Durham will be here anytime. He said late afternoon. Have they been cleaned up?”
“How the hell would I know?” she returns with irritation. The day had been long and she was weary. “I’ve only just got back. You were supposed to be sorting that out,” she snaps, irritated at the thought of yet more effort. “I can’t do everything around here—go out to get them and keep them fed, watered and clean. What’s Talia been doing all day-”
Her flow of words stops as Lennox leans in and grabs her chin between steel fingers. His eyes are bright with their intense blue, the pupils tight as he stares at her.
“Shut … your … mouth!”
Saskia pulls at his hand, but it remains a tight clamp around her chin. Excitement begins to fizz.
“Don’t ever speak to me that way,” he reprimands holding her gaze.
He has no idea who he’s dealing with, not really—he can’t do otherwise he wouldn’t treat her like this. He’d get what was coming—same as they all would. “But-”
“Shh! Now listen. You’re going to go to that outhouse and check them over. Take Loz and make sure the product is sound. If there’s a dribble of snot on their noses, or a smudge of dirt on their cheeks, then there’ll be consequences. Got it?”
Saskia continues to stare up at Lennox, her heartbeat steady, her ire only growing alongside the anticipation. He really shouldn’t mess with her. She really wants him to mess with her. Poke the tiger! As she continues to stare, his grip lessens and when the door opens behind them his eyes break from hers. She pulls back her arm, clenches her fist, and swings it with full force against the side of his head. Taken by surprise he staggers back.
“Why you little-”
As he staggers, his hand held to his ear, she swings her leg and kicks his thigh with her boot. He grabs her ankle and she’s trapped, her arms wheeling as he holds her leg high. He stares into her face and lifts her leg higher.
“Now you’ve really got me going.”
“Go on then,” she goads. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Hah!”
With one hand holding her leg, he reaches with the other and grabs her hair before she has a chance to bat his hands away. He swivels her around, pulls at her hair, holding it high.
“You want to see what I’ve got?”
“Yeah!” she retorts standing on tiptoes. The pain in her scalp is intense and she moves forward as he pushes her to the door that leads into the hallway. She knows what’s coming and an ache pulses between her legs as a thrill. One thing about Lennox, he met her with fire and set her alight.
“Come on then,” he whispers as he pushes her forward, his free arm wrapped around her chest, his hand cupping her breast, “and I’ll give you something to remember.”
“Oh, yeah!” she goads thrilling at the excitement of his words. “It’ll have to be good to make me remember … babe.”
“Oh, it will be,” he promises. “It will,” he repeats as he squeezes her breast tight between his fingers.”
“Saskia!”
“She’s busy,” Lennox calls from halfway up the stairs.
“Durham’s here.”
“Damn,” he says and releases his grip from around her chest.
“Let him wait!” she says.
“No! This will have to wait,” he returns as he steps back down the stairs.
She growls in frustration and turns on the stairs and scowls at him.
“Later!” he whispers raising an eyebrow.
The scowl turns into an amused smirk. “Yes,” she returns. “Later,” and follows him down the stairs and out into the yard.
A khaki 4x4 stands on the concrete next to the van and Durham, along with his usual bodyguards-cum-henchmen stands waiting, scrutinizing the surrounding buildings. His face changes very little as Saskia walks towards him. Despite their difference in size, she keeps in step with Lennox; she may be diminutive, but there was no way she’d let Durham think she was second in command.
“We’ve got them ready for you.” She offers her hand by way of greeting and can’t help but notice the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he grasps her hand and pulls it forward. She teeters forwards on her heels and her cheek knocks against his lips as he plants a kiss there.
“Looking lovely as ever.” He smirks as he releases her hand and turns his attention to her partner.
Durham stands a good four inches above Lennox, his chest broader, his hair thicker—younger too by the look of it. If she ever got bored of Lennox, she knew just where she’d turn her attention.
“Huh!” Lennox grunts. “I thought you were here for product.”
“If that’s what you call it, then yeah, I’m here for product,” Durham returns. Confidence oozes off the man and Saskia warms to him.
“This way,” she says with a smile and pulls her shoulders back—business-like with a touch of sexy—at least that’s what she hopes he picks up from her. She swivels on her heels and clacks across the yard, her hips swaying as she leads the men to the outhouse at the end of the row of brick outbuildings that run the length of the farmyard. As she reaches to open the latch, the door pulls open and Loz appears. He frowns as their eyes meet then straightens when he looks beyond her to the men behind.
“They ready?” she asks.
“Yes,” he replies opening the door wide.
Inside are two rows of beds, one against each side of the room. In the middle of the room a group of children and women stand. They shuffle closer as Saskia, Lennox and Durham step in.
“You got any older boys?” Durham asks as he steps past Saskia. “I need some older boys to work in the fields. Women and kids are OK, but boys have got the strength I need—there’s no tractors in the fields to plough up the soil.” The group stands still as he walks forward and Saskia watches as he stands before a young woman of about twenty. “How much for this one,” he says reaching out to stroke her cheek. She pulls back and he laughs. “She’ll do nicely for the house.”
“We can discuss that inside,” Lennox replies. “Loz!” he shouts out through the open door. “Get the keys to the men’s quarters.”
Chapter 23
Deacon turns and knocks into warm flesh. He groans as the headache grips him. The woman lying next to him – he can’t remember her name, doesn’t care to know her name – stretches and lays her arm across his side. His skin feels greasy and he throws her hand from his body as disgust slithers over him. He pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed and looks around.
“Come back to bed, baby,” the woman croons and strokes her hand across his back. “We can go again—won’t cost you no more—I like you.”
Deaco
n leans forward, pulling away from the woman’s touch. She kneels behind him and presses her breasts against his back, sliding her arms across his chest. “Come on,” she cajoles. “We were good together—last night.”
“That was last night,” he says grasping her forearms and pulling them away.
“Huh!”
“I paid you for your time.”
“Oh,” she says and remorse at his sharp tone waves over him. “I thought you liked me,” she wheedles. The remorse vanishes, pushed down along with every other emotion he can lock away.
“Like you?” he says with a touch of spite. “Like a whore?”
“Hey!” she reprimands and tries again, leaning into him and kissing his neck.
He turns and grasps her shoulder, pinching hard enough to make her wince, then pushes her away.
“I’ve paid for your … services. Money’s run out,” he says rising and taking his jeans from the chair next to the bed.
She slumps back in the bed and pulls up the covers to her shoulders and rolls away from him to face the wall. He pulls on his t-shirt and then his jacket and leaves the room without a second glance. She’d be there the next time he felt the urge, either her or another one of the whores that worked here.
He nods to Caville, another of Durham’s crew, as he reaches the bottom of the steps then looks into the kitchen. Durham sits holding a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, a book lays flat on the table before him. A young woman of perhaps twenty stands at the kitchen sink, her hands in the water. Durham nods his greeting as the woman sets a mug on the drainer.
“Coffee?” he asks with a smile.
“Nah.”
“Hair of the dog?” he says gesturing to the bottle of whiskey on the counter.
He shakes his head.
“Ella?” he asks nodding his head towards the woman.
“Another time,” he replies taking in the woman’s form. She turns and, for a second, Finn’s eyes stare at him. He grits his teeth and looks away. “I’m off.”
The Route to Justice: A post-apocalyptic survival thriller (A World Torn Down Book 5) Page 11