Page 18 of Locke

The car beeped and suddenly the trunk popped open. The rain hit me all over again, wracking my body with shivers as a suited, fat man hovered over me. His beady eyes took me in before he smiled lewdly. “Oh, she’s beautiful, Mr Smith. I like them dark and scared and dressed like little whores.”

Ew, what the fuck?

I looked disgustingly at him, but I knew better than to talk. Like my work boss, this guy gave me the creeps straight off the bat.

“Are you offering a trade?” he asked Locke now, his eyes never leaving me. “I love these little tramps, but you can’t beat a boy, Mr Smith.”

Trade? Locke was going to trade me? And here I thought my magic pussy was worth kidnapping for the sake of his own sadistic pleasure.

“I’m keeping her for myself,” Locke said, and what the fuck, but that relieved me. “And I know about your little boys, Pearson. I know what you like.”

The man chuckled above me, and something about it didn’t sit right. I knew this man was the stuff of nightmares when he said, “How far into my inner circle are you to know such a thing, Mr Smith?”

“Enough to know you like them broken and weeping,” Locke ominously said behind him. I couldn’t see him from where I was spread out, sprinkled by the rain and this man’s awful stare. “I know that when they hurt, it gives you the most pleasure.”

The man made a thoughtful sound, his eyes glazing back. Right now he looked like a fucking demon, like he wasn’t staring at me anymore but thinking of something far more sinister. “Ah, yes, then you have spoken to my inner circle. This meeting makes sense now. Calling me out to Blackwater—did you know I came here a time or two, Mr Smith?”

There was a smile in Locke’s voice when he answered, “I do. In fact, I’m surprised you don’t recognize where we are right now.”

Now he looked away from me and scanned our surroundings. I was sort of interested enough to know too. I poked my head out, but the darkness was overwhelming. There was nothing but fields and forest and the eerie silhouette of an abandoned house.

I slowly looked away, peering up at this nasty, suited fuck, knowing that something very significant was supposed to happen next. His reaction was strange. His brows came together, and he appeared thoughtful now before murmuring, “Who exactly have you been speaking to?”

“Very recently I made very pleasurable contact with Ronaldo.”

Now the man’s eyes narrowed. “He talked to you about this place? You shouldn’t listen to everything you hear from him, Mr Smith. We don’t operate from here any longer and haven’t for many years.”

“I didn’t hear anything from him,” Locke replied, “save for his pleas not to end his life.”

The man’s eyes bulged, and he spun around to look at Locke. “What did you say?”

I heard Locke’s steps approach, but this giant creep was in my way, and I couldn’t see him. And while this was very interesting in a morbid sort of way, they were both very preoccupied with one another because shit was going to go down, which meant I could get the fuck out and make a run for it.

“You heard me,” Locke murmured next, his voice growing darker. “He pled for his life, and you know what I said to him? I said nothing, Mr Pearson, as I fed him my bullets.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The man’s voice was panicked now. “You know what, I don’t give a fuck. Stay away from me, and if you think you’re going to shoot me and make me plead—"

“I’m not going to shoot you,” Locke retorted. “I’m going to let you have the first swing with that knife I know you carry. You like to carve it into little boys, don’t you, motherfucker?”

Panting, I made to climb out of the side of the trunk, but the sudden scuffle that broke out made me yelp when the suited man stepped back, brushing against the trunk and making it rock. I fell face first into the ground. My dress rode up so high, half my ass was hanging out. I jumped to my feet, my ankles twisting awkwardly before I glanced behind me quickly.

They were wrestling on the ground, and the suited man was swinging something into the air. Maybe a knife, maybe a gun—I didn’t stick around to find out. I tore my heels off my feet and ran for my fucking life in the opposite direction.

Seven

Kali

I was in the middle of nowhere. The roads were endless and empty, the dilapidated structures around me vacant and abandoned. If we were still in Blackwater, we must have been on the outskirts.

I was never a runner because fuck that shit, it hurt. But I ran until my lungs ached and my sides cramped, and I pushed on through regardless. I ran until my heart felt like it was going to give out, and that was when I knew I needed to slow down. My feet were chafed as I slowed to a fast walk, panting into the cold. The rain hadn’t let up, and the night sky was cloudy, starless, the moon hidden. My hair was all around me, in my face, down my back. I might die of hyperthermia before I even made it to civilization.

Where the fuck was everyone?

Then I heard the sound of an engine in the distance coming in the opposite direction. My heart jumped as I made the outline of an old red pick-up truck. I waved my hands in the air, racing toward it. It came to a sudden stop in front of me. “You alright, miss?” the old driver asked.

I shook my head. “No, I—I need a ride.”

The old man looked around, appearing cautious. “Where did you come from?”

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