Page 72 of Lust

With the sun almost set, any chance at scoping the place out, like the guys originally planned, is gone, and we have to go in almost blind.

Blake and Roman climb from the car, and I follow. My breath is trapped in my lungs at the chilly air. Reaching back inside the car, I grab my jumper and throw it on. As I go to close the door, a hand grips it, stopping me. Roman raises a finger to his lips, then gently pushes the door until it clicks closed.

I walk a couple of paces forward, squinting at the large silhouette of the house up ahead, as Roman and Blake grab things from the boot. There are no lights on in the main house, but there is a dim flicker in one of the outbuildings to the right.

The soft crunch of footsteps behind me has me swivelling my head to see Roman and Blake approaching.

“You know the drill,” Roman whispers, holding out a vest for me to put on.

I quickly put it on. If nothing else, it will keep me warm.

“You ever used a gun, Syd,” Blake says close to my ear.

My head snaps back and I pin him withawhat do you thinkglare. “And I don’t want one either,” I whisper firmly.

They exchange looks, both sighing in resignation.

“I’ll stay close, and I won’t go off on my own. I’m not stupid.”

Roman moves in front of me, and Blake steps in behind me. When Roman glances over his shoulder, we move forward. Every sound is heightened as we make our way down the dirt road; the crunch of a stone, snap of a twig, even our breath betrays us.

“There’s a light on in the building to the right,” I whisper as we reach a fork in the road.

“Son of a bitch is leading us right where he wants us,” Roman grits out and takes the right turn.

The cold I felt earlier is suddenly replaced with heat as we draw closer to what I can now see is a large barn. Nervous energy swims through me, and my arms and legs tremble. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow, swirling my tongue around my mouth and lips, trying to wet them, but it does absolutely nothing.

When we near the barn door, Roman holds his hand up, and we stop. He takes another couple of steps forward, turning his head to listen at the door.

Stepping back, he shakes his head. I don’t know what that means, but before any of us do or say anything, there’s a piercing scream from inside the barn.

“Why don’t you join us, Sydney and Roman and Blake,” JC calls out. “We wouldn’t want sweet little Hannah here to pass out and miss all the fun before we’ve even started, would we?”

I fight the need to barge in there and save that poor girl, to take her place.

“Daddy’s here too, Sydney. Or should I call you Summer? I actually prefer the name Summer. Anyway, don’t you want to see your precious father, the almighty and righteous Reverend Amos Kincaid.” The venom in his words is unmistakable. And to prove he isn’t lying, another cry shatters the silent night.

This time I can’t help the shout that flies from me. “Pa! Pa, are you okay?”

Roman spins, covering my mouth with his hand. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers angrily.

My wide eyes bore into his, apologetic and pleadingly. His soften in understanding, but when the barn doors swing open a second later, his hand vanishes and he turns, aiming his gun at the man standing just inside the barn.

He’s not alone. Pa is there, his face even more battered and bruised, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. JC is holding a knife to his neck, and I can just make out a small trickle of blood running down his torso.

I whimper, my legs turning to jelly beneath me, and I almost tumble to the ground. Blake’s arm circles my waist, holding me up with one arm while the other is pointed at JC.

“Now, now, gentlemen, put those away. Better yet, toss them over here. Such hostility, and I’ve no idea why.”

“The fuck you don’t!” Roman shouts, and I can feel the anger rolling off him.

“Ooh, I’m going to enjoy watering down that fire, Roman Stone.” JC winks as a smirk grows wide on his face. “Toss the fucking guns before I get ahead of myself and stab this cunt in the neck.” And to show he means it, he pierces Pa’s neck again, causing him to grimace.

Roman and Blake both toss their weapons aside as Blake whispers to me, “It’ll be okay. We’ve got you.”

“Wonderful,” JC exclaims gleefully, and if he wasn’t holding a knife to Pa’s throat, he’d be clapping. “Now, hands up in the air, let me see those fingers wriggling.”

Blake slowly removes his arm from around my waist, raising both hands above his head, as Roman and I do the same. “Shall we,” he says, moving to the side in invitation.

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