Page 53 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“We’ll take her out to the lake and party like there is no tomorrow,” he giggled. “I’ve been wanting to fuck her for so long.”
“I thought she was your girlfriend, and she dumped you for some chick. Then she was begging for you to take her back because she missed your big dick,” a gravelly voice said.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna teach her a lesson. Nobody messes with me.”
His big dick? Ugh. The man needed glasses.
“We need to stop for more beer,” gravelly voice said.
Another voice added, “And some chips.”
Damn. There were at least three men, and they were probably armed. I’d make my move when they stopped for beer.
Someone prodded me with his foot. “Should we tie her up?”
I held my breath. The feeling was returning to my arms and legs. I just needed a few more minutes.
“Nah, there are three of us,” Roger said. “She can’t get away. By the time we’re through with her, she’ll do anything we want to stop the pain.”
In their dreams. I couldn’t wait to unleash Armageddon on their asses. Talk about a bunch of idiots. The smug bastards knew I was a cop but none of them had searched me. They hadn’t even taken my cellphone. Why weren’t they on death row already? I knew I wasn’t the first female they had kidnapped.
A cellphone rang.
“Fuck! It’s that lawyer,” Roger groused.
The gravelly voice interjected, “Put it on speaker, I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Why? He’s not running things.” Roger snarled, “What do you want, Jim Bob?”
“I gave you explicit instructions on where to find the woman, how to booby-trap the motor home and where to bring her. I’m still waiting,” The deadly venom in Jim Bob’s voice made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“When we’re done with her, we’ll bring her to you.”
Jim Bob snapped, “If the plan is to work, I need her alive and unharmed.”
“Fuck off.” Roger chucked his phone out the window.
“Hey! He was gonna pay us five hundred bucks for her,” gravelly voice whined.
Roger laughed maniacally. “Raul wants us to kill him. He knows too much.”
A cold horror filled me. Raul? Was he talking about Papa Garza? Was my grandfather behind all of this? Was his senile act nothing more than a distraction? God, it made so much sense. He wanted his revenge, but where was he getting the money from? The Martins? Or someone else?
A big hand squeezed my right breast painfully. “Let’s get her pants off and we can start playing with her.”
“Welcome to hell.” I broke the vial. The first thing I noticed was the sulfur smell. It was quickly followed by the stench of a road-killed skunk, then the rotting flesh of a long-dead corpse. I gagged. Oh, my, God. This was beyond awful.
“What the fuck?” Roger croaked, reaching for his gun.
I spewed my burger and fries all over him.
“Stop the car! Stop the car!” Roger shrieked, brushing wildly at the vomit coating his clothes.
The van skidded, hit the median and came to an abrupt halt against the traffic light. My captors bailed out. Horns honking, cars swerved in all directions to keep from hitting the projectile vomiting men.
In the distance sirens sounded.
Yay, the cavalry was coming. My muscles still spasming, I drew my weapon and climbed slowly out of the car. Watching them vomit over and over again brought a smile to my face. Karma was a bitch. Huh? Why wasn’t I puking like that? Didn’t know. Didn’t care.
