Page 76 of The Twins
“Ah, you’re awake. I see the nice little shot I gave you is wearing off.”
“Leave me alone,” I managed, my voice croaky.
“Not a chance.” He stepped in and undid the buckle on his jeans. “And it’s good that you’re talking, that you’re compos fucking mentis because that means you’ll truly experience the hard-ass fucking I’m gonna give you.” He whipped his belt fromthe loops of his jeans and tossed it aside. It landed near the pitchfork. “I’m gonna give it to you so good, fuck you up the ass the way you shafted me in that courtroom. You didn’t even try to persuade the jury to let me off. You just strutted around, swaying your fat fucking ass and fluttering your eyelashes.”
“That’s not true.” I lolled to the right. If I could just reach the pitchfork.
“Oh no, you’re going nowhere, Little Miss Bitch, and I can tell you now, you won’t be leaving this stable alive, but you will be leaving it well and truly fucked up.”
My heart stuttered. The fear coursing through me was palpable, alive, another living, breathing thing that had possessed me.
“You’ll never get away with this,” I said, the words grating over my tongue. “People will be looking for me, the police will be here soon.”
“I don’t think so.” Roughly, he flipped me over so my face was pressed into the prickly straw.
I tried to wriggle away, but he grabbed me around the waist and yanked down my trousers to expose my ass.
* * * *
Cillian
“Which farm first?” Jamie asked from behind the steering wheel.
“Mitch say anything else about the area?” I asked. “When we went to get the phone.”
“Only crime reported of late was a trailer getting nicked from Over Acre Farm, a mile away.”
“So peaceful then.”
“Yeah.” Finn pointed forward. “Let’s try this big one, with the cattle sign on the gate.”
Jamie crept along. The driveway was half tarmac and half gravelly potholes. I gripped the seat and stared out at the horizon. She was here somewhere. I could sense it. It was a tug in my guts, a magnetic thread drawing me to her.
I glanced at Finn. He could sense it, too, I was sure.
As we got closer to the cluster of farm buildings, two black-and-white boarder collies raced toward us, circling the vehicle and yapping.
“Little fuckers better not scratch it,” Jamie muttered.
We passed a dirty green tractor, a trailer with a flat back tire, and a barn full of cows with their calves.
“There, the farmer.” Dalton pointed ahead.
Sure enough, leaning on a stick, a gentleman was staring our way.
Jamie pulled to a halt.
“Leave this to us,” Finn said. “Don’t want to overwhelm him.”
“Fair enough.” Phil nodded. He knew his size could be intimidating.
We stepped out and the dogs surrounded us, sniffing and nudging our legs.
The farmer eyed us suspiciously.
“Hey,” Finn said. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”
“You haven’t yet.” He touched a sun-bleached purple baseball cap that was shielding his face from the sun.
