The bitch cunt drugged me.
With slow blinks he tried to make sense of what his blurry eyes were showing him. He was naked as the day he was born. Thick leather straps, which dug into his wrists and ankles, bound him to a steel chair that was bolted to the cement floor of a windowless, cement block room approximately eight feet in width and length.
Willie shifted with a wince, the hole in the seat of the chair having made the sections of his ass hanging through it go numb. Leaning over the side as far as he was able to, he could see a large, round metal pot directly under the hole.
This ain’t good, he thought, feeling like he was trying to swallow a mouthful of baby powder. Ain’t good at all.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed another steel chair behind him, facing the opposite direction.
It was empty.
So was the third one he then noticed was next to him.
Craning his neck so he could peer over the high back of his chair, he discovered a fourth and final steel chair diagonal from him.
It was not empty.
“Hey!” The head attached to the fuzzy black hair Willie could see poking up from behind the chair did not move. “Hey, you!”
The steel door suddenly opened and Willie’s heart damn near punched through his chest. The woman, dressed in a red satin robe that was so short it barely covered her ass, sauntered inside.
She was not alone.
Willie’s stomach made a squishy, rumbling sound. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, clenching his ass cheeks as tight as he could. “You fucking cunt bitch.”
The woman winked at him. “So what’s it going to be this morning, baby brother?” she cooed as she slid an arm around the boy’s waist. “White meat or dark?”
Willie’s bowels opened up faster than if he’d drank a gallon of castor oil. The boy standing next to the woman wrinkled his nose as the foul-smelling waste plopped into the bucket underneath Willie. “I think dark,” he replied, giving Willie a wide berth as he walked to the chair behind and diagonal to him. Willie heard a soft gasp and then the boy whisper, “Sorry.”
Making a tsking sound, the woman moved to stand in front of Willie as his anal contractions finally stopped. When she grinned, revealing two very long, very pointy looking teeth, they started again. She arched a brow. “Can’t hold your liquor or your shit, can you, Super Trucker?”
Fear stormed in to crush the rage he’d felt only moments ago. I’m gonna die here, Willie thought, and then screamed as the woman lunged.
Chapter 31
Standing outside the cafeteria doors, Lacey gave everyone who wasn’t a jock or cheerleader a once over as they walked in.
Sammy strolled over with a lopsided grin. “Waiting for me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Help me pick out a few others.”
“Few other what?”
“People, what do you think?”
Without asking why, Sammy moved to stand beside her.
Within a few minutes they had added three more to their group: Jeremiah was as round as he was tall and always had a book in his hands (today’s selection was The Google Story); Kathy had so many freckles one couldn’t look at her without playing a mental game of connect-the-dots; and Matt, who resembled Ralph Macchio so much that Lacey had to stifle the urge to ask him where Mr. Miyagi was.
“Night Elf,” he said as he looked Lacey up and down. “Druid, most definitely.”
Lacey raised an eyebrow at him. “Should I know what that means?”
Matt’s mouth went slack. He looked expectantly at Sammy who shook his head, and then at Kathy who smiled proudly.
“I’m a Blood Elf Warlock!”
Matt thrust his arm into the air. “For the Horde!”
“World of Warcraft,” Jeremiah volunteered from behind his book. “It’s a MMORPG—massively multi-player online role playing game. An estimated twelve million subscribers.”
“As fascinating as that is, we have more important things to discuss.” Lacey cleared her throat. “Who wants to eat on the inside today?”
Jeremiah lowered his book to reveal furrowed brows. “I don’t think so.”
“Not a good idea,” Kathy said, shaking her head.
Matt held up his hands. “I prefer virtual fighting.”
When Lacey looked at Sammy, he shrugged. “Why the heck not?”
“Um, because they’ll tear us apart?” Kathy offered.
“Look—if we band together, we can show them that they do not rule the school,” she said.
Jeremiah snapped his book shut. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He walked away.
Kathy gave Lacey an apologetic look before scurrying off in the opposite direction. Taking off after her, Matt yelled, “Hey, Blood Elf—you in a guild?”
“I think you made a love connection,” Sammy told Lacey as Matt caught up with Kathy and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Those kids are gonna be World of Warcrafting all night.”
“So instead of making a stand they’re going to make more cowards,” Lacey grumbled.
Sammy hissed as he raked the air with his hands. “Meow!”
Lacey exhaled sharply. She couldn’t care less if Jeremiah, Kathy and Matt chose to be doormats for the rest of their life, so why the hell was she so damn pissed off? PMS? The ravenous hunger from not eating since lunch yesterday? The fatigue from spending the night tossing and turning because of The Dream Invader? Having to resort to socializing so she would stop thinking about the jackass?
“I need food,” Lacey grumbled, heading into the cafeteria.
Sammy eagerly followed her inside but seemed reluctant to join her at the end of the lunch line. Figuring she may not be the only one in the world that was short on cash, Lacey said, “My treat.”
“Oh that’s okay—I got plenty of money.”
Must be nice, she thought, and then said, “I insist.”
Sammy crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t eat unless you let me buy.”
“That’s a little childish, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “Whatever works.”
Less than a minute later, trays in hand, they sat down opposite each other at the last table on the right side of the room. Grinning, Lacey waved at the group of jocks and cheerleaders jammed together at the front of the cafeteria, who couldn’t have looked more disgusted if they’d discovered cockroaches floating in their broccoli soup.
Sammy chuckled as Lacey’s gaze drifted to the table next to them. Clark was in the same spot as the day before, in the same slumped position, once again staring at his red cell phone. “Still pining over Heather I see,” she mumbled, then popped a tater tot into her mouth.
Sammy stabbed a peach wedge, sniffed it, wrinkled his nose. “Why? Did they break up or something?”
“You haven’t heard? Heather moved to California.”
Sammy’s hand jerked. The peach wedge hit his tray with a squishy plop. “California? When?”
Looking at Clark, Lacey whispered, “Six days ago.”
The clang of a fork hitting the table made her snap her gaze back to Sammy, whose eyes were wide and bulging. “Why did her family move?”
“They didn’t.”
“But you just said—”
“I said Heather moved,” Lacey interrupted.
“By herself?”
Lacey nodded, then slurped up a couple spoonfuls of soup.
“Why?”
“The rumor is...” Lacey’s voice trailed off into a sigh as she dropped her head and closed her eyes. As if socializing isn’t bad enough, I’m also gossiping.
“What?” Sammy asked, leaning forward. “The rumor is what?”
Fuck it, Lacey thought, taking a deep breath. “That she took off to Los Angeles to become an actress slash model.”
Sammy swallowed so hard his throat clicked. “Who told you this?”
“Brooke and Kimberly. They tag teamed me, claiming to want to be friends.” Lacey snorted. “I thought it was a set-up�
��still kind of do, actually. They’ve avoided me ever since, which I find really suspicious.”
“A set-up? Why would they do that?”
“The night Heather left town, she ran into me—and I mean that literally, damn near knocked my shoulder out of its socket—at Burger King. We had some words and then she left with...”
Son. Of. A. Bitch. Now I’m back to thinking about him again.
Sammy rapped his knuckles against the table. “Who? She left with who?”
“Some guy.”
“What did he look like?”
“Hell if I know! I barely got a look at him, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” Sammy said, placing his hand on the back of hers. “I’m sorry—”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be if you don’t stop touching me right fucking now,” she snarled.
Sammy’s hands flew up as if she was pointing a gun at him. “S-Sorry! Sorry...it won’t happen again!”
“See that it doesn’t.”
“I will! I promise!”
Lacey speared a peach wedge with her fork. Jammed the juicy piece of fruit into her mouth. Chewed hard and fast as she returned her gaze to Clark just as he picked up his cell. His fingers flew over the keypad as he text messaged someone. When he finished he tossed the phone on the table and then leaned back with a grunt.
A couple seconds later the screen lit up. He grabbed it, read what was on it, scowled. Muttering something under his breath, he stood up, kicking the chair with the heel of his foot and sending it flying across the room before storming out of the cafeteria.
Christ, just give up already, Lacey thought, stabbing a tater tot. She doesn’t want you anymore.
Men were so damn stupid.
Lacey looked up to find Sammy using his knife like a pool stick to shoot a pea from one end of the tray to the other. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to play with your food?” she grumbled.
Sammy’s face looked like it was melting as the corners of his eyes and mouth turned down. “My mom died when I was seven and my dad left right after so they didn’t get to teach me much of anything.”
Lacey couldn’t have felt smaller if she’d been alone in a room full of giants. “Oh, hell—I’m sorry.”
Sammy shrugged, but his glistening gaze and trembling bottom lip told her he felt anything but indifferent. Looking down at the table, he quickly swiped the backs of his hands over his eyes.
Way to go, dumb ass.
“My mother hauled ass right before my thirteenth birthday because she couldn’t stand to be with my dad and me,” she blurted out of guilt, and then gasped in horror.
No. No, no, no!
Lacey sprang out of the chair, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it hurt. She bolted toward the cafeteria door like a racehorse upon the raising of its gate, not stopping until she’d reached her locker and only then long enough to grab her purse from it.
She was half-way home when the sky, which was the color of a Great White shark, opened up, and by the time she stepped into the foyer there wasn’t a dry spot on her.
Lacey stripped off her clothes as sheets of rain and gusts of wind pummeled the dark, musty house. She stuffed them into the beat-up yellow washing machine in the small enclosed porch turned laundry room located at the back of the house, then ran upstairs to grab a towel from the bathroom.
Once dry and dressed in her flannel pajamas, Lacey picked up Casper and then returned to the kitchen to make the chicken and macaroni and cheese Clint had brought home several days ago. Out of anger she’d refused to touch them, but after what had happened at school she needed comfort food more than her stinkin’ pride.
“I like him,” she whispered, the dam holding back the tears she’d been fighting ever since she left the cafeteria breaking as she snuggled the kitten’s fuzzy head. “I fucking like him.”
With a loud sniffle, Lacey put Casper down on the floor. “We’re gonna have a yummy dinner,” she said as the kitten took off to explore. “Just the two of us.”
After putting the frozen chicken into the oven and making a pot of coffee, Lacey sat down at the table and sipped the hot beverage to take the edge off the damp chill in the house.
The world beyond the rain splattered window was soggy, dark and dreary. The thunder and lightening sounded like a bowling ball rolling down the aisle and then crashing into pins. Around the trees hung a smoky white mist, which made her think of the boy who’d somehow managed to creep past her defenses.
Lacey was pulling the chicken out of the oven when the lights flickered. She managed to set the baking pan on the counter before the electricity went out. “Guess we’ll have the Velveeta another night,” she told Casper as the kitten weaved in and out of her legs. “Smells pretty good, huh?”
Squinting, Lacey shuffled through the fuzzy grayness to grab two plates and a fork. She tore the meat off one chicken leg, put it on the small plate, then cut off a large section of breast meat and put it on the large plate. She carried both to the table and then sat Casper in front of his.
They gobbled up the surprisingly moist chicken—she wasn’t Betty Crocker by a long shot—in record time.
After they each had two more helpings and Lacey stuffed the leftovers into a plastic container, they retired to her room. With the electricity still out and nothing else to do they curled up in bed, eventually being lulled to sleep by the steady pelting of rain against the roof.
Chapter 32
Her delicate scent. Inviting warmth. Tantalizing softness. He could remember only how good each had felt, and it created an ache within him that was not physical but mental. He knew that would change, however, in her presence, and he yearned to experience it again, to breathe her in, wrap himself around her, bury himself deep inside her.
The witch’s spell is upon you. It is not real.
“A witch you say?” Zane laughed long and deep. “And it felt pretty goddamn real to me, Blodbad, let me tell you.”
She is a powerful sorceress whose only desire is to destroy you. Your will is weak, you will not be able to resist. You must flee this place at once, before it is too late.
“You know,” Zane said, grinning, “with your imagination we could write horror novels that would outsell Stephen King.”
This situation is anything but humorous, my child. Your life is in grave danger. You must heed my warning—
Zane put up a mental block when he heard the door open, which also opened his eyes. He remained stretched out on the bed with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands clasped behind his head. “Afternoon, Samuel.”
His brother’s brows furrowed when his eyes met Zane’s. “What are you doing in my room?”
Zane flicked his gaze between the two windows being pelted by raindrops the size of blood droplets. “You really should have a car, Samuel. A bike in this weather—”
“We both know if I wrecked it wouldn’t hurt me,” his brother said as he tossed his backpack on the floor.”
“You always have been blind to the bigger picture, Samuel.” Zane expelled a long breath as he sat up. “Would it not raise suspicions if you were to walk away unscathed from a crash that should have taken your life?”
Samuel grabbed a shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor, used it to towel-dry his dripping wet hair. “I don’t want a car,” he said, kicking off his boots. “And I don’t want company.”
Zane cocked his head to one side as he stood up. “Bad day, brother?”
Samuel peeled off his socks, tossed them and the shirt on the floor. “I need a shower,” he said in a hoarse voice as he turned toward the door.
“Samuel.” With a deep sigh his brother glanced over his shoulder. It was only then Zane noticed the red-tinged tears in the boy’s eyes. “Something happened today.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Then why are you on the verge of crying?”
When his brother did not answer, Zane took a step closer. “You can talk to me, Samuel.”
His mouth
opened, but he did not speak, a deep crease forming across his forehead as his gaze left Zane’s for a spot on the floor. He shook his head, slapped his hands over his face as a loud sob burst out. “I...I did or s-said s-something wrong,” he stuttered, “b-but I don’t know what it w-was.”
Zane moved swiftly across the room to stand in front of his brother. He put both hands on Samuel’s shoulders, guided him over to the bed, gently pushed him down on it. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Samuel’s hands dropped onto his lap as he shook his head again, his expression one of confusion and fear. “We ate lunch together and was just talking.”
“About?”
“Ken and Barbie—I mean Heather and Clark.”
Zane’s heart picked up speed. He cleared his throat. “What about them?”
Samuel took a deep breath, released it fast. “Lacey told me that Heather and Clark broke up. That she saw Heather the night she left for California. That they argued and then Heather left with some guy. And then—”
“Who?”
Samuel blinked. “Huh?”
“With whom did Heather leave?”
“I don’t know. Just some guy, Lacey said.”
“Just some guy.”
“Yeah.”
“Go on,” Zane bit out through clenched teeth.
Samuel leaned forward, his brows furrowing. “You okay?”
“Fine. Go on.”
“You don’t look—”
“I am feeling a bit peckish is all,” Zane said, forcing a smile. “Please, go on.”
“And then I put my hand—” Samuel’s eyes widened. “That’s it! That’s what I did wrong!” The corners of his mouth curled down. “No, no—I said I was sorry and she seemed to accept my apology.” He scratched his head. “And then I was playing with my food and she said...and then I said...and then she said—”
“Samuel, I am not a goddamn mind reader.”
With rapid blinks his brother reared back. “Maybe you better go get something to drink.”
“Not until you finish.”
Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) Page 22
