“They’re just over-the-counter muscle relaxants. He should be fine. He’ll just have a really good sleep.”
“An’ really good dreams,” Hellhound snorted. “Lucky bastard. Well, darlin’, guess we better get goin’. Lemme go get my pants.”
He turned to go, and I stopped him with an outstretched hand. “Same logic applies as last time. I really don’t want to attract attention.”
He frowned at me. “Well, Dave’s outta the picture.”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll just go by myself.”
“No.”
We eyed each other for a few moments, and I could tell I was going to have to come up with an alternative.
“Could Weasel come with me?” I suggested finally. “You trust him, right?”
Arnie’s scowl darkened. “I trust him not to rat us out. That’s it. I ain’t sendin’ ya anywhere with him.”
“Well, it’s him or nothing.” I gave him my best don’t-mess-with-me face.
He blew out an irritable breath. “Weasel’s slime. He’s got some kinky tastes, an’ he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. He just finished doin’ time for sexual assault.”
I turned to stare in Weasel’s direction, revulsion crawling over my skin. “He’s a rapist?”
“Nah. He just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself, an’ it got him in trouble.”
I blew out a breath of relief. “Well, that’s no big deal, then. I can deal with roaming hands.”
Arnie frowned down at me. “Darlin’, I know ya can take care of yourself, but-”
“Look,” I interrupted. “I need to get going. I don’t know how long Spider will stay online tonight. You decide whether you want me to go by myself or take Weasel, but I’m leaving now.”
He scowled and said nothing. I was turning away when he bellowed, “Weasel!”
“Yeah.” Weasel’s head popped up from the other side of the car.
“Need ya to do somethin’.”
“What, like drinking all my goddamn beer isn’t enough?” Weasel complained. “Come on, man, what do you think, I’m made of money or something?”
Hellhound shot him a hard glance. “Yeah. That’s what I think. An’ I know a coupla people that’d be interested in findin’ out how ya get it.”
“Aw, come on, man,” Weasel whined. “Lighten up. I was just yanking your crank.”
“Like I’d let ya touch my crank,” Hellhound retorted. “Not. Get over here.”
“Jeez,” Weasel griped as he came around the car. “What got up your ass? What do you want?”
“You’re gonna take Ay… Jane wherever she wants to go tonight. You’re gonna watch her back the whole time. You’re gonna keep your filthy fuckin’ hands to yourself. An’ you’re gonna bring her back here, nice an’ safe an’ sound. Got it?”
Weasel eyed the half-stripped LeSabre before turning back to Hellhound. “How long is this gonna take?” he muttered. “I got work to do.”
“An hour; hour and a half, tops,” I said.
Weasel tossed his wrench onto the floor with a clatter. “Fine.” He shot a contemptuous glance at the Caprice. “We’ll take my ride. Come on out the front.”
As he turned to go, Hellhound stepped in front of him, looming threateningly. “Just wanna be clear. Ya do whatever it takes to keep Jane safe. Anythin’ she says, ya do. Anythin’ happens to her, an’ ya ain’t gonna live to boost another car. Got it?”
“Jeez, man, chill. I got it.”
Hellhound stepped back, then added, “An’ we need cash. As much as ya can get.”
“What?” Weasel yelped. “Come on, man. What the fuck…”
“I’ll pay ya back.” Hellhound glowered, and Weasel eyed him uncertainly, obviously wondering whether that was a threat or a promise.
“Okay,” he muttered, and made for the door as if afraid Hellhound would add more demands to the list.
“Wait.”
Weasel stiffened at the sound of Hellhound’s rasp, and we both turned.
“Here, darlin’,” Hellhound said, and held out my hooded jacket. “Better put this on. Ya forgot it last time.”
“Thanks.”
I took it from him in exchange for a kiss, and he leaned down to mutter in my ear. “Don’t let him get to ya. Don’t react, just ignore him if he gets started.”
I pulled away. “I can handle him. I’m armed, remember? See you later.”
He opened his mouth as if to admonish me further, but I gave him a reassuring smile and left before he could say anything else.
Chapter 26
Weasel’s ride was a pimped-out Tiburon, lowered to within an inch of the pavement. I shot a look at the ultra-low-profile tires and slid into the car, wondering how many rims he went through. He’d need new ones every time he hit a dimple in the road. Then again, acquiring new parts probably wasn’t a big deal for a guy like him.
Weasel lit up another cigarette and started the car. The stereo boomed to life, making me flinch. The bass resonated in my chest cavity, and the legs of my jeans quivered under the assault. Some part of the car vibrated with an irritating high-frequency buzz on each beat. I dug into my waist pouch and extracted my earplugs.
With earplugs in place, the noise was tolerable. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and slouched in the seat. At least nobody would think to look for me in a car like this with the stereo blaring. Talk about hiding in plain sight.
Weasel’s hand skimmed the air from my knee to high on the inside of my thigh, mere molecules away. I started and jerked around to lip-read him over the din.
“Where to?” he asked.
I gripped his wrist and pushed his hand back over to his side of the car before reaching over to turn the volume knob down. “Do that again and I’ll cut your hand off.” I pulled out my knife and turned it back and forth, letting the light run along the blade.
His eyes widened. “Jeez, you’re one crazy bitch. I never even touched you. Chill, already.”
“Get the cash first. Then take me to an internet cafe. Somewhere far from here.”
“All right, all right.” He cranked the volume again and pulled out, bobbing his head in time to the music and grinning when car alarms went off in the vehicles parked beside the road.
After a stop at an ATM, Weasel drove south and eventually pulled up in front of a strip mall. When he turned the car off, the silence echoed. I gingerly removed the earplugs.
“There you go,” he said, waving an expansive hand toward the small cafe.
“No, there we go,” I corrected. “You’re going to come in with me. You’re going to watch my back and tell me if anybody is looking at me. You’re going to stay with me until I’m done, and then we’re going to come back out to the car together. If anything goes wrong, we’ll split up, and I’ll meet you at the car later. If you take off on me, I’ll cut your nuts off and shove them up your ass. Got it?”
“Christ, lady, I said I’d help. You don’t have to make such a big fucking deal about it.” He paused. “You’re thinking about my nuts?”
I ignored his last question as I folded up the knife and tucked it back in my pouch. “Just making sure we don’t have any misunderstandings. I don’t like misunderstandings. Now give me the cash.”
“I’ll give it to Hellhound when we get back.” His gaze didn’t quite meet mine.
“You’ll give it to me right fucking now, or I’ll ventilate your spleen.” I lifted the bottom of the jacket to display my gun, channelling Hollywood gangsters for all I was worth.
He eyed me with an utterly unconvincing expression of wounded innocence. “You don’t trust me.”
“Hell, no, I don’t trust you. Give me the goddamn cash.”
He hesitated for a second before giving me a nicotine-stained grin. “I like you. You’re fucking batshit crazy. And you wanna touch my nuts. That’s totally hot.” He handed over the roll of bills, his fingertips brushing my palm intimately. I hid my twitch of revulsion with an effort.
&nb
sp; “Let’s go.” I got out of the car and waited for him to precede me into the cafe, making sure he didn’t decide to bolt.
I sidled into the dimly-lit space and chose a terminal in the corner. Weasel hovered, and I nodded over to the counter. “Pay for it. I’m only going to be a few minutes.”
He gave a martyred sigh and wandered toward the counter. I pulled my hood closer around my face and slouched while I logged in. I found Spider with no difficulty this time. Whisper.
“Spider.”
There was a pause before his response appeared on the screen. “finally. r u okay?”
“Fine. Sorry, I got delayed. Any news?”
“nothing good.” My heart plummeted, and I clenched the mouse until it squeaked. His text continued to scroll.
“no sign of D or N. all info on u redacted.” I let out a breath that sounded like a whimper as Weasel meandered back. I ignored his questioning look and took a couple of deep breaths. At least they hadn’t found any bodies.
“Is K all right?”
“yes.”
Small mercies. “Thanks, over & out,” I typed.
“WAIT!”
I ignored his text and logged out of the game. As I cleared the cache, I racked my brain. I had to do something.
Weasel offered me another yellow-toothed smile and drifted closer, and I realized I’d been staring blankly at him. I averted my eyes from the unedifying sight as an idea occurred to me. I might not have any family left, but my dad had lived on the farm most of his life. Maybe he’d confided in one of his neighbours. Or maybe one of his school friends from long ago.
As the names occurred to me, I searched them on the internet, scribbling contact information on the scrap of paper I’d extracted from my waist pouch. My heart pounded with tense hope. Thank heaven people of my dad’s generation rarely bothered with unlisted phone numbers.
A movement at the doorway caught my eye, and I froze at the sight of the handsome young man who strode in. There was no mistaking the dimple in his chin and the thin scar that sliced across his cheekbone, visible even in the dim light.
Shit, shit, shit!
I dropped my head and logged off, clearing the cache again with shaking hands as I mumbled, “Create a distraction.”
“What?” Weasel leaned closer.
“Create a fucking distraction. Now!”
There were definite advantages to associating with criminals. Weasel oozed away with movements as smooth and unobtrusive as his namesake, and slid into a seat at a terminal on the opposite side of the cafe. I kept my head bowed and watched from under my brows.
Suddenly, he smashed his fist onto the table. “Fuck! Fucking cheater!” he yelled as he rocketed to his feet. All eyes jerked toward him.
He dealt the table another vicious blow, shouting obscenities and alternately punching the air and the table. I moved unhurriedly for the exit, heart hammering.
Weasel kicked his chair against the wall, then swung around and grabbed it, brandishing it above his head as he bellowed. Nice work. He had everybody’s full attention. I faded out the door and made a beeline for the car.
The locking system chirped as I approached it, and I realized with a surge of gratitude that Weasel was actually thinking. And looking out for me. I slid into the back seat and wedged myself as close to the floor as I could manage in the tiny space, wishing the streetlights weren’t so bright.
About thirty seconds later, I heard Weasel’s voice approaching the car. “Yeah. Sorry, I just got carried away. Sorry.”
Another male voice rumbled, but it didn’t sound like it was getting nearer.
“Yeah, I’ll just go now. Sorry.” Weasel slid into the driver’s seat and whispered, “Jane?”
“Go,” I replied.
The stereo blasted out its thumping beat again, and I felt the car accelerate.
I stayed hunched in my uncomfortable position for long minutes while the bass mule-kicked my eardrums and my protesting knees ground into the hard floor. I leaned forward on my elbows, stuffing my fingers in my ears in a desperate attempt to preserve some vestiges of my hearing. At last, the volume dropped from brain-pulverising to merely painful.
“I said, you can sit up now,” Weasel shouted.
I uncurled, groaning, and hauled myself up onto the seat. “Thanks,” I yelled over the music.
“What?”
“Turn down the goddamn music!”
“What?” The volume dropped again. “What did you say?”
“I said thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Want to fuck?”
I couldn’t have heard that right. Loud music. “What did you say?”
“I said, you want to fuck? I got a massive boner thinking about you squeezing my balls. Mmmm.”
Yeah, I’d heard that right. Unfortunately.
“No.”
“Jeez, why not? I’m good. You’ll like it.”
“I’ll pass.”
“How about giving me a blowjob then? As a thank-you?”
My residual adrenaline morphed into irritation, making a potent cocktail. I kept my voice flat. “How about I give you a handjob with my knife? Last one you’ll ever need.”
“Kinky shit. Now I’m really hard.” He reached to turn up the music again, then caught my eye in the rearview mirror, grinning as his hand slid into his lap. His elbow began to jog vigorously, and I developed a sudden keen fascination with the largely invisible scenery in the darkness outside the tinted windows.
Back at the industrial park, I climbed out of the car, resisting the urge to drop to my knees and kiss the ground. I settled for a couple of deep breaths of clean, quiet air while we walked across the parking lot.
Weasel sidled over, and I sprang away as his hands hovered inches from my ass.
“What?” he asked with pained innocence. “I didn’t even touch you.” He stepped close again, his face almost skimming my hair. “Damn, you smell crazy good. Sure you don’t wanna fuck? I’m so hard I could drive nails.”
My temper snapped as I dodged away again. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you had the last dick on earth. You try that again, and you won’t even have a dick. I’ll rip it off and stuff it down your throat. We clear?”
“What? I didn’t do anything.” His eyes drifted half-closed, and he cupped his crotch. “You wanna pull my cock. You wanna squeeze my balls,” he singsonged. “Goddamn, you’re one crazy hot bitch. I’m gonna jizz in my pants right now.” He rubbed himself through his jeans, moaning.
I breathed slowly through my teeth, wrestling with the fervent desire to pull out my gun and shoot him. At last, I convinced myself that being slimy and disgusting was, unfortunately, not an offense worthy of death. I turned and walked away instead, nerves twitching and sizzling.
The front door was locked. Of course.
“Sonuva-fucking-bitch!” I pounded violently on the door.
My skin crawled when Weasel spoke from too close behind me. “I got the key. Want me to slam my key into your hot, wet keyhole?” His hands appeared in front of me, tracing the shape of my breasts without actually touching me. His stale smoker’s breath ruffled my hair. “Yeah,” he crooned. “Oooh, yeah. Bend over. I wanna see your sweet ass in the air-”
The world went red and I spun. My fist made a creditable attempt to reach his backbone through his solar plexus. The air barked out of him as he doubled over, presenting a marvellous target for the knee I hammered up into his face.
He said, “Urmfp,” and started to fold. I was just winding up for a ball-crushing kick when powerful arms closed around me from behind and dragged me away.
I roared with pure rage, stomping down with one heel while I slammed my head back. The grip released when I made contact with a foot and a chin respectively, and I belatedly recognized Hellhound’s yell.
“Darlin’, stop! Ow! Fuck! Jesus! Fuck!”
I spun around, reaching for him in horrified remorse, and he took a quick step backward, his hands flying up defensively.
“Sorr
y, I’m so sorry!” I babbled. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”
He relaxed and gave me a lopsided grin, rubbing his chin. “Fine, darlin’. Thought ya were gonna kick the shit outta me, too, for a minute there.”
“No, I’m sorry.” I caressed his bruised face with quivering fingertips, panting with reaction. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve really hurt.”
“It’s okay, darlin’. What’s goin’ on?” He eyed the groaning heap on the pavement. “Weasel get outta hand? I’d offer to tune him up for ya, but it looks like ya got it under control.”
“Yeah.” I turned to look down at Weasel, my conscience already beginning to niggle at me. “I… kind of overreacted. He was just coming onto me. Usually I can laugh that stuff off, but I was really on edge…”
Weasel slowly uncurled to reveal a bloody nose. He groaned and clutched his stomach, and guilt suffused me. “He actually saved my butt.”
I stepped forward and started to kneel beside him, but Hellhound took my arm. “Don’t.”
I let him pull me back, alarm trickling into my veins. “Is he going to be really mad?” I whispered. “Do you think he’ll rat us out?”
“Hell, no, darlin’. Ya prob’ly made his night. If ya go near him, he’ll just provoke ya again so you’ll hit him some more. Hold the door an’ I’ll drag him in.”
Hellhound seized Weasel by the shirt and hauled him through the door one-handed, dropping him unceremoniously just inside the office. He stepped over Weasel’s prostrate body to lock the door before turning to put an arm around me and guide me into the back bay.
“Was he doin’ that thing where he almost touches ya?” he asked.
I blew out a long breath. “Yeah. What the hell is that?”
“Just his way of pissin’ ya off. Most women take a swing at him sooner or later, an’ that’s just what he’s lookin’ for. He got charged last time, though, ‘cause the chick jumped the wrong way an’ he accidentally touched her. I was tryin’ to warn ya, but ya left too fast.”
“You’re kidding me. He actually likes women to hit him?”
Arnie shrugged. “Yeah. Come on, darlin’, let’s get ya a beer an’ ya can tell me what happened.”
Tell Me No Spies Page 22
