Bone Pit: A Chilling Medical Suspense Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 3)

by Bette Golden Lamb

  The other customers laughed out loud.

  “Yep, you got it … nothing dumber than a tourist,” said the man at the end of the bar, “…’ceptin’ another tourist.”

  The four other customers really thought that was something. Gina and Harry were the only ones not laughing.

  “What’ll you two have to drink?” The man behind the bar put two cocktail napkins in front of them. “And we don’t make Grasshoppers or Brandy Alexanders in this establishment.”

  Gina was uncomfortable. She was the only woman in the place and none of the men were nice, or even looked clean. “Harry, it’s really late. I think we should go.”

  “We’ll have two Stolies, straight up.”

  Gina squeezed his thigh.

  The man at the end of the bar ambled down and slid onto the stool next to Gina. “Well, now, it looks like we have a couple of sports here. Hey, man, how about buying a round for the rest of us?”

  Harry looked the guy straight in the eyes. “Not me. Maybe you can hit on the next dumb tourist who wanders in here.”

  The man looked up at the ceiling, spoke through the side of his mouth, “Now you sound darn-right unfriendly, dude.”

  Harry was riled. Gina could tell by his right eyebrow working its way up to his forehead; that didn’t happen very often.

  He said, “The friendly thing to do would be to buy a couple of strangers a drink.” Harry ended his comment with a big, unnatural smile.

  The bartender set the shots in front of them. Gina and Harry reached in unison and downed the drinks in one gulp. Gina thought her head would burst, but she pretended like she drank straight vodka every day.

  The room was deadly silent. Even the piano player seemed to lose his way on the keys.

  “Hit us again,” Harry said.

  The bartender lifted the bills from the bar. “You ain’t got enough here to cover it.”

  Staring straight ahead Harry pulled more bills from his pocket and plunked them on the bar. “That cover it?”

  The bartender poured two more vodka shots.

  Harry said to Gina, “What do you say we drink up and blow this fire trap, doll?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Gina didn’t recognize either of their voices. They sounded like people from a B movie. Before she could move, the man next to her downed her drink and roughly grabbed onto her breast.

  Gina was stunned at first, but then she hauled back and slapped him hard in the face. Harry followed up by popping him solidly in the jaw. The man fell like a stone.

  The others moved toward them. Gina reached into her purse and brought out a switch blade, pressed the button, and six-inches of glistening steel flicked out.

  Harry stood beside her. “Any of you take one more step…” he pointed to the man on the floor… “and she’ll slice him open like a dead stag.”

  The men stopped, looked at each other, and stepped back. Harry reached over and downed the shot of booze. Then they backed out of The Silver Stope.

  They ran to the car, spilled in and were pulling away when the bar patrons ran out onto the boardwalk, shouting lost words at them.

  “Well, I guess we can add Virginia City to the places we won’t go back to,” Harry said.

  “Who wants to?” Gina said, feeling strangely whole again. “But it was a damn good hamburger.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  * * * *

  They drove down the hill, the Jeep radio blasting away. Gina leaned out the window, looked up at the night sky aglitter with stars like scattered diamonds. She sang out into the night.

  “The hill-ll-ll-lls are alive with the sound of music!”

  She didn’t even try to hit the right notes.

  Harry laughed at her screeching voice. “Whoever said you could sing was stone deaf.”

  The air was crisp and she was happy again. She turned away from the window, nuzzled Harry’s neck, and wrapped her arms around him. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “That doesn’t quite cover it,” he said, hanging on to the steering wheel.

  “I can do better.” She ran her tongue into his ear and slid her hands down into his jeans.

  “Hey, you she-devil, are you trying to get us killed?”

  She wouldn’t let go of him; when they made it back to the Comstock driveway, the minute he parked the Jeep they were in each other’s arms. His fingertips slid across her back and unhooked her bra; his mouth traveled down her neck.

  “Baby, I really love you.”

  The drinks had made her feel lighthearted and happy—happy for this moment, happy to be with him. She whispered, “How come we never do this in the Fiat.” They both burst out laughing again.

  “I can almost visualize that … but not quite,” he said. “Besides, we tried that … once. I say, let’s get out of here and crawl into our bed.”

  “No-o-o. Being here makes me feel like a teenager again. You’re just spoiled.”

  “And guess who spoiled me?”

  They jumped out of the Jeep and Gina ran straight into Pete. Rocky stood next to him. Both of them had wide, nasty smiles on their faces.

  “What’s so funny,” Gina said.

  “For a minute I thought we was in for a beaver show,” Rocky said. “Hell, there’s nothing like watching two people fucking to heat your blood. Not that mine isn’t hot enough already.”

  Harry came around the car. “All right, you two, get lost.”

  Pete grabbed onto Gina’s arm, pulled her to him. “Why don’t you get lost, little man, so’s we can have some private time with this here little nurse?” His sour breath, laced with alcohol fumes, spilled over her.

  “Get your hands off me, you pig,” she said.

  He laughed at her. She drew back and punched him hard in the nose.

  Pete let go, covered his face with his hands. Blood gushed between his fingers and ran down his mouth and chin.

  “Bitch,” Pete screamed.

  Harry lunged at Pete and kneed him in the groin, then chopped hard into his neck. The orderly went down, sprawled in the dirt.

  Gina turned, ready for a possible attack by Rocky. But he was bent over laughing.

  Pete yelled up at Rocky, “Some friend you turned out to be.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Petey. They’ll get theirs.”

  Harry grabbed Gina’s hand and they hurried to the front entrance. At the doorway, she turned to see if the orderlies were following.

  They were gone.

  Chapter 26

  Rocky sat at the bar, still pissed at that goddamn nurse and her boyfriend making out in the Jeep. He’d wanted to grab her, smash her face, fuck her up really bad.

  He watched Pete toss back his beer like he hadn’t had a drink in a coon’s age.

  Dude’s a boozer. Friggin’ fool would cut off his dick for a drink.

  Idiots like Pete were easy to control. He learned that lesson when they planted him in some dumbass foster home because his Mom drank herself to death.

  His foster parents also chug-a-lugged—beer, wine, the hard stuff—every evening of every single day until they passed out.

  He watched Pete take another huge gulp of his fresh suds.

  Damn! If the jerk isn’t downing another one. That’s his last—after that we’re out of here. I’m getting laid tonight … that’s for sure. And it’s gonna be hot and fast.

  Rocky needed to get over this rotten mood—felt like slamming someone hard against the brass bar railing.

  Someone’s bitch. That’s what that male nurse did to Pete. Caught him off guard and made him his bitch.

  We ain’t nobody's bitch. Nooobooody.

  Rocky knew his face had turned bright red—he could feel the blood pounding in his head.

  “Hey, dude! Drink ‘er up and let’s go get laid.”

  “Not yet, man. I’m just getting warmed up.”

  “What you’re getting is wasted, you jerk.”

  “Be a buddy; lemme finish this.”

  Rocky
turned away, looked around the room. He played with his half-filled glass of beer, twisted it one way, then another. Typical VC dive—old wooden floors, six-shooters snug in their holsters hanging on the walls next to phony wanted posters, and old Juliette Bulette whorehouse flyers, whoever the hell she was. And there were the mounted stags, their big-time racks on their heads, glassy eyes staring right at him. Stupid, dead animals.

  The drinking action was pretty slow, but there were a couple of women giving him the eye, he could feel himself getting hard thinking about doing them.

  “Come on, you stupid boozer, down it. We’re out of here, hear me?”

  * * * *

  It took them about twenty minutes to get to the whorehouse, Rocky driving a full ninety with the pedal to the metal, windows wide open; Pete was dozing, snoring and snorting every other minute. Otherwise it was only the sound of the wind blasting through the truck. Without the radio on, it was soothing, almost like pretending to fly in the night, like he used to do when he was a kid.

  Rocky thought about that ranch he’d been dumped on. His foster parents worked his ass off all day, but after belting their drinks they’d soon quit their screaming at the kids and each other, and fall into bed. He and Pete would sneak out, climb up into a big granddaddy tree and listen to the wind as it whistled through the limbs and in his ear.

  Flying like an eagle.

  He looked over at Pete. Even back then he was stealing booze and getting high, getting wasted. Rocky liked his booze, but nothing was going to mess with his game. He was in charge of his life, not some fuckin’ bottle of booze.

  He thought about Harry Lucke again.

  Friggin’ nurse!

  When they finally arrived at the whorehouse, they drove through the gate in the middle of a wire fence that surrounded a trio of connecting house trailers. Bright floodlights and ground light cut through the pitch black night and bounced off the desert floor. Rocky spotted two Dobermans, their flashing green eyes watching intently. They weren’t going anywhere while chained to an iron link in the ground, and they weren’t anywhere near the pathway to the door, but their presence sent its own message.

  There were several cars and trucks in the parking lot, and a big mother-fucker of a bouncer waiting for them at the door.

  It looked like business wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either.

  Rocky got out of the truck, saw a large six-foot sign posted right outside the first trailer.

  NELLIE’S NOOK

  THIS IS THE STARLIGHT RANCH

  IT'S NOT A HOUSE—NOT A HOME

  PAY UP

  DO YOUR THING

  MOVE ON

  Bet they think they’re pretty damn funny.

  He’d heard a lot of rumors about the place, but he’d never been inside. He knew their prices were high and they had a reputation for good, clean girls.

  Hell, I’m just going to fuck them, not marry them.

  He elbowed Pete and got him out of the truck. The bouncer watched them move toward the front door. Pete was stumbling and Rocky had to hold him up.

  “Maybe you better wait in the car, you loser.”

  “Hell, no! I’m getting me some action, big brother.”

  Rocky hated when Pete called him that. Yeah, they’d been together for a long time, but Rocky had no family and he didn’t want one. Family let you down even quicker and harder than the average bear.

  “You looking for a good time?” the bouncer said at the entrance.

  Pete answered, laughing like a hyena, “Whadda you think, we’re here for, a seminar?”

  Rocky threw an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t listen to this fool. What we’re lookin’ for is to get laid.”

  “Not me. I want a blow job,” Pete said, punching Rocky in the arm, laughing his fool head off.

  “We don’t allow no guns inside. I’m gonna have to pat you down.”

  “We’re not carrying, but go ahead.”

  “You touch my junk and you’re a dead man,” Pete said.

  The bouncer looked him square in the eye. “The last thing I want to touch is your fuckin’ junk, asshole.”

  “Hey, just ignore the jerk and do what you gotta do,” Rocky said.

  A police special tucked in a shoulder holster peeked from under the big man’s jacket when he squatted down and did his search. He finally nodded them through.

  Inside, the lights were dim, sexy music played in the background, and the furnishings were run down and spotted—could have used a real fixing up. Four men sat in covered arm chairs, staring at six girls hoofing past them, wearing skimpy costumes. It was hard to tell the whores’ ages, but they were all young enough to make Rocky definitely want to fuck them.

  Rocky’s gaze flew past two in parochial school uniforms, a skinny broad dressed as a Raggedy Ann doll, a Snow White, a belly dancer, and one in a nurse’s uniform.

  Now that’s what I call accommodating. Even looks a little like that Mazzio bitch—tall, with black Dago hair.

  The madam, a woman in her fifties, if she was a day, hovered over the men ahead of them. “This isn’t a hotel fashion show. Take your pick and get on with it.”

  Two of the men stood and smiled at Nellie, if that was her name. They each had gaps in their front teeth and looked grungy, with sweat-stained underarms. The madam held out her hand and they filled her fist with bills before each took the hand of a school girl. The men sure as hell weren’t first timers because they pulled the girls down one of the hallways like they knew exactly where to go.

  Pete dozed on and off; Rocky waited, trying to ignore the pressure building in his groin.

  Two more girls came wandering out to join the others. They each wore short nighties and Rocky could tell they were already done in by their pale faces and phony smiles. They must have been favorites because the two men in front of Rocky and Pete immediately jumped up and grabbed the girl’s hands like they were late for a date.

  The madam was quick to block Rocky and Pete from going farther into the waiting room.

  “Now hold on a second, you two. No cookie, no nookie.” She thought she was pretty damn funny because she cackled as she grabbed their money and let then move on.

  “You boys know what you want, yet?”

  “Yeah, we’ll take the nurse.” Pete sat up and looked around.

  “You both taking one?”

  “You got some house rule against that?” Rocky said.

  The madam didn’t seem to like Rocky’s attitude. She stiffened, thrust a hand into her pocket, and glared at them. He knew she was probably packin’ some kind of pea shooter. They always were.

  “For you and your buddy, it’ll cost triple … and don’t you go thinking you’re gonna pull any wise ass shit on me or my girls, ‘cause I’ll ream your ass with a pole. You won’t be sittin’ so good, but your mouth will be a lot more respec’ful. Get it?”

  “All I want is a blow job,” Pete whined.

  Rocky raised both hands. “I didn’t mean anything disrespectful, ma’am.”

  “Yeah, well that’ll still be three hundred bucks.” She held her hand out, palm up.

  Once the madam was paid, the nurse took them to a small room that was almost filled with a king-size bed. Rocky had seen better, but he’d seen worse, too. Pete just stood there staring at the girl’s mouth as she sucked one finger.

  “What’ll make you happy, baby?” she said to Pete.

  Pete looked at Rocky. “You go first.”

  “Nah, I like to watch.” He nodded at the woman, who sidled up to Pete and ran her hands up and down the front of his jeans.

  Pete’s eyes were at half-mast, but he had a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face as she pulled down his fly. The woman pushed him onto the bed, took a wash cloth from a small side table, yanked out his cock, and washed him down. Then she ran her hands under his balls while her lips and tongue rode the length of him. She couldn’t have been at it a full minute when he twitched a couple of times and blew his wad.

  “Fool! Se
e what the booze does for you? You aint got no stamina.”

  Pete looked at Rocky with the same silly-assed grin on his face; he rolled over and immediately went to sleep.

  Rocky slid his buddy off the bed and stared at the nurse. She had moved to the center of the bed, pulled her dress up around her hips and was running her fingers around and inside herself, pumping with her ass, tonguing her lips.

  “What do you want, baby?”

  Rocky had a boner that wouldn’t quit; he bulged painfully inside his jeans. He looked at the uniform and the cardboard nurse’s cap pinned to her head.

  “Take off the fuckin’ dumb hat.”

  She lifted it away and tossed it on the small side table. He looked her up and down. “Get the rest off, you piece of shit.”

  Her expression changed, like a fast moving storm. She was scared. He could see her eyeing the door, but she’d have to go through him to get to it. She carefully took off the grungy white uniform-like dress, freeing her small boobs. He could see the Mazzio broad in his head—tall, skinny, black hair, just like this bitch.

  It felt like all his blood had drained from the rest of his body and pooled in his cock—a volcano filled and ready to blow.

  He undid his pants, crawled onto the bed, straddled her, and rested his hands on her breasts. Rocky waited, but she didn’t move; he tossed her legs over his shoulders, thrust himself inside her and plunged in and out, over and over and over.

  Nothing! No relief.

  His cock grew tighter, bigger; stretched, hurt. But he couldn’t climax.

  Fucking nurse’s fault. That fucking bitch!

  “You whore!” he screamed. His hand balled into a fist and he slammed her in the mouth, again and again, beating on her until blood was all over the pillows and spread, smeared across her face, arms, and breasts.

  Rocky laughed as her screams bounced off the walls.

  When they grabbed him, he roared even louder as a geyser of spunk sprayed out across the bed.

  Chapter 27

  Rocky looked through the steel bars at Pete in the adjoining cell. He was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The jerk was finally sober after heaving all over himself and the squad car; he never stopped barfing during the twenty-minute ride from the whorehouse to the police station. Rocky was disgusted; he couldn’t seem to get away from the stink of the mess all over the idiot’s shirt and pants; he might as well have been sitting on top of him.