Shadows 02 Celtic Shadows

by K C West

  The door rattled and I caught a glimpse of Brownie scooting out of his hole in the corner, coming to mooch some food from me at the worst possible time.

  Garlic Breath saw me looking toward the bookcase. “Something interesting going on over there, Blondie?”

  I stood up to face him and made a shooing motion to Brownie behind my back. “Nothing’s going on, except you’re late and I need to get to the bathroom.”

  “Ain’t that a shame.” His false sympathy and dogged interest in what was happening behind me heightened my anxiety. “I think I need to see what’s so fascinating about that bookcase.”

  He tried to go around me, but I stepped into his path. Brownie must have sensed danger. I could hear his toenails scratching across the floor, making a noisy getaway. Garlic Breath grabbed my shoulders and pushed me aside. “There’s something over there.”

  “It’s nothing. Really.” I shoved against his chest, trying to delay his advance.

  “The hell it is.”

  We wrestled for a second or two more. “Blondie, this is a cute little dance you’re doing with me.”

  “I’m not dancing with you, damn it, I need to go upstairs.”

  “Shit! It’s a rat. Right down in the corner there.”

  “No, idiot, it’s not a rat.” I continued to push him, but he backed away and his hand moved quickly to his belt. The action was so fast that all I saw was the flash of a shiny blade flying through the air. I heard a thud, a sickening squeak, and a thrashing of toenails against the baseboard.

  Garlic Breath was gleeful. “Gotcha, you little rat.”

  I tried to go to Brownie’s aid, but Garlic Breath snagged my T-shirt collar and dragged me back. “Don’t go near it, bitch. I’m saving you from that filthy animal.”

  “Let me go!” I pushed at him, but he locked his arms around me, and his chest heaved with mocking laughter.

  I glanced at the far wall, hoping against hope that Brownie had somehow escaped this brutal assault, but the knife had found its target. The tiny body was pinned to the baseboard. Brownie’s legs twitched weakly and then stilled.

  Tears slid down my cheeks. It was all my fault. I tamed him, taught him that he was safe with me, and now he was dead.

  A sob caught in my throat.

  Garlic Breath released me in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re crying over a lousy rat.”

  “He was a mouse, an innocent little mouse.” I swiped at my eves. “The only rat in this room is you.”

  “Whatever. Come on, it’s time for breakfast.”

  I straightened my shoulders and glared at him. “Why’d you have to go and do that? He wasn’t hurting anything.”

  “Ah, shut up. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  “You’re a bastard and a bully,” I said, turning around as instructed.

  “Yeah, that’s what makes me so irresistible.” He slipped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists and squeezed them shut before giving my butt a squeeze. “Right, cutie?”

  Woodsy appeared in the doorway. “What’s taking so long?” He looked at his partner and then at me. “Any trouble? I thought I heard a noise.”

  Garlic Breath twirled me around and cupped my chin in his meaty hand. “We’ll attach your ankle chains when we get upstairs.” He turned to Woodsy and gave a hearty laugh. “I just did a little pest control. See over there?” He pointed to the far wall. “Our prisoner was threatened by a filthy rat.”

  Woodsy spotted Brownie’s body and made a noise under his ski mask. I couldn’t tell if it was sympathetic or congratulatory. It didn’t matter, anyway. Brownie was dead and would never again scamper across the blanket to pick up crumbs of bread and cheese from my fingers or cheer me with his bewhiskered expressions.

  “For some reason, she isn’t very grateful about it, though.”

  Garlic Breath tried to hug me, but I stepped away and glared at both of them. “Can we get this show on the road? I assume you want something cooked for your breakfast.”

  “Let’s go.” Garlic Breath gave Woodsy a soft punch on the shoulder. “I guess the rat’s too small to fry up.”

  Woodsy groaned. “Come on, you’ve done enough damage down here.” He started to guide me up the stairs to the bathroom.

  “Shit, I almost forgot to get my knife back.” Garlic Breath tossed the handcuff keys to Woodsy and retreated to my room. “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you in a second.”

  We climbed the stairs in silence.

  I think it was then that I realized how tenuous my existence really was. I had lost my mother when I was young, and while I was devastated by the loss, I hadn’t given a lot of thought to my own death. We can be here one day and then, the next day, the next hour, be gone forever. Brownie had taught me something about the fragile nature of life, both human and animal.

  Woodsy opened the bathroom door, checked the interior, and unlocked my handcuffs. “Watch yourself around him,” he said.

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  He closed the door behind me. Garlic Breath must have climbed the stairs, because as I hastened to empty my bladder and wash up, I could hear their voices.

  The discussion grew louder, more strident. This was new. What could they be arguing about? Curious, I edged to the door and put my ear against it.

  “ - not what I signed on for, Charlie. It’s murder, plain and simple.”

  “Who asked for your opinion? Shut up, asshole.”

  “It’s not necessary, that’s all.”

  “They’re paying us to carry out orders. It’s as simple as that. You’re too damn soft on her anyway.”

  Her? Were they talking about me?

  “I’m only saying - ”

  “Say all you want, Bert, but when the boss wants her dead, we’ll do it.”

  Christ. The butterflies were back on their acid trip.

  “I’m just saying she doesn’t have to die. We’ve kept the masks on. She can’t identify us.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s a liability. If you haven’t got the guts, I’ll have to do it. But I’ll have a little fun with her first.”

  “Shit, Charlie, your idea of fun is - ”

  There was a loud snort, and their voices dropped.

  Jesus. I could imagine. My mouth went dry. My heartbeat drummed in my ears. This was the plan all along. Collect the ransom and eliminate the witness. My mind refused to consider the in-between part.

  After a moment, their voices rose again.

  “Shit, I can’t help it if I get urges. You can see she’s got a good body.”

  “You should know, you’ve felt it enough.”

  “You’re welcome to party along with us, Bert.”

  “I’m just saying we could do it another way, is all. She doesn’t have to die.” Woodsy sounded almost as sick about the situation as I was.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. You, me, and her. If the boss wants a niece of the action, the more the merrier. And then, who cares? She’ll be out of our hair forever.”

  His wicked laugh caused a revolution in my stomach. I rushed to the toilet and vomited. With shaky hands, I splashed water into my mouth and over my face, telling myself to take deep breaths. At least the butterflies were gone. I had probably flushed them all away.

  How would an Amazon get herself out of this situation? I looked around the bathroom. Rape and murder were on the agenda, and no armed, leather-clad Amazons were materializing to give me a hand.

  Thanks a bunch, ladies.

  Okay, there was still the escape plan. Put the Ambien in their food. I’d start with breakfast and keep it going with each meal.

  *

  It was hard to tell whether or not the plan was working. Aside from a few yawns over the scrambled eggs, there was little evidence that the men were weakening enough to permit my escape. I spent the rest of the morning pacing my room, reading and thinking, examining the rest of my powdered sedative, gathering up my meager belongings - just in case - and listening for Designer Suit’s
return.

  *

  Bert brought me upstairs for supper. I appreciated his verbal attempts to dissuade Charlie from raping and killing me once the ransom had been paid, but I knew I couldn’t count on his physical support when the time came. Charlie was as big as he was and twice as mean. He wouldn’t hesitate to use force if his plans were challenged, and he’d already demonstrated his prowess with a knife. Designer Suit controlled his men when he was around, but soon Charlie would have complete freedom to deal with me in his own delightful way.

  I shuddered. I knew I couldn’t count on anyone but myself when the time came.

  I took mugs and supplies from the cupboard and put the kettle on to boil. After I set the table, I stared out the kitchen window into the evening shadows. The yard was small, with lots of tall trees and thick hedges. I could detect the remains of a once cheerful garden, its few remaining flowers now brutalized by a horde of bullying weeds.

  Just like Brownie and me. We were the flowers in that pitiful garden, and these guys were the weeds. I sighed. We probably never had a chance.

  A lump of self-pity formed in my throat.

  Charlie entered the kitchen, glancing around to see if we were alone. He had strapped a gun to his belt along with his knife and a set of handcuffs. Though I could hear Bert stumbling around in the next room, I didn’t want to be alone with Charlie. Nervous sweat dampened my neck and underarms.

  “Come on, Blondie.” He gave my butt a rub and slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Are you going to fix us something to eat or stand around admiring the scenery?”

  Something snapped inside me, and along with fear, I felt a surge of anger. It was all I could do to keep from telling him what he could do with his filthy paws. He was hungry. I’d give him something with a strong dose of Ambien.

  I forced myself to smile at him. “How about tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  He grunted his approval and slid his arm down off my shoulder toward my breasts. I shuffled away from him, opened the cupboard, and searched for bowls, spoons, and plates. “If you don’t have anything else to do, you can set the table.”

  Charlie laughed. “Oh, I can think of lots of things to do.”

  “I’ll help you, miss.” Bert crossed to my side and took the plates and bowls. At my suggestion, Charlie found utensils for us in the drawers. I started the soup and grilled the sandwiches, sprinkling Ambien in small pinches whenever the men weren’t watching me. Most of it went into the soup.

  “Blondie, hold it right there.”

  Charlie must have seen me sprinkling the last of the Ambien.

  My heart stopped.

  “What’s that?”

  I struggled to speak over the dryness in my throat. “What’s what?”

  He walked over to me and stared into the pot. Ambien residue still floated on the surface of the soup. “What’s that stuff you put in there?”

  I made a pretense of looking where he was pointing, my brain working frantically to come up with a plausible response. “Oh, that. It’s just a little garlic powder to spice up the soup. It’s so bland without something to enhance the flavor.”

  He seemed surprised. “How’d you know I like garlic?”

  I smiled. “Oh, just a guess.” That, and the fact that he reeked of it He probably used garlic-flavored toothpaste. “Anyway, I think it’s ready. Let’s sit down and eat.”

  They helped me put things on the table, and then Bert unhooked one ankle chain and attached it to the table leg. The men made idle conversation as we ate. I poked at my sandwich, never chewing much of it, concentrating on my tea, the one thing I hadn’t doctored.

  Bert tried to hold up his end of the discussion, but started rubbing his eyes. He propped his head up with both hands.

  Oh, shit! It was working, but on the one guy who might help me.

  By the time we finished the meal, Bert’s head was resting on his folded arms.

  Charlie blinked and rubbed his face. “Geez, my eyes feel itchy.” He stifled a yawn and rose on unsteady legs.

  Noticing Bert’s fatigue, he shook his head. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Blondie. Let’s go downstairs and get you settled.” He took his gun and placed it in one of the kitchen drawers. “Wouldn’t want this to go off accidentally.”

  He bent to free my ankle from the table leg. I started to stand, but he grabbed my right wrist and slapped one end of his handcuffs over it, locking the other end onto his own wrist.

  A spasm of fear shot through me. “What are you doing?”

  He touched the side of my face with his free hand. I could see his mouth widen behind the hole in his mask, exposing big, uneven teeth, his attempt at a seductive smile. “I’ve got a little party planned just for the two of us.”

  My heart thrummed in my ears. “Shouldn’t I finish the dishes first and put away the leftovers?”

  “That can wait. This can’t,” he said, patting his crotch. He tugged me along toward the stairwell.

  I fought him every step of the way, squirming and dragging my feet, but he was too powerful. By the time we entered the basement room, we were both sweating.

  He leaned me against the door and held both my hands in his handcuffed one long enough to turn the lock.

  “Gotta have some privacy for this little party.” His breath was hot against my cheek, and the scent of garlic tickled my nose. “Now, cutie, we can do it easy or we can do it hard. It’s your choice.”

  “I’d sooner not do it at all.”

  He laughed and wrestled us both over to the cot. “Oh, that’s not an option. You’re going to do it, all right.” He climbed on top of me and peeled off his ski mask.

  “Now, isn’t this more comfortable?”

  “For you maybe. Your breath makes me want to puke.” I turned my head to the side and gagged.

  “You know, Blondie, you’re a feisty little bitch. I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

  The mask was off. He didn’t care if I could identify him because I wasn’t getting out of here alive.

  With that ghastly thought ringing in my ears, I memorized every feature of his face, from the blue eyes, brown hair, and thin nose down to the small mole right above his lip, just in case I survived.

  I bucked and twisted, breathing hard in an effort to fight him off. He used his free hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

  “Come on, you’ll enjoy it more if you relax and stop struggling.”

  I continued to thrash and wriggle beneath him, growing more desperate with each passing minute.

  Damn it! Why wasn’t the Ambien working?

  Whenever he removed his free hand to tug at his pants, I tried to roll away from him. He’d stop and grab my free hand, and we’d stare at each other, sweating and writhing.

  “Admit it, Blondie, I turn you on. Don’t I?”

  “You’re a pig.”

  He growled. “Aw, now you hurt my feelings. I was only trying to give you a little present.” His pants were low enough to reveal patterned boxer shorts. I felt a hard lump grind into my abdomen.

  I smirked at him. “Little being the operative word.”

  Charlie raised his free hand and slapped me across the mouth. I blinked back tears and choked on bloody saliva.

  “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.” He grabbed at the neckline of my T-shirt and ripped it down the middle.

  While his hand was otherwise occupied, I pushed against him with all of my remaining strength and managed to slide to one side. Anger replaced my fear. “Get off me, you sick pig.”

  “Oh, you like to play rough, huh?” His movements were slowing, fumbling, but his attitude remained belligerent. He made a clumsy swipe at my breasts, trying to unhook my bra, but his finger caught in the gap between the cups and slipped out. “Little bitch. I’ll give you more than you bargained for.”

  “The hell you will.” I brought my knee up hard and connected with his thinly covered “little present.”

  “Aghhhh!”

&n
bsp; “That’s for Brownie, you bastard.”

  His free hand cradled his injured anatomy. I used the heel of my unrestrained hand to smash the underside of his chin and nose. This new wave of pain brought him right off the bed, yanking both of us to the floor. He crawled to his knees but got tangled in his pants and fell flat. I pounced on his back, struggling with him until he stopped whimpering and fell asleep.

  My handcuffed wrist throbbed from the lurch off the bed, but I managed to ignore the pain long enough to locate the key in his pocket. I freed myself and slipped the empty cuff around Charlie’s other wrist. Feeling a lot braver now that he was restrained, I couldn’t resist patting him on the cheek. “I know you like your women feisty, but if that’s your idea of foreplay, forget it.”

  I collected the wool shirt and buttoned it over my shredded T-shirt.

  Bert was asleep at the table when I tiptoed by the kitchen. I hadn’t been able to find my shoes, so I had to watch where I stepped. The back door opened silently. I held my breath and slipped outside. It was late, nearly dark. The yard was a complex maze of shadows. A path, overgrown with weeds and wild flowers, led to a stone wall near some shrubs and old fir trees.

  I took several deep breaths of clear, clean air. Freedom!

  Which way should I go? I flipped a mental coin and chose the right side path. I had taken three or four steps, when a strong arm wrapped around my waist and a hand clamped across my mouth. I bit down on a finger and encountered metal. The gold pinkie ring nearly cracked my tooth.

  “Ouch! How did you get loose?” Designer Suit’s breath tickled my ear.

  I stomped down on his instep. He hopped a bit, but hung on to me. In frustration, I jabbed his ribs with my elbows and kicked back at his shins.

  “Shit!” he said. “Damn it. I’m in no mood for this.”

  We wrestled together in sweaty frustration. “First the goddamned ransom never got transferred, and now this.”

  Panting, I strained to free myself from his determined embrace. I managed to knee him in the groin but not hard enough to incapacitate him.

  His grip loosened, and he let go with a stream of curses that would make a sailor proud. I pulled away from him and ran, all the while fearing the bite of his gleaming switchblade in my back. There was a loud noise from somewhere in front of the cottage. It sounded like a bullhorn. I took a quick glance back and saw for just an instant that Designer Suit had pulled something from under his jacket and was pointing it in my direction.