The Off Grid Survivor Box Set: Complete The Off Grid Survivor Series Books 1-4

by Connor Mccoy

  But Maggiano didn’t act impressed with her physique. He had other things in mind. He popped off the wine bottle’s cork, then poured a little wine into one of the glasses. “Now,” he said, “you will drink that.”

  A bit of confusion washed over Sarah’s features. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting this offer, but she quickly pushed aside her confusion and did as she was told. Maggiano watched as she gulped the drink down her throat.

  “Now, how does it taste?” Maggiano asked, “I want full honesty. No lies.”

  Sarah let out a breath as she stared at the empty glass. “Good.” She licked her lips. “Of course, I’ve had more expensive wines than this.”

  Suddenly, Maggiano laughed. Marco’s skin chilled. What the hell did it mean if Maggiano laughed?

  “It seems your choice of wine is not up to this woman’s high standards. How embarrassing for you, Marco.” Maggiano poured wine in his own glass. Sarah set her glass on the table, but Maggiano quickly poured more in before she could withdraw her hand. Clearly, she was meant to drink more.

  Maggiano and Sarah drank while Marco fumed. Damn her! he thought. And damn him, too! though he did his best to hide his disgust, turning aside so he faced the back wall.

  “You are spared, Marco,” Maggiano said, “Just as long as you find better wine next time, I won’t put you out in the fields.”

  Marco mentally responded with an especially crude private epithet toward Maggiano’s girth and his sexual prowess.

  Maggiano and Sarah both emptied their glasses. “Now,” Maggiano said, “I have another test for you.” His eyes met Sarah’s.

  “You have some promise. But I’ll only know how…” He turned his empty glass in his hand. “…useful you can be once I’ve examined you.”

  A tremor ran through Sarah’s body. She knew what was to come. Marco stepped a little closer. The humiliation would be worth it if he saw this lady in all her glory.

  “Marco, get out.” Maggiano pointed his thumb to the door as Jack stepped behind Sarah with a slight smile, as if this was his expected job, nothing extraordinary for him.

  Marco bit his tongue, least he say something that could turn him into the next Anthony. So, Marco obeyed, though not very quickly. He lingered long enough to see Jack undoing Sarah’s bra, but not to see the garment fall from her body. He knew what would happen, that Maggiano would be carefully examining this woman in the buff to see how she would be best useful to him. However, Marco would be denied the pleasure of her unveiling.

  After he closed the door, he stormed off down the hall, unleashing a torrent of cursing under his breath until he was sure Maggiano was nowhere near close enough to hear them. He was getting sick of Maggiano’s shit. Marco was a business success in his own right, and expected to be treated as something of an equal. Instead, he was no better than an errand boy, a servant, a footstool.

  He strolled through the women’s barracks. He was tired of Maggiano’s rules. Well, Marco was itching to break some of Maggiano’s rules. But he’d do it smart. He wasn’t one of these brain-dead idiots they picked up off the street.

  One of the doors to the girls’ rooms was wide open. Marco peered inside. It was that woman Jack had given that tight dress to. She now was dressed in a slightly-worn beige bathrobe, sitting on her bed. She was brushing her hair. A set of small books lay on a table near her bed, another small touch by Jack. After all, the women had to occupy their time somehow, as Jack said. The thought just enraged Marco again. Jack was trying to worm his way into these ladies’ good graces. They were captives, but hey, Jack was a nice jailer, after all.

  Marco suddenly realized he had a way to work off some steam. And after all, Anthony’s great crime was cutting up the face of the woman he raped. Marco just had to make sure he didn’t cause any obvious damage.

  Outside, a bolt of lightning shook the walls of the warehouse as a storm moved in.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tom’s panting rang in Conrad’s ears. Since the rain finally had started to let up, it was easier for Conrad to hear his traveling companion’s breathing. The pair had trudged through the weather for the past few hours, with Conrad forbidding any rests. He was too close to Sarah, and each step would bring him closer.

  Fortunately, the clouds were on their way out, allowing the sun to shine on them as they finally reached the edge of the warehouse district. Conrad slowed his pace as they approached a street intersection. The street running across was parallel to a group of warehouses up ahead.

  “All right, take five,” Conrad said.

  Tom let out a pained gasp. “God.” He leaned against a street lamppost. “How the hell do you have so much energy?”

  “Only spent an hour a day watching television,” he replied dryly. “Quick, get some snacks in you. We’ve got to get moving again. The sun’s getting pretty low. It’s probably about seven in the evening. We need to find shelter, and soon.”

  “So, I guess we’re not storming the enemy fortress until tomorrow?” Tom said through quick breaths.

  Conrad shook some loose water off his boots. “There’s no way we’re in any shape to fight like we are, plus the men are going to be out and about, and probably more alert.”

  Tom dug into his backpack and pulled out a piece of fruit. He almost savagely chomped down on it. Conrad bit his lip. He had pushed Tom hard to get him all the way here. As much as he didn’t approve of Tom’s actions in losing Sarah, Conrad had to remember that Tom was like almost everyone else, a man who had been living in modern society who was rudely torn out of a world of convenience and dropped in a harsh reality where physical strength and stamina could be the difference between life and death.

  “Refresh my memory,” Conrad said, “Maggiano’s warehouse, it’s on the far side of the district, correct?”

  Having finished wolfing down his fruit, Tom brushed his lips clean with the back of his hand. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Conrad took a few steps down the street to the intersection. As he turned his head past the sign that read Wholesalers Blvd, he spotted a row of warehouses. “Now, this is important. Do you know if all these warehouses are occupied?”

  “Maggiano just has one. Some of these might be owned by his allies, if they haven’t fled town.” Tom took a good look at the line of structures that lay before them. “But Maggiano likes to keep his men close. He won’t spread them out in different warehouses.”

  “So, if anybody’s hanging around these other places, it’s likely just squatters,” Conrad said.

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s squatters or not.” Tom scratched his arm. “It only takes one to rat us out to one of Maggiano’s men and they’ll come for us.”

  “Then we just got to make sure we don’t get spotted. Simple as that. Now, if these guys come out at night, we just have to hunker down until daytime. And for that, we need a good hideout.” Conrad started walking. “And a good place to check out Maggiano’s digs.”

  Tom followed, but not very closely, to Conrad’s annoyance. “You don’t want to go too close to Maggiano’s hideout.”

  “We’ll get as close as we can,” Conrad said firmly, “and you’re going to keep a close eye on the buildings around us. Someone spots us, you holler.”

  As the daylight continued to fade, Tom grew more nervous. He fidgeted every now and then. Conrad could understand, as he didn’t want to stick around in the open for much longer. But even as they passed up three warehouses, Maggiano’s still wasn’t in view.

  If I have to duck into one of these beauties for the night, fine, but I’d rather get a good lookout spot, Conrad thought as he took a fresh survey of the warehouses before him. Surely, they had to be deep into the district by now. “Hey Tom, what’s Maggiano’s warehouse look like?”

  “It’s the biggest one,” Tom said. “Look, when you see it, you won’t have to ask.”

  Before Conrad could inquire further of his companion, something hit the cement behind them. Tom spun around. “What the shit?” His eyes were as wid
e as a frightened animal’s.

  Conrad put his hand on his holster as he took a look around. It was a man with a long beard and torn clothes, clutching glass bottles in his hands. He just had dropped one of them, which shattered on impact. Their new friend simply looked down, muttered a slurred obscenity, and kept on going.

  Tom already was rushing in the opposite direction. “Hey!” Conrad gave chase. “Hold up there.”

  “He probably saw us!” Tom shouted back.

  Conrad caught up with him. “He’s just some drunk. He probably doesn’t even know where the hell he is.”

  “But he’s somebody who’ll talk if they beat it out of him,” Tom said.

  Tom was taking them too far away from the end of the district. Conrad quickly grabbed him by the arm and stopped him cold. Then he stared Tom right in the eye to show him that Conrad was the one guy Tom should be afraid of. “Now you listen. The sun doesn’t have much time to hang around in the sky, so you better help me find a good spot to camp for the night, or you’ll have more than a stumbling drunk to worry about.”

  Tom’s features hardened. “Fine.” He then turned to a space between warehouses. “There. We’ll make good time going straight through there.”

  A few minutes later, the pair emerged onto another street. In the distance, Conrad spotted the biggest warehouse yet. It was massive, spreading across the horizon. He couldn’t make out details, but this was likely Maggiano’s.

  Tom pointed to a warehouse across the street. It was about four stories high. But the good news was there was almost nothing between it and the huge warehouse in the distance. “Try that,” Tom said.

  Conrad took a good look at it. A few windows were facing them. Nobody moved in them. Perhaps it was deserted.

  The sun continued to get lower. Conrad felt in his bones that at any moment Maggiano’s men could show up. They had to check out this place, even if they risked poking a hornet’s nest.

  The big sliding doors were, not surprisingly, closed. Actually, that was very good news. With the power out, they had no ability to shut the doors unless there was a chain crank so it could be done manually. Conrad was thankful they didn’t have to risk the doors being jammed for some reason.

  However, they did encounter some trouble with the small front door. It was locked.

  “Damn, wish Carla was here,” he muttered.

  Tom drew his gun. “Let’s just shoot it off.”

  “Sure, let’s waste ammo on the door,” Conrad said with a chortle. “That’s assuming one shot actually busts the lock open. This ain’t the movies.” Conrad then remembered Carla had left him something that might get them through.

  He pulled out the pin she had left him. “Keep an eye out while I work this door over.” Then he slid the pin inside the keyhole.

  “I may not be the expert Carla is, but I think I can give this a try.” He turned the pin slowly, listening for that ‘click’ that told him the lock was released. “And if I studied Carla correctly, I should be able to…”

  That ‘click’ sounded. Conrad smiled. “There we go!” he said. He turned the knob successfully, opening the door.

  Tom turned and looked at the open door. “Did you say you studied Carla?”

  “Girl’s full of surprises.” Conrad marched into the open doorway. Shaking his head, Tom followed.

  Tom leaned next to Conrad. “See anything?”

  Conrad adjusted the focus of the binoculars. “Little fires being lit. Oh wait, yeah, I see where they’re coming from. Barrels. They’ve got barrels all around the perimeter. Maybe they got some fuel in them, using them for light.”

  Tom scratched his arm. He and Conrad had been very fortunate to find the warehouse totally deserted. Even better, the third floor had an exposed space outside, a platform just under the warehouse’s fourth and final floor. Conrad decided they would camp out on the third floor and use the open space as a lookout. Thanks to their elevated position, Conrad was able to scout out Maggiano’s stronghold even from this distance, which was probably about two hundred yards away at the very least. And with the overhang above their heads, their presence further was obscured from pedestrians below.

  “I guess they’re starting their operations for the night.” Tom paced back and forth behind Conrad.

  “I see some of them coming out now.” Conrad walked to the left a few paces, trying to keep up with some of the men he was spotting outside Maggiano’s warehouse. “Some of them aren’t leaving. They’re walking around the warehouse’s perimeter. Looks like guards.”

  “I guess we can forget about sneaking in,” Tom said.

  “Then we’ll hit them in the morning.” Conrad took off his binoculars, then pulled out a small pad and pen. He drew the best diagram of the outside of Maggiano’s hideout, then planted his finger on the page. “Now, you got any idea of where they’re keeping the women?”

  Tom drew his mouth in as he tilted his head away. An answer didn’t immediately come. Finally, he just said, “They’re in there. God knows where they are exactly. They could be penned in one room or spread out. I just know he wouldn’t keep them where the men are bunking out. Maggiano likes to protect his investment.”

  Conrad studied Tom for a good while longer. It was an okay answer, but not one Conrad fully trusted. Tom may very well be unaware of where Sarah and the women were being held, but the man also could be unwilling to spill what he knew.

  I’m about ready to go into battle with this man, and I have no idea if I can trust him to stay the course, Conrad thought. The thought of giving up a woman to a pack of dirtbags just to save one’s own skin rankled him. Conrad wasn’t the bravest man alive. He’d cop to that. His own distaste for killing nearly cost him his life, and possibly the lives of Liam and Carla as well when he refused to fire on those men in Wynwood. But throwing a woman to the wolves so you don’t get eaten was unthinkable to him. Sure, you’d likely die in a woman’s stead. Perhaps you wouldn’t be able to save the woman at all. But there were some things worse than death. Conrad was about to find out if Tom believed that.

  “All right, what about where the men are?” Conrad asked, “Can you give me that much?”

  “I wish I could tell you. Look, all I know about that place is before the world went to hell. It’s a food storage warehouse. It’s not supposed to be a bad guy’s hideout from a freaking James Bond movie. Whatever he’s done, he’s done it after the fact.”

  “Alright.” Conrad turned his attention to the pad. “Then let’s start with what you do know and go from there.”

  Jack strolled down the hallway through the women’s barracks, checking to see if the rooms were locked for the night. Even with the iron-barred door that closed off the women’s quarters from the men’s, Jack didn’t want to take any chances that some of the men would be stupid enough to indulge themselves even with the fear of Maggiano’s wrath hanging over their heads.

  That’s not something I have to worry about, Jack thought. He treated the women very well, which surely made Maggiano happy. His earlier apprehension over Anthony’s execution seemed comical now. What would Jack do to piss off Maggiano? It was ludicrous.

  Almost all of the doors were shut. The women knew the routine by now. One or two of them were still night owls. Fortunately, Jack didn’t have to do much other than peek his head in and smile to let them know it was time to lock up for the evening.

  He took great pleasure in the fact that his presence wasn’t always greeted with dread. In fact, he was certain he had the best relationship with their women. He even thought of himself as their protector.

  As he checked the final open door, his mood quickly soured. This room belonged to the girl he had put in that tight dress earlier this morning. Ordinarily, she was a content, even bubbly, young lady. Now she was sitting on her bed clutching her covers close to her body. Her face was red. She had been crying.

  Jack’s suspicions immediately flared up. He stepped inside and worked his little “magic” on her, putting on the most
soothing voice possible to pump the story out of her.

  Marco reclined in the seat under the overhang on the warehouse’s south side. He looked at the liquor bottle next to him. As he twisted the cork, he muttered, “Get him better wine next time.” He popped it off and took a swig. “Find your own drink, you fatass!”

  Rapid footfalls prevented him from lifting the bottle again. Jack came storming up. “You…” Jack jabbed a finger in his direction. “You have a death wish.”

  Marco laughed. “What’s wrong, Jack?”

  Jack stopped and looked at him. “I ought to tear your balls off and force them down your throat.”

  “Damn, Jack, you’re almost starting to sound tough.” Marco raised the bottle and took a good, hard drink in front of Jack. He kept his palette full for a bit, bloating his cheeks, hoping he was pissing Jack off even more.

  “Maggiano is going to gut you like a fish,” Jack retorted. “You just hurt one of his girls. That’s damaging his property.”

  Marco finally swallowed. “Damaging his property? I trust you’ve seen our lady friend in all of her glory.” He made a fist and thumped his chest.

  “I assure you, she is still in prime physical condition.” Then he smiled venomously. “Besides, how are you going to prove anything? You think Maggiano cares if one of his broads just cries rape? He’ll probably put a nail in your head for wasting his time.”

  After taking another drink, Marco continued his riff. “Or maybe you just think you’re some kind of gentleman. Well, you know what, Jack? If you hadn’t made her look good in that dress, maybe she wouldn’t be having a bad day now.”

  He raised the bottle to his lips, but now found it dry. Shrugging, he raised it high. “Think about that, Jack.” He then turned and slammed the bottle against the wall. The glass promptly busted open in the middle, showering the wall with many small glass pieces. Then he walked away. “Have a good night. Try not to hurt yourself.”