After Midnight (39 page)
He grabbed me through the front of my bra, squeezed my nipple and lifted. Both my hands were free. I didn’t try to fight him, though. Wincing, I went up on tiptoes and kept my hands down by my sides. Instead of begging him to stop, I hissed through my teeth and glared at him.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, keeping his grip. “We’re going to climb out of the pool, then have ourselves a nice party. Margaritas and barbecued steaks. You have my permission to marinate them. Say thank you.”
“Thank you,” I gasped.
“This could be a very pleasant experience for both of us.”
“I bet.”
He pinched me.
I flinched and tears ran down my face.
“You made me do that, Alice. And I
enjoyed
doing it. Did you enjoy it?”
“No.”
“Then why did you make me do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you like me to do it again?”
“No.”
“I can even do worse. Much worse.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be good. I promise.”
“You’ll be my good girl?”
“Yes.”
“My sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Yes.”
He pinched me again. I jerked rigid with the pain, and cried out. He squeezed even harder. Writhing, I arched my spine and threw back my head. Tears spilled down my face.
And I felt his tongue.
Even as he kept pinching me, he licked the tears off my cheeks.
Finally, he let go of my nipple. He put his arm around my back and I sagged against him, sobbing. His hand caressed my back gently.
I thought about taking a bite out of his neck.
I could probably kill him if I did it well.
But he had the sword underwater in his right hand. Even mortally wounded, he could kill me with it in an instant.
Just wait, I told myself. Do everything he says. Be his good girl, his sweetheart, his slave, his whore, his anything-he-wants-me-to-be.
Sooner or later, I’ll get him.
I’ll get him good.
He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
Hasn’t got a clue.
But he’ll find out the hard way.
His hand slid down below the waistband of my panties, and gave my bare buttock a squeeze. “So,” he said, “are we ready to enjoy our party?”
“I’m ready,” I said.
I must’ve said it okay, because he didn’t hurt me.
“Let’s climb out of the pool,” he said. “You go first. I’ll be right behind you. Do everything I tell you to—without hesitation or wisecracks—and we’ll have ourselves a merry time. I might even allow you to live.”
He let go of me, then stepped out of my way and gestured for me to step past him.
As I waded, I looked for Elroy’s head.
I spotted it a couple of yards to my left, hovering just above the tile bottom of the pool, staring straight up as if he were trying to figure the best way of reaching the surface.
Poor bastard.
He’d been a schmuck, but he didn’t deserve this.
I glared at Steve, but kept my mouth shut and waded on past him. At the wall of the pool, I braced myself with both hands and boosted myself up.
Steve swatted me across the ass with the saber.
Crying out, I flung myself over the edge and scurried to my feet. I hobbled away from the pool, clutching my buttocks. They felt as if they’d been lashed, but not slashed. There was no cut. He must’ve used the flat side of the blade.
“Looks count, too,” he informed me.
When I turned around, he was just standing up.
I kept rubbing my butt.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” I said.
“That’s a good one, coming from you.”
I gaped at him. “What’re you talking about?”
“You can’t play innocent with me, honey. I saw what you did last night.”
“What I did?”
“You’re about as cold-blooded as they come.” He smirked. “Maybe that’s why I find myself so strangely attracted to you. Let’s go inside, now. Take me to the kitchen.”
I turned around and saw the trail of blood leading to the den’s open door. “Okay if we go in the other way?” I asked.
“Suit yourself.”
“May I please get dressed?” I asked.
“You may not. I like you just the way you are. Let’s go.”
I led the way alongside the house, stepped behind the table and chairs, and slid open the living-room door. Steve followed me into the house.
Glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “What do you think you saw me do last night?”
“I saw what you
did
do. Involving the sword and a certain unlucky young man who came to your door.”
“I thought he was you.”
“Isn’t
that
a fine how-do-you-do?”
“Well, you had me scared.”
Entering the kitchen, I expected to find Elroy’s headless body on the floor. But it wasn’t there. Nor did I see any blood or signs of a struggle.
“Go ahead and marinate the steaks,” Steve said. “I know you prefer them that way.”
“You were spying on us?” I asked, heading for the cupboard where Serena kept her sauces.
“You might say that.”
“Where were you?”
“Trade secret.”
I took down the bottle of teryaki, found a platter, and stepped over to the counter where I’d left the steaks. I tried to pry them apart, but they were still frozen together. “Can you get them apart?” I asked Steve.
“They’ll come apart in the natural course of time.”
“Thanks.”
“That comes perilously close to a wisecrack.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”
“Better watch yourself.”
“I will,” I said. I placed the steaks on the platter, drenched them with teryaki sauce, picked them up rubbed them with both hands to make sure they were wet everywhere, then put them back into the platter.
My hands were dripping with the spicy brown liquid. As I turned toward the sink, Steve said, “Wait. I’ll lick them clean.”
So I held out both my hands, fingers open and spread. Steve licked and sucked them.
It seemed like a weird thing to do—like licking my tears off. But I’ve got to admit, it felt pretty good. Especially when he sucked each one of my fingers all the way into his mouth. In other circumstances, it might’ve been a real turnon. For instance, if someone like Murphy had been doing it to me. With Steve, I was too scared to enjoy it very much.
I had a big worry, for one thing, that he might bite one of my fingers off.
For another, I figured he had terrible plans for me, for later on.
As the last finger slurped out of his mouth, he smiled and said, “Yummy. You’re delicious.”
I almost said,
“Eat me,”
but stopped myself in the nick of time.
Instead, I said, “Thanks.”
“Now you may go ahead and wash your hands, if you like.”
I turned to the sink. I used soap and hot water on them. While I was drying my hands on a dish towel, Steve buzzed the blender a few times.
Then he said, “Get me out a clean glass. I wouldn’t want to use Elroy’s. Might catch something.”
“Like what?”
“I wouldn’t know. But he must’ve been gravely ill. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Hilarious, I thought.
Keeping my mouth shut, I took down a clean glass for Steve. He lifted the pitcher of frothy margarita off the blender.
“Do you want salt on your rim?” I asked.
“I take my rims without.”
“Healthier that way.”
He chuckled. “Do you really suppose I’m worried about my
health?
With my lifestyle, I’m looking forward to a lethal injection—or perhaps a bullet—but certainly not hardening of the arteries.”
“And what lifestyle is that?”
“I like to think of myself as a ‘thrill-killer.’”
“Charming,” I muttered.
“Now, march,” he said.
“Where?”
“Out to the table. It’s time for the Happy Hour.”
I stepped past him and left the kitchen. On our way across the living room, I asked, “Did you get a thrill out of killing Elroy?”
“Not particularly, though it was amusing. I killed him because he was an obstacle in the way of you.”
“Where is he?”
“Here and there.”
“I know where his head is,” I pointed out. “Where’s the rest of him?”
“Already worrying about clean-up?”
“I just want to know.”
“He’s in the guest bathroom.”
“You killed him in the bathroom?”
“Standing at the toilet, as a matter of fact. Took him completely by surprise. I’m afraid his aim got thrown off when he lost his head. Pissed all over the place. But he finally fell into the tub. Would you like to see?”
“No thanks.”
“Remarkable woman,” Steve said as he filled my glass from the pitcher.
“Who is?”
“You, of course.”
“What do you know about it?” I said.
He poured margarita into his own glass, then placed the pitcher on the table. “More than you might think,” he said. Before sitting down, he moved his chair around to the other side of the table.
He lowered the saber and leaned it against the side of his left thigh. Probably so he could go for it quickly with his right hand by reaching across his lap. The sword version of a cross-draw.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, and took a sip. “Very good margarita.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a fine figure of a woman.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And extremely dangerous.”
I smiled sweetly.
“I’ve never run into a woman like you before. And, I must say, neither had Milo.”
“
Milo?
”
“Alas, poor Milo. We were partners, you know. Well, not exactly partners. Let’s say Milo was my mentor. Until you killed him.”
“Killed him? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please,” he said. Fortunately, he seemed amused, not angry. “Spare me the innocent routine. I saw you do it.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Where do you think? At our camp in the woods.”
“You were
there
?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You must really get around,” I said.
A smile spread over his face. “I do, I do. It’s my specialty. Getting around. Coming and going. In a most sneaky fashion.”
“You weren’t very sneaky last night in the pool.”
“That doesn’t count. I
wanted
you to see me.”
“Sure you did.”
“Watch out, you’re treading close to sarcasm. I may have to hurt you.”
“You’re going to kill me, anyway.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Sure.”
He leaned forward slightly in his chair, and something gouged my leg.
“Ow!” I scooted back my chair and looked down. On the side of my left calf, I now had a small, crescent-shaped wound. Made, probably, by the nail of Steve’s big toe.
“Real nice,” I said.
“Be my good girl and these things won’t happen.”
“I’m trying.”
“Not hard enough. When I tell you something, accept it.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I was
supposed
to see you last night.”
“That’s right. You
only
see me when you’re supposed to.”
“Okay.”
Grinning, he said, “Do you know that I spied on you yesterday afternoon?”
“No. Did you?”
“Absolutely. For a couple of hours. And you were completely unaware of my presence.”
“But I’m sure you were there.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Sorry,” I said.
“You were sunning yourself by the pool,” he said. “A vision. That’s when I decided I must have you.” He frowned. “Not me so much as Milo, actually.”
“You wanted me for
him?
That fat, disgusting slob?”
“He always got firsties. That was our arrangement. I would’ve gotten you after he was done.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Cheer up. He won’t get firsties anymore, thanks to you.”
“Good.”
“I could almost feel sorry for him. He was very much looking forward to you.”
“Is that so? Was he here, too?”
“Oh, no. I discovered you all on my own.”
“Where was Milo?”
“Back at camp with Marilyn.”
Marilyn? Must’ve been the dead woman in Milo’s tent.
The woman he’d been eating.
Had Steve been at her, too? I didn’t want to think about it. “If Milo was at the camp,” I said, “how could he be looking forward to me?”
“Oh, I went back and told him all about you. And, of course, I showed him the photos.”
“
What
photos?”
“I took Polaroids of you.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not in the least. I always take snapshots of our special gals.” Grinning, he said, “Before
and
after.”
“After?”
“You know.”
“Jeez.”
“We have quite a striking collection, really. We? Hum. It’s just me, now. I’m going to miss that big galoot. There may be lonely times ahead.” He drank some more of his margarita.
“So you not only spied on me yesterday afternoon, you also took pictures of me?”
“Exactly. I got several excellent shots, too. Close-ups. For a few of them, I was
this
close to you.”
“How close?”
“As close as I am now.”
Three feet?
“No way,” I said.
“Oh, yes way. I’m very good at sneaking about.”
“Those cameras are noisy.”
“I didn’t say you were awake at the time. Let me tell you, your snoring was considerably louder than the camera. You were asleep right
there
,” he said, and pointed at the nearby padded lounger where I’d napped, off and on, through much of yesterday afternoon. “When you weren’t asleep,” he said, “you were drinking Bloody Marys, reading a John D. MacDonald book called
A Tan and Sandy Silence
, and…”
“Okay, I get the picture. You were here.”
“You interrupted me.”
“I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
“I was about done, anyway.”
“What else did you do while I was asleep?”
“Nothing.”
“You didn’t…touch me at all?”
