Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (116 page)

A security or cop car, she couldn’t tell which, turned
toward them and Sydney eased on down the road. They turned back up to the main
highway and headed back.

“You’re right,” Marco said. “The only way will have to be by
boat.”

“Right now, I need that Jacuzzi and some wine.” She couldn’t
help thinking maybe a massage wouldn’t be a bad idea, too, though she hadn’t
said it again. A massage would be really nice, and she had an idea he would do a
good job on her abused body.

What the hell? she thought. We came this far—maybe we should
seal this relationship while we’re reasonably alive and well.

42

Nothing clears the mind like a long shower,
Kora
North thought, lifting her face up into the rush of water as if it might wash
away this crazy day.

A little earlier, she’d briefly contemplated suicide, but
not too seriously, though she did have hypnotic sleeping pills and figured she
could take a bottle of them with enough vodka to kill a couple truck drivers.
But suicide wasn’t her thing. So, changing her mind, she chose a shower and a
big glass of wine to help her think about the mess she was in.

Because, why did everything in her life end up like this?

I’m cursed, she decided.

In the shower, she again contemplated running. Playing it
out. Back and forth. Where? How long before they hunted her down? Girl like her
couldn’t hide easily. She’d have to get a protector and, once again, she’d be
under some guy’s control until he got tired of her.

She reached her arm out and found the glass of wine on the
vanity. She drank half the glass, then put it back down, returning to the shower
for a moment, luxuriating in the flow of water over her perfect body. The feel
of a thousand tiny fingers on her flawless flesh.

So many grubby, grasping fingers on her, in her—no water
could wash those memories away!

She dried off and entered her bedroom, fresh and feeling
better, wearing nothing, the nearly empty glass of wine in her hand. And there
stood a shocking, frightened creature in the middle of her bedroom. He had a
bloated face like some movie monster.

“Jesus!”

“Not quite,” he muttered.

Naked, glass in hand, she stared at this horror, the man’s
face all discolored and swollen. Then she saw a gun hanging in his hand by his
side and she knew she was dead. She knew it had to be the guy Marco had beat up,
the professional who’d killed Shaun and got into that fight. Shaun must have
told him she was coming over. Maybe he’d seen her there from up in the woods.

Fuck, it is him, she thought. Is this how it ends?

She couldn’t deal with that, so she threw the wineglass at
him, ran back into the bathroom, and locked the door. Then she went to the
window, wondering if she could get out. She’d probably kill herself on the
sidewalk or break something and he’d just kill her there.

Her body naked, bloody. People staring. We knew it would end
badly for her, they’d say.

She didn’t even have time to formulate a real plan. The man
kicked open the door and stood there looking at her, rheumy eyes raking her
body. She swung at this mad clown’s wrecked face. He grabbed her hand with one
hand, put the gun to her face with the other.

“Go ahead!” she screamed at him. “You bastard, you want to
kill me, do it! I don’t want any sick shit while I’m alive, okay? Just know
this, I’m glad you did that miserable prick Shaun Corbin. I appreciated that.”

That seemed to have a strange influence on him, because he
released her hand and stepped back, as if surprised about something.

Her .32 was still in her bag, along with the money, and was
on a chair in the living room. She tried to remember if she’d even reloaded it.
Damn that Marco guy. He’d taken the bullets out. They’d left her defenseless.
They hadn’t protected her. So much for being their inside girl.

Horror-face tried to talk, seemed like he couldn’t. He waved
a gun at her, motioning her to go to the living room. She grabbed the silk robe
from the back of the bathroom door and put it on as he watched. He followed her
into the living room, then settled gingerly on the couch against the far wall,
facing the small bar. She sat on the chair at the end of the couch, their eyes
fixed tight on one another.

“They really fucked you up, didn’t they?” she said.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then glanced at the
large picture above the small bar. Cost her three grand. A western scene—bunch
of cowboys in a bar fight over a big-breasted girl wearing only a black cowboy
hat and black boots.

He got up, went to the bar, and made himself a drink, but
that didn’t work out very well. Ended up all over his chin. She told him there
were straws under the counter.

He got one and was able to get it in his mouth. He sucked
the alcohol in with a slurping sound. When he finally spoke, his lips hardly
moved at all, his jaw didn’t move at all. She had to lean forward to understand
his garbled voice.

“You…” He paused. Gathered himself. “Jesup. How are you and
her…connected?” His voice was raspy and low like an old, dying man’s voice.

“We’re not connected,” Kora said with defensive anger,
shifting her legs, pulling the thin robe tighter, trying to maintain an icy,
calm demeanor. “They grabbed me and wanted to know things. I don’t know things.
They left me here alone. Fuck them.”

She was furious at them for putting her in this situation.
If they wanted to use her so bad, they should have done more to protect her.

He looked at her and she thought that’s wasn’t a good enough
answer. She’d given up nothing to trade with. She added, thinking fast, “That’s
not exactly true.” She had to have something he needed, something he needed
right away before he got crazy on her.

She said, “Actually, they want me to help them out…this plan
they have. I know exactly what they’re going to do and when they plan on doing
it. They have a hold on me for my cooperation. It’s not like I want to help them
out. They have recordings, video that might put me in prison.”

He stared at her. A black and yellow swath of ruin ran from
his lower jaw right to the corner of his bloodshot eyes. He looked like the face
from hell.

“What are they planning?” he murmured, voice barely a
whisper and his eyes jumping weird, like the lights in his brain were
flickering. Fucking guy was something out of a monster video game.

“Yeah, like I’d tell you so then you kill me and go your
merry way. That’s gonna happen. I need something in return.”

She studied him the way you’d study a coiled rattler. The
distance of the potential strike.

He was deciding something. Was she valuable enough to keep
alive or not? What was it he wanted most? He didn’t kill her right away. So it
wasn’t her. It was
them
!
He’s after them, not me,
she thought.
I’m just a means to that end.
She had to play that card.

He couldn’t kill Thorp’s Daisy. No way.

Desperate to keep him on the track of her survival, she
repeated herself in case he didn’t get it the first time. Then she said, “They
want me to work with them. They threatened to kill me if I didn’t. Then they
told me what they have planned. Don’t think you can beat it out of me. Or scare
me. You can’t. If I’m gonna die…one thing I’m not going to do is give another
asshole any satisfaction. You need to understand that.”

He almost smiled, tried to anyway, then mumbled, “Tell me…”

Screw that, she thought. Once he gets whatever information I
can give him, this psychopath bastard is going to put a bullet right in my
forehead like he did Shaun. Maybe that was Thorp’s order. He could find fifty
Daisys to replace her if he wanted.

She changed direction. “You have a name?” Kora asked.
Anything to connect.

He whispered something she couldn’t make out. Sounded like
Lee…On
.

I’m going to be killed by a guy with a fucking Chinese
name?
Behind that wrecked face, was he Chinese? No. Maybe it was just he
couldn’t get it out.

She’d had moments in her life like this. The first time she
was raped and thought the guy would kill her. Somehow she’d got free of him,
fighting and biting and clawing—and he’d given up and ran off. And there was the
time somebody stuck a gun in her mouth and threatened to blow her head off. She
was fourteen. She’d known these and many other moments, and surviving them made
her street tough and street smart.

But this was the first time she’d come face to face with a
real professional killer. The kind like you see in movies. Only those are just
actors.

She needed to keep talking, get him thinking her way, so she
said, “I’m assuming Thorp and Rouse are the ones who hired you to get Jesup.
That’s your mission, isn’t it?”

He stared.

“I might be able to help you with that. You want to know how
they’re going to take them down. And when. Then you need to play it my way. I’m
in a position”—this occurred to her like a flash of genius—”where I can hand
them to you on a silver platter. Make your life a lot easier. But it’ll cost you
leaving me alive. That’s a fair trade.”

“You can do that…silver platter?” he whispered.

She thought he wanted to smile at the idea, but couldn’t
handle the pain it would bring.

“I can. I think you know by now they aren’t some joke like
Shaun was. This guy you’re up against, he’s the real deal.”

She was playing him now. Challenging him. She pushed it.

“This guy is a badass. Maybe worse than you, by the looks of
things. He’s a Mexican stone-cold killer. You want to take him on without
knowing anything, in the dark about what they got planned, good luck to you. I
can help you, but do I look like a girl does things for free?”

He waited, the gun now resting on his thigh, eyes fixed on
her. Fixed on her eyes, her mouth, drifting up and down.

“I didn’t get your name. Sounded Chinese.”

She leaned in when he said it this time.

“Leon.”

“Leon. Got it.” Then she said, “What they plan will surprise
you. To say nothing of Thorp and Rouse. Jesup’s determined to get Thorp if it’s
the last thing she does in this life. I know what they’re gonna do. You can kill
me, but what good will that do you? Like I said, you can’t scare it out of me.
I’ve been down that road too many times.”

She figured she had his full attention now. Working him.
“Those two have some tapes, things that can hurt me real bad, and I want them
back. They’re using them to make me help them.”

“Blackmailing you…help them.”

“That’s exactly right. That’s the name of the game around
this stinking lake.”

“Beautiful eyes,” he said.

This psycho gonna shoot me in the eye?

She was thinking fast and coming up empty now, not sure how
to play this. If she had to use a weapon, if her play didn’t work, the only
weapon she could see was the corkscrew wine opener. If she could get to that and
jam it in his throat, or his eye…

But he suddenly zoned out, his eyes glazed over. Then he
snapped back. He reached for the bottle, poured himself another JD, and pulled
out some pills. He put two of them in his mouth, pushing them in with a finger,
then used the straw and sucked down some whiskey.

“You got a cigarette?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t like people smoking inside. I always go
out on the patio.”

He waved the gun at her. “Get me a cigarette.”

“I have a pack in my bag.”

“What’s that?” he pointed to the table behind her. “Oh,” she
said, hating that she’d left a pack of cigarettes on the bar.

She lit a cigarette and handed it to him. Then one for
herself.

“Like I said,” as smoke drifted from her nostrils, “Whatever
happens to me, just know I’m glad you killed that prick Shaun Corbin. I want to
thank you for that.”

She wasn’t kidding about that one bit. This killer looked
really bad, like he was drifting off. “I’d give you the best blow job of your
life for doing it, but you don’t look like you could take anything too exciting
right now.”

He tried to smile. Tried to talk, but he wasn’t looking like
he was all there. Then the killer suddenly laid his head back against the corner
of the couch.

What the hell’s this?

The killer was out cold. The gun on his lap, cigarette about
to burn his stomach. She grabbed the cigarette and put it in one of the big
shell ashtrays on the coffee table. Then she eased the gun from his hand.

Kora North had thought a thousand times what it would be
like to put a bullet in some bastard’s head. And now she had the opportunity. It
gave her a giddy feeling, but also one of uncertainty.

How to dispose of the body and how not to get blood all over
her beautiful couch? She couldn’t decide what to do. And that seemed in her mind
to sum up her miserable life.
Why?
It made no sense not to do it. Yet
something held her back.

Then she nearly laughed out loud. The guy had fallen back
and she realized he had this erection blooming in his pants. Her sense of dark
humor gripped her. The utter absurdity of her existence and her effect on men
stunned her at times. A guy comes to kill her but falls unconscious with a hard
on. She’d tell the girls in the bar she did a goner with a boner, or something
like that.

Whack-city is where I live, she thought.

Then it was decision time. She had to think this out.
Consider all the ramifications of whatever she chose. And why it was even a
question in her mind.

To kill or not to kill.

Do it!
she told herself.
Do it!

43

The Jacuzzi and massage never happened, and neither did any
kind of sealing their bond doing something pleasurable. Instead, Sydney got a
call from her police-reporter friend right after they returned to the Shaws’
telling her that Cillo’s body had been found.