Chapter Seventeen

“You helped Percy at his shop.” Locked in the passenger seat of her captor’s truck with her wrists tied, Melia got her first clear look at the man who’d taken her. “He picked up the habit of spitting from you. His wife didn’t like it.”

“Hey, we all have our things.”

She had to keep him talking. She couldn’t, wouldn’t give in to the panic scrambling in her belly. Forcing herself to breathe, she asked, “Why the bear grease in your hair, and the camouflage on your face?”

“It’s a disguise, doc. Use your brains. I know you have ’em. As AJ, I’m just like any other worker you’d see around town. Curly haired, with plenty of empty real estate between my ears. But then I’m the Hulk, and man, I’m mean when I’m green. I’d show you just how mean if I hadn’t been promised a fat bonus for delivering you in the best possible condition.”

“Did you hurt Percy?”

“Fuck no, only Felcher. And some other asshole who was poking around outside your clinic before I blew it up. He offered me a drink. I whacked him on the head. Then the building blew. So long, asshole.”

Her temper flared, momentarily blotting out fear. “Are people like you born without hearts, or do they get squeezed out by greed later in life?”

Grinning, he whipped his gun up. “I can shoot off one of your ears, drive this truck, and answer your question all at the same time. Wanna see me do it?” He snickered when she fell silent. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Despite the terror jittering inside her, Melia recognized the area of swamp they were driving through. They’d passed Steve Saxon’s place a while ago. The trees and bushes were thickening, and the ground was becoming boggy and uneven. Black clouds blocked the stars and moon, and they’d left any street lights back in Deception Cove.

She’d shut Gomer and Pepper in a room upstairs so her patients wouldn’t be disturbed. God only knew what condition Laidlaw might be in. And Johnny…

Releasing a shuddery breath, she told herself he’d come. He’d find her. She had no idea how, but he would. She needed to believe that or fear would simply overwhelm her.

The man, AJ, ignored her after that. He glanced over a few times and chuckled, but as for talking…no.

Pressing her lips together, Melia watched the trees and knolls roll by. At one point, Spanish moss covered the truck’s windshield.

They were deep in the swamp then, but she smelled more than the rich spice of plant life. Stills carried a scent all their own, especially when they were up and running.

It made sense when she thought about it. Smack in the middle of nowhere. Water all around. Cut off from the nearest neighbor and miles from town.

“You’ve been making moonshine,” she said as AJ slowed his truck to a crawl.

“You better believe it.” He winked at her. “The old man’s equipment’s piecemeal, but it gets the job done. When I leave here, stuff I’m brewin’s coming with me. Might be a bit green, but people I know back home won’t care. Bonus,” he added, wiggling his brows at her. “Why should an old man with an itchy trigger finger be the only one making money?”

“Is he making money?” Melia didn’t really care. She just kept willing Johnny to show up.

AJ snorted. “Damn right, he is. Had a passel of it in a cupboard under the sugar sack. Folks in Deception Cove like to drink shine. And they pay good greenbacks to get it.” He nodded forward. “Looks like we’re not the first to arrive.”

Melia’s stomach jumped. Three very large men, all carrying assault rifles, strolled back and forth outside Pappy Laundy’s shack house. She didn’t see any vehicles, but lamps shone inside, and at least one shadow passed in front of the partly patched window.

“Satyr,” AJ informed her. He spit on the floor of the truck that time and offered no apology. “I hope you got a high tolerance for pain, doc. Way I heard tell, my boss’s boss came in carrying a big backpack of goodies.”

Not going to panic. But AJ’s low chuckle didn’t help her nerves in any way.

He parked with a jerk of brakes, got out, and came around to the passenger door. For a moment, the sleeve of his T-shirt pulled up, and she spotted a large, black birthmark on his arm. And above that was a long scab that could have come from a bullet graze. Pappy’s bullet?

“Tell Satyr she’s here,” he said to one of the men.

“Tell him yourself,” the guard returned. “We’re on watch and not supposed to let ourselves be distracted.”

AJ smiled at her. “You hear that, doc? I guess if you’re thinking about doing a striptease in the hopes of making a getaway, you can pretty much forget it. Not that I’d mind, but…” He used his head to motion at the shack. “Time’s a-wastin’. You got any balls tucked away in those jeans of yours, now’d be a real good time to strap ’em on.” Raising his gun, he turned her toward the shack and gave her a shove with the barrel. “Because lady, you’re about to walk through the front door of hell.”

…

Johnny didn’t go anywhere right away. He ran upstairs, found Gomer, then brought the dog with him as he climbed into his truck.

“Could be Satyr’ll take her back to Las Vegas.” Laidlaw rubbed the bump on his head in annoyance. “He lives there, right?”

“He has a casino there and a condo somewhere near the strip. He won’t take the time to get her there. If Mockerie’s involved—ninety-nine percent sure he is—he won’t want to waste any more time. They’ll both be here.”

Johnny’s mind continued to spin. He had to get inside Satyr’s head. Unfortunately, he also needed to get inside Mockerie’s. Two minds, one goal. Two different methods of approach.

“Fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “One agenda. Death. Two ways of reaching that goal, but the key is Melia’s death. They’ll need somewhere remote.”

“Chicken farmer’s house, maybe? Or that other place where the guy lives with all his kids?”

Johnny shook his head. “They’ll want obscure. The handyman’s son’s shack is in the back of beyond, but they wouldn’t know about it.”

“The campsite?”

“Too open.” Glancing at the dog in the back of the truck, Johnny considered. AJ would be familiar with the area by then. He’d been trespassing. He’d put a bullet in Pappy Laundy’s foot. He’d been shot at, and bitten by Pappy’s dog. He knew Pappy’s place was empty. And it was sure as hell remote.

He started the truck, drove down the long driveway, and swung the wheel hard to the left.

Laidlaw winced and adjusted his balance. “I take it something’s come to you.”

Lightning turned the moss-laden trees into ghosts. “Yeah, something,” Johnny muttered. “I only hope to Christ I’m right.”

…

AJ pushed her through the creaking door. It was hell all right, Melia thought, with both demon and master in attendance, seated at either end of Pappy Laundy’s wood table.

She recognized Satyr instantly from the description Johnny had given her. Slicked-back hair, scarred face, smarmy, ferret-like features. He wore black—shirt, pants, and shoes. Everything matched, even the patch that covered his right eye.

“Pretty, pretty,” he said and smiled at her. “Johnny has excellent taste.”

At first glance, the other man appeared far less slimy. His jeans were faded and almost worn through at the stress points. A black cotton jacket covered a plain white tee, and his tan boots were ground down at the heel. A hat with a broad brim concealed most of his face, but she saw his teeth when, like Satyr, he smiled at her. Good teeth, she reflected distantly, nice jaw. Who knew? He might have been a handsome man, if the aura that surrounded him hadn’t all but slapped her in the face.

Evil. It was the first thought that struck her. She swore the smell of it oozed from his pores.

Outside, the thunder crept closer. Melia kept her eyes on Mockerie. He was playing with a carved silver ring on what remained of his left middle finger.

Lightning flashed, filling the single room with an eerie white glow. There and gone in a heartbeat.

Melia’s own heart beat so hard, she was surprised it didn’t pound right through her chest. Would Johnny think of this? And if he did, would she be alive when he arrived?

Would he survive, or go rogue and die trying to kill Satyr and Mockerie?

Enough, she ordered herself, and focused on Satyr. For reasons she preferred not to analyze, however, her gaze kept drifting back to Mockerie.

He picked up a knife from the table, flicked it open and closed while Satyr chuckled softly.

“We have but one purpose here tonight, Melia. To watch you die. I’m going to let James do the honors, but I promise you, the pleasure at the end of it will be all mine.”

She drew controlled breaths. She had to stall, but how? What in God’s name would slow down the actions of a sadist?

“I thought men like you were target specific,” she managed as the silence and the low thunder that eventually underscored it stretched out. “A lot of people could have been killed when my clinic blew up.”

Satyr’s smile widened. “Do you think either of us care about that?”

“Oh, come now, Ben. I care.” Mockerie spoke for the first time. He had a rather pleasant voice, but the flicking knife had icy shafts of terror shooting up and down her spine. “Wasted death is a tragedy to me. No one should die who hasn’t screamed themselves senseless first. After all”—he flicked the knife open—“we enter the world screaming”—and closed as he looked at Melia. “Why not exit it in the same manner?”

Was she supposed to answer that? He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response.

“Is that how you hope to exit the world?” The words made it out, but with very little volume. Melia sucked up a portion of her terror. Was there any way to end this nightmare? Anything she could say to him that might slow the process down? She watched his face, saw his jaw working. In anticipation? “It’s not about death at all for you, is it?” she said. “It’s suffering that gives you pleasure.”

Mockerie’s smile returned. He pointed at Satyr. “Talk to him, Dr. Rose. I’m only the instrument of his revenge. An avid one, but an instrument all the same.”

The lamps they’d lit trembled with the next peal of thunder.

“Guard the door,” Satyr instructed AJ. “We don’t want any uninvited guests dropping by and spoiling our party.”

Satyr looked nervous. Melia watched him rub his palms together for the third time.

“We really need to get this done, James.” He shot a look at the patched window. “Johnny Hunt is far from predictable.”

Mockerie’s smile grew to grotesque proportions. “So am I,” he said softly. He flicked the knife open and left it there to gleam in the lamplight. Tilting his head to one side, he angled the blade at Melia. “You remind me a little of my late wife. Around the eyes, the shape of them, and maybe the mouth.”

Is that good?

The blade embedded itself in the tabletop, jammed in by a furious hand. “I never had a chance to make the bitch scream. I’ll pretend you’re her and imagine she’s screaming with you.”

Definitely not good. She backed up a step when it looked as though he was going to throw the knife he yanked free at some part of her.

“Let’s get his done.” He thumped the table. “Right here,” he told AJ. “I want her placed faceup so I can see the terror. Inhale it. Live it.”

AJ gave her a rough push. “You heard the man, doc.”

Desperate, she looked at Satyr. His edginess had increased, but there was no chance he’d go against the wishes of his employer. His fingertips tapped lightly on the table. When AJ gave her another hard shove, he stood and crossed to the window. “The hair on the back of my neck is prickling, James. We really need to get this done.”

Mockerie aimed the knife at him. “Your agenda.” Then pointed it at himself. “My agenda. No surprise, Ben, mine wins. Relax and experience your wrath all over again. Savor it. Tell the lady about the screwed-up escape attempt that landed you back in that Iraqi prison for eighteen months.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Satyr fired a visual dagger in her direction. “The woman I loved is dead because of Johnny. I could have been there for her, but I wasn’t. Johnny got away. I didn’t. She died. The universe and your husband owe me. Tonight, he’s going to pay for all of that. Do as Mockerie says, AJ. Get her on the table now!”

She fought, but AJ locked his arms around her from behind, eluded the kicks she leveled at his shins, and deposited her on the tabletop. He gave her knees a hard bang with his fist to straighten her legs.

“I’d suggest using gorilla tape on this one, Mr. M. She fights like a fucking wildcat.”

“Yes, I see that.” He pressed the knife to her throat. “Maybe this will calm her down.”

Satyr continued to peer out the window. “Get it done,” he said through his teeth. “I’m prickling like a mother over here.”

Mockerie rounded on him in a move so fast, Melia didn’t see it. One second, the knife was against her throat, the next, he’d crossed the room to press the tip of it up and under Satyr’s chin. “Don’t ever use that word in my presence again. Do you hear me, Ben? Not ever.”

Satyr swallowed. “What word?”

“Think about it,” Mockerie whispered. He stared for a moment, then turned his attention back to Melia.

AJ cleared his throat, but didn’t spit. Probably couldn’t. “Rope or tape, sir?” he asked Mockerie.

Mockerie bent over Melia and smiled. “Free,” he said. “Keep your gun trained on her. If she tries to scratch or bite or kick me, put a bullet in her leg. Start low and move higher every time she moves.”

Thunder shook the floor of the shack. I won’t scream, Melia promised herself. Then she felt the cold steel blade slide over her collarbone and thought, Screw it. She’d burst his fucking eardrums if she could.

“What was that?” Satyr demanded suddenly. He ducked down. “I saw a light.”

“I didn’t.” Mockerie fixed his gaze on Melia. “You’re jumping at shadows, Ben. Calm down, and enjoy the show.” He bent to whisper in Melia’s ear. “I suggest you make pain your friend, Dr. Rose. The three of us are going to be spending a lot of time together tonight.”