Chapter Twenty-One

My throat felt like it had been burned, sanded down, and stuck through with a thorny branch, all at once. I tried to clear it, and ended up doubled over in hacking pain.

“Hey there.”

I blinked up at the sound of Billy’s gruff voice.

“You’re not dead,” he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, and the feel of air rushing in made me gag. Billy handed me a bottled water and I drank from it slowly and carefully.

“I don’t think I’m alive, either,” I croaked.

“When you’re ready to sit up, let me know,” he replied, and I realized I was more or less lying in his lap.

I shifted my body so I could prop myself up. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

“What happened?” I asked in a whisper.

“I hoped you were gonna tell me.”

I frowned, trying to remember. I had been talking to Gary, and there had been a lot of shouting, and a man in a mask had burst through the door. The rest was a blur of red rope and flailing limbs and cruel eyes.

“Monato…I’m not sure…” I said, trailing off as I remembered the coldness in his eyes. “I think he was trying to kill me.”

Billy grunted irritably. I turned my head and immediately wished that I hadn’t. The three hookers were slumped together in the middle of the storage room.

“Oh, God.”

I leaned over and dry heaved.

“Are they dead?” I asked.

“Leo!” Billy hollered without answering me. “Get these fucking girls out of here.”

“Can’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

The heavyset man popped his head into the closet and gave us a helpless shrug.

“Police are on their way,” he told us.

“What? What the hell for?” Billy demanded.

Leo shrugged again. “Someone called them. Maybe your friend Monato is trying to stir the pot. Got the news on my scanner.”

“Does he want to get caught?” Billy sounded utterly confused.

“Monato was wearing gloves,” I croaked as I remembered the feeling I’d had when he touched me with them.

“Shit,” Billy said. “John’s prints are all over this room now. On the girls…”

“Put on your pants, Cass. We gotta get outta here. Fast.”

I looked down at my legs stupidly, realizing they were bare. I tried to move them, but they felt like rubber. Billy grabbed my arm and yanked me forcefully to my feet. I stumbled a little, and caught myself on the wall.

“Leo, bring my goddamned car to the closest door,” Billy commanded.

I tried unsuccessfully to slide my feet into the black pants I’d been wearing. The older man made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and ripped the pants out of my hands.

“Forget it,” he said, and scooped up my shirt and shoes, too. “Let’s go.”

I clung to his arm, and walked behind him to the now-familiar sedan. He did up my seatbelt for me and drove the car through the parking lot, keeping his eyes on the road. We went out a different way than we came in, avoided the main entrance, and continued along a gravel road that ran below the highway. After a few minutes, Billy eased the car behind a natural embankment and waited. He said nothing as four police cars sped past us on the main road. I watched nervously as the flashing lights went by.

What would happen to John if he got stuck in the middle of this? And where had he gone? I worried.

“They can’t see us from up there,” Billy muttered as he put the car back into drive.

“Okay.”

He pulled onto the road and turned on the radio. I watched out the window while holding my raw throat.

Where in God’s name was he taking me now?