CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“You have two minutes,” said the man with the megaphone.Even as he spoke, the thin chain twirled over the head of the woman beside Lacey, its gold links flashing sunlight, and whistled down. She cried out as it cut fire across her breasts. A smile trembled on the woman’s lips. Her nipples stood erect on her sweaty breasts.She’s getting off, Lacey thought.It must’ve been at her command that the rifles hadn’t opened up on Lacey, that instead the Rolls had come for her. She’d watched it approach, too frightened to move, thinking it’s dead, Dukane got it with a Molotov cocktail, how can it be coming? It bore down on her, its grill blinding in the sunlight. She thought it might crush her into the gravel, but it slipped sideways and its black front tire missed by inches. A door flew open. She was dragged inside the chilly, air-conditioned car.Two men held her across their laps, pawing her as the car sped away.The chain whipped down, lashing her belly.The woman was breathing hard. But not from the exertion. She licked her lips, and struck again. Lacey jerked rigid as the chain cut her thighs.It was the woman who ordered her tied to the car’s hood. The sunbaked metal had scorched her, but the pain of the burned flesh faded when the whipping started.The chain whished down, biting into her shoulder and breast.A man suddenly threw himself onto her, licking the blood from her breast.The woman lashed him. “Not yet!” she snapped.Others jerked him away.“One minute,” said the man with the megaphone.“They won’t come,” said a stocky, red-faced man.The chain slashed her belly.“I did not expect them to come,” the woman said in a trembling voice. “They threw her out. She’s ours.”“Will we drink?” asked a voice.“When I am done with her.” Again, the chain whipped down.Lacey bucked as it tore her.“The dagger.”A teenaged girl in a bikini and Dodger cap handed a knife to her. Lacey stared at its thin, tapering blade.“The river flows,” said the woman.“The river is red,” chanted the others.“The river flows!”“Flows from the heart.”“The river…”“They’re coming out!” a man cried.Lifting her head, Lacey stared over her torn body. Dukane and Scott were out of the house, walking slowly forward, tugging at the open space between them.She glanced at the woman, saw a fierce smile on her face.“Tell the snipers not to shoot. I want all three alive.”A man spoke over his megaphone, ordering everyone to hold fire.On both sides of the car, men and women lowered their weapons.Lacey gazed at Scott, watched him struggle to hold his invisible, silent captive. The pain of her wounds was forgotten as gratitude and despair brought tears to her eyes.They’re doing this for me, she realized.Sacrificing themselves.If only she’d had the courage to end her life back at the house when she had the chance…They were thirty yards away.“Go back!” she yelled, but she knew it was too late.The men kept coming, jerking and swaying as if the beast between them fought to free himself.Twenty yards.She could see the grim, determined look on Scott’s face.Ten yards.A low laugh came from the woman. “Bring him Tome,” she called. “I have waited a long time for Samuel Hoffman. And for you, Matthew Dukane. This will be a great day for me.”“Every dog has its day,” Dukane said. One side of his mouth curled into a smile.He and Scott sprang apart, diving sideways and rolling through the dust. Four pistols appeared from behind them. They stopped rolling, and their gunfire stuttered through the stillness in a deafening roar.Bodies whirled and flopped. Dirt exploded around Scott and Dukane as their fire was returned. Screams tore through the din. A man clutched his belly and sat down hard. The ball cap and bloody matter flew from the head of the teenaged girl as she fired at Dukane. He tossed a pistol aside and kept firing his automatic. A man spun, crashed into the side of the car, and fell.Dukane yelled as he was hit.Scott rose to one knee, not even glancing at him, shoving a fresh magazine into the handle of his.45. Gravel kicked up beside his foot, but he didn’t flinch. He worked the slide and resumed firing.Dukane was on his knees, his left arm hanging limp, firing with his right.A man raced forward, shooting. A bullet slammed him down.Abruptly, there was silence.Jerking her head from side to side, Lacey saw no one still standing. On both sides of the car lay crumpled bodies.Scott ran forward in a crouch. Far off, a rifle cracked. Dirt spouted in front of him.As Dukane dropped and crawled forward, Scott dived to the ground near a fat man. He grabbed the man’s rifle. It had a telescopic sight. Settling himself in a prone position, he aimed toward the far left of the house.A distant shot. The top of a cactus near Dukane exploded. Scott fired, then made a thumbs-up sign at Dukane. He swung the barrel to his right.Dukane scurried forward. He reached the front of the car, and began to cut the rope at Lacey’s foot.A shot thunked the grill.Scott fired. “Watch it,” he called. “Still one out there.”Dukane freed Lacey’s left hand, then rushed around the rear of the car and came up at her other side. As he sliced through the rope, a shot rang out. The bullet smacked the windshield inches above her head.He scurried to the front.Scott fired. “Got him!” he yelled. “That oughta be it.”Lacey sat up. As soon as her right foot was loose, she scooted off the hood. Scott, hurrying toward her, passed the rifle to Dukane and pulled off his shirt. He draped the shirt over Lacey’s back. Holding her by the shoulders, he looked down at her torn body. “Oh God, Lacey,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”With blurry, tear-filled eyes, she stared at his tormented face. She kissed him. Then she managed a smile. “Who do you think you are, James Bond?”“Max Carter and Charlie Dane.”Dukane came up behind him. “I think I deserve a kiss, too.”He got one. Lacey hugged him, ignoring the pain of her own wounds, and kissed his dry lips.“You guys are nuts, coming out like that.”“The best defense…” Dukane said.Lacey gasped, her joy suddenly turning to cold fear. “Hoffman! You let him…” She staggered back, clutching the shirt tight to hide her nakedness, looking behind her as if she might somehow see him sneaking up.“Hoffman isn’t with us,” Dukane said.“I know. You let him…”“He’s still in the house,” Scott interrupted. “Securely handcuffed in the bathroom.”“You mean…?”“Pretty good act, huh?”“Now,” said Dukane, “how about attending to my arm before I bleed to death?”“Oh,” Scott muttered. “Forgot about that.”“I didn’t.”