“Too short,” he said.
“It’s only twenty-days’ growth. What do you expect?”
“I can’t use this.”
“Then give me more time between collections. At least six weeks.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
“Then what do you expect me to do?”
He opened the bag, smelled it, and smiled. “I think it’s time we expanded our line of merchandise.”
“No way.”
“Not a good answer.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’d better care.”
“I don’t. This isn’t fair.”
“Fair?” he said, chuckling. Then he turned serious. “It’s like I always say, honey. Everything happens for a reason. No decision is meaningless. We all determine our own fate.”
“If that’s what you say, then you’re an asshole.”
“Yeah. I’ll be sure to make a note of that. Meanwhile, you think about the choices you want to make. Think about your fate.”
A low, throaty groan startled her. It was a man’s voice, definitely not the hooker next door. She focused just in time to see Theo’s eyes blink open.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
He was lying on his back, his body stretched across the mattress like a drying deer skin. Each wrist and ankle was handcuffed to a respective corner of the bed frame. He tried to say something, but with the gag it was unintelligible.
Katrina rose and inspected the big purple knot above his left eyebrow. It was squeezing his eye half shut, and he withdrew at her slightest touch.
“That was a stupid thing to do,” she said. “Next time you try to escape, I’ll have to shoot you.”
His jaw tightened on the gag, but he uttered not a sound.
She returned to her chair and laid her pistol across her lap. “I suppose you’re wondering how long I think I can keep you tied up like this.”
Short, angry breaths through his nostrils were his only reply.
“The answer is: Long enough for me to figure out what to do. See, if I don’t kill you, they’re going to kill me. And then they’ll come and find you and do the job that I was supposed to do. So it’s really in everyone’s best interest for you to behave yourself and let me figure this out.”
His breathing slowed. He seemed less antagonized.
“Now, I’m sure you’d love to lose that gag in your mouth. And after lying here unconscious for so long, you must be dying to use the bathroom. So nod once if you think you can behave yourself.”
He blinked, then nodded.
“Good.” She went to him and stopped at the edge of the mattress. Then she aimed the gun directly at his head and said, “You try anything, I’ll blow your brains out.”
She took the key from her pocket and unlocked the left handcuff. She handed him the ice bucket. “Roll over and pee into this.”
Still gagged, he shot her a look that said, You gotta be kidding.
“Do it, or hold it.”
Begrudgingly, he rolled on one side, unzipped, and did his business. From the sound of things, Katrina was beginning to think she might need a second bucket. Finally it was over. He rolled onto his back, and Katrina locked the handcuff to his wrist.
“Thirsty?” she asked.
He nodded.
“If you scream…” She pressed the gun to his forehead, as if to finish the sentence.
She reached behind his neck, loosened the knot, and pulled the gag free. She offered him a cup of water, which he drank eagerly. When he finished, he stretched his mouth open to shake off the effects of the gag, then winced. The mere use of any facial muscles was a painful reminder of the bruise above his eye.
“Damn, girl. Where’d you learn to kick like that?”
“Where’d you get those tattoos?”
He looked confused, then seemed to understand. “You served time?”
“I think of it that way.”
“What for?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just curious.”
The creaking noise resumed overhead, the steady squeak of the bed in the room above them. Katrina glanced at the ceiling, then shot Theo a look that required no elaboration.
“You were a hooker?” he said.
“No. I refused to be one.”
“They put you in jail because you wouldn’t ho’? I don’t get it.” The squeaking stopped. Theo lay still for a moment, still staring at the ceiling. “To be honest, I don’t get any of this. You’re a government informant. If someone is making you do something you don’t want to do, just go to the police.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Just explain to them that things have gotten out of hand. Someone wants you to hit me or they’re gonna hit you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I go to the police and tell them the fix I’m in, they’ll pull me from the assignment.”
“Exactly. Problem solved.”
“You just don’t understand.” Her gaze drifted across the room, then settled on the brownish-red spot of dried blood on the carpet. “There’s an old Russian proverb,” she said vaguely. “’Revenge is the sweetest form of passion.’”
“What does that have to do with calling the police?”
“If they pull me off the job now, I stifle my own passion.”
He looked straight at her, seeming to understand that somewhere behind those troubled brown eyes was an old score to settle.
“I’m good at revenge. Maybe I could help.”
“This is something I have to do myself.”
He nodded, then gave a little tug that rattled the chains of his handcuffs. “Funny.”
“What?”
“When I was fifteen, I used to have this fantasy about being kidnapped by a Latina babe.”
“Not exactly living up to the dream, is it?”
“Nope.”
“Hate to break this to you, pal. Life never does.” She stuffed the gag back in his mouth and cinched up the knot behind his head.
60
•
Jack went from Theo’s to Sparky’s. It was getting late, but the crowd had found its collective second wind. Loud country music was cranking on the sound system, and a group of Garth Brooks wannabes were twirling their women across the dance floor.
Theo’s gone one night, and the place is already swarming with rednecks.
Like most dives, Sparky’s was the kind of place where liquor flowed freely but everything else came at a price. All day long, theories about Theo’s disappearance had been bouncing off the walls. For twenty bucks the barmaid steered Jack in the most promising direction.
“Buy you a drink?” said Jack as he sidled up to the bar.
A skinny guy with weathered skin looked up from his glass and said, “You queer?”
“No, sorry. But I have a couple friends who are, if you’re interested.”
He popped up from his barstool. “Watch your mouth, jackass.”
“Easy, friend. Just a little joke.”
“I don’t think you’re so funny.”
Jack took a moment. Usually he tried to befriend people before bullying them into divulging information, but this guy was too much of a jerk to waste time schmoozing.
“You’re a truck driver, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s your rig parked out back?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I hear you sell drugs out of it.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not a cop.”
“I don’t sell nothin’ to nobody. Just drive my truck, that’s all.”
“Well, I hear differently. So let me spell this out for you. Theo Knight left this joint around two o’clock this morning. Nobody’s seen him since. His partner tells me the cops have been here asking questions. I hear you’re the only one around here who seems to have any idea what might have happened to him.”
“I didn’t tell the cops nothin’.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. That’s because you were out cutting a deal in your truck when you saw what you saw.”