There ain’t nothing wrong. Just ring the god damn bell.
The bell rung out in the silence of the night. The two men exchanged a worried look and Boko just knew this was a mistake.
Jaz had reached the kitchen where she had been dragged on her stomach when the doorbell rang. Her entire front burned hot from being dragged in such a merciless way across the hard boards, but the pain was immediately forgotten the second the bell sounded. Her heart surged in hope and she drew breath to cry out.
The scream dropped dead in her throat when she saw what her captor was doing.
“Make a sound and I swear to God I’ll stamp down and smear his brains over the tiles.”
The bastard was stood over her husband, his black-booted foot grazing the side of his head and his hand resting jauntily on his hip, reminding her of some old-fashioned photograph of a hunter on safari with a dead lion at his feet. He pointed the gun at her.
Jaz didn’t cry out, as much as she longed to. Maybe whoever was at the door had seen her flick the light-switch. Maybe they’d had the brains to call the police and they would be rescued.
Oh God, please let there be a way out of this nightmare…
The air in the kitchen felt charged, and neither she nor Jason spoke. Ed and Linda were still out cold. Perhaps mercifully for them, she thought, wishing in that moment that she too were unconscious.
No, I don’t wish that. I’ve got a life-line here.
She lay unmoving on the floor, praying with all her heart and soul that the doorbell would sound one more time.
It did. She bit down the sob of relief, the almost impossible-to-resist urge to cry out.
The letter box creaked open, making both of them jump; her in hope and him in horror.
“Hello?” a familiar voice called out, drifting into the kitchen through the opened letterbox. “Is anyone home?”
“Fuck,” Jason muttered, his foot still hovering over Ed’s skull.
Jaz kept her gaze averted and her expression neutral. This was just too good to be true.
Come on, come on, she silently willed, desperate to cry out, not knowing how she was stopping herself.
Boko, came the clear thought. Never in a million years did she think she would be so pleased to hear his voice.
“Hello?” he called again, banging heavily on the door.
“Fuck,” Jason said, then turned to Jaz. “I’m going to deal with this. Don’t cry out, you know what will happen if you do.”
He left her in the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.
“Ed,” she whispered frantically, wasting no time in dragging her aching body across the floor towards him.
The faintest woompf sound that she instantly recognised for what it was twisted in her heart; it was the sound of the gun being fired with the attached silencer.
Her hopes were dashed with it. Boko had been shot dead, she felt sure of it.
“Ed, for God’s sake, wake up.”
She groped above his head towards the kitchen sink and grabbed the tea towel off the draining board. Holding it to the bullet wound in his abdomen, the tears fell freely.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered, “don’t your dare.”
It wasn’t fair. They had their whole lives in front of them, but now he was dying.
And you will too, she thought in cold certainty.
She heard the front door slam shut and she winced as if she had been struck. The kitchen door swung inwards.
“I didn’t say you could move, bitch.”
The nuzzle of the gun kissed the temple of an ashen-faced Boko.
He’s alive. But the gunshot…
“Linda’s boyfriend has decided to join us. Isn’t that great? I’ve never done a foursome before.”
Jaz checked him over for blood. He wasn’t bleeding, as far as she could see. He was crying though, like that big fat coward she knew he really was.
“He shot Jow, oh God, please let me go.”
Jaz glanced past them down the hallway. Sure enough, the body of an old man lay crumpled in an unnatural position on the ground before the front door. Jason must have shot him, then dragged him inside the house.
Jow. That old guy from the pasty shop…
The sight of the dead body honed her senses in a way she didn’t expect. Instead of renewed terror she decided there and then that she and Ed were not going to die tonight.
Keeping her hands to her husband’s wound, she lifted up her gaze to Jason. There must have been something in her eyes he hadn’t seen before, for he grinned at her in a way that was nearer a snarl.
“Like that now is it? Very well.” He nudged Boko’s temple with the gun, making him cry out and stagger forward.
Jaz noticed how Boko had barely even glanced at his unconscious girlfriend on the floor. Or ex-girlfriend. Whatever. Jaz could not give a shit about either of them. The man was so scared in fact, it didn’t even seem to register with him that she herself was naked. And she had the feeling that was extremely unusual for Boko.
The bastard’s terrified.
He’s not the only one.
“Sit down Boko, palms flat on the table, there’s a good boy.” Boko did as instructed, sobbing the entire time. “Very good. Now, Jaz, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, it’s your turn to play. But now we have an extra person that has joined the game, so your choices are altered. Would you rather cut off your husband’s cock, flay Linda, or hold Boko’s hand down on the electric hob for thirty seconds?”
“What the fuck is this shit?” Boko said between sobs.
Jaz regarded him dry-eyed, coolly going over the options in her mind. Linda was unconscious, and God willing she might remain so during the ordeal. Searing Boko’s hand, however, would arguably be over much quicker, cause less permanent damage, and, more importantly, be a damn sight easier than skinning someone.
“I’ll take Boko’s hand.”
“What? You fucking bitch! You can’t do that!”
“Would you rather I flayed your girlfriend?”
He didn’t answer her. “Just let me fucking go,” he bellowed.
Linda stirred on the floor, and all three of them turned to look at her. She mumbled something incoherent, and hauled herself up onto her elbows.
“Boko?” she slurred, staring up at her ex with bloodshot, dazed eyes, her forehead swollen and dented from the knock it had taken against the table edge.
Boko went to stand up. “Enough of this fucking shit…” he started to say.
Jason aimed the gun at his head. “Don’t be fucking stupid. What’s a little bit of scorched skin between friends?”
“Please don’t hurt me,” Boko said, his gaze darting frantically between Jason and Jaz.
The bastard couldn’t give a shit about Linda, she thought angrily, her decision only concreting further in her mind.
Jason casually wandered over to the electric cooker and turned on the front right element, the gun trained on Boko’s head all the while.
“Wos going on?” Linda groaned, now sitting upright and ineffectually clutching her torn clothes to her naked torso.
“Don’t fucking do this,” Boko continued to babble. “Just let me go, I promise I won’t say anything.”
“C’mon, over here,” Jason said, flicking the gun at him in a come hither gesture. Boko didn’t move. “Now, fuckwit! You too, Jaz.”
Snot bubbled in the man’s nose and he continued to whimper and plead pathetically.
Jaz glanced down at her unconscious husband before joining Jason by the stove.
I love you, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.