He stood in the doorway with the shotgun in his hands, laughing nervously as he watched Willis advance on her. Serena was almost more afraid of him than she was of Willis. Willis was cruel and calculating, but Perret had a wild gleam in his eye when he looked at her that made her think he was teetering on the brink of a dangerous land of frenzy.
Willis sat down beside her, his thigh pressing against hers, his hip brushing her hip. He braced himself upright with the whiskey bottle against the mattress and leaned over into Serena's face. The smell of his breath and the sour scent of his body was enough to make her want to draw back, but she held her ground. As long as she kept her mind working and the fear at bay, she had a chance. The second she buckled under the weight of terror, she would be lost; they would be on her like wolves on a lamb.
«See, if I untied you,» Willis said, his mouth a scant inch above hers, «then you might just try to stop me from doing this.»
He brought the pistol up, and Serena's heart lodged in her throat as he drew the end of the barrel slowly along her jawline, down her throat, over her breastbone. He traced the lacy edge of her bra, the cold steel pressing into the flesh of her breast. A shudder passed through her from head to toe, and Willis smiled and chuckled.
«You like that, Lady Serena?» he asked, stroking the gun barrel across her nipple. «You'll like this even better.»
Serena breathed a sigh of relief as he set the.38 aside on the bed, but gasped in the next instant as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backward onto the mattress. He leaned over her, looking like something from a horror movie with his twisted smile and one eye swollen shut. Chuckling low in his throat, he raised the whiskey bottle over her. Serena tensed and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow, but none came. Whiskey splashed onto her chest, soaking into the fabric of her bra and running in rivulets down her sides. The scent of it filled her nostrils.
Willis bent over her and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard at her through the wet silk. He jammed a knee between her thighs, forcing her legs to part and lowered himself onto her, grinding his erection against her.
Serena fought the tears that stung the backs of her eyes as the last of her hope was crushed beneath the weight of Gene Willis. She'd had her chance to escape, and she'd blown it. She wished they had simply killed her. She wished that the last thing she was to endure on this earth wasn't defilement and debasement. She didn't want to die with rape as her last memory.
Close your eyes and think of England. That was the line Victorian women had been schooled to remember in the face of sexual relations. Close your eyes and think of Lucky. The tears pressed harder for release as Willis sucked noisily at her breast and thrust himself against the apex of her thighs. Serena bit her lip until she tasted blood. Revulsion shuddered through her and rose in her throat to gag her. This was violence in one of its ugliest forms.
«Hey, who says you get her first?» Perret demanded, suddenly looming up behind Willis. His droopy eyes were narrowed and his mustache twitched as he worked his jaw angrily from side to side. The shotgun was still clutched loosely in his hands and his fingers twisted on the stock and barrel.
Willis raised his head from Serena's breast, but didn't deign to look at his partner. «I say I get her first,» he said, his tone low and dangerous.
Serena watched Perret with interest as his face flushed and his mouth moved back and forth as if he were working up the nerve to spit the words out. The feral gleam in his dark eyes intensified as his gaze fastened on her chest and the wet fabric that covered her breasts. «You said before, I'd get her.»
«The hell I did,» Willis grunted. He ground his hips against Serena's and began to lower his head again, dismissing the man behind him.
«You did!» Perret insisted. «You said I could have her first.»
«Looks to me like his promises don't mean very much,» Serena said. Her deflated hopes lifted a fraction. Her skill with minds and words was the only weapon she had. If she could turn the two men against each other, she might yet have a slim chance to live through this ordeal, and a slim chance was better than no chance at all.
Willis scowled at her. «You shut up.»
«Why should I listen to you?» she countered. «He's the one with the shotgun.»
«That's right,» Pou said militantly, his hand stroking up and down the barrel of the gun. «Me, I got the shotgun, Willis. Get off her. I wanna do her first.»
«Go to hell.»
«I can shoot you, you lyin' bastard!» He swung the barrel of the shotgun around as if he had every intention of making good on his threat, but instead of pulling the trigger, he jabbed the nose of the gun in Willis's back.
Willis swore through his teeth. «All right. Jesus, let me up.»
Perret stepped back and lowered the gun. Willis rose slowly, adjusting his jeans, glaring at the smaller man. In a quick move that belied his cumbersome size, he snatched the shotgun away by the barrel and swung the stock end at his partner like a baseball bat, narrowly missing Pou's head as he ducked back.
«You stupid coonass trash!» Willis shouted. «You can't even get her from the goddamn boat to the house without screwing up! You can damn well wait your turn!»
«You said I got her first!» Perret shouted back.
Serena watched them argue. They yelled back and forth, issuing threats and insults, all the while inching away from the bed and toward the other side of the room. Nothing stood between her and the front door. She could make another run for it. She doubted she would get away, but there was a chance. Perhaps they would shoot her instead of chasing after her, too, and that seemed infinitely preferable to suffering the kind of violation they had planned.
She leaned forward, bracing herself to make a running start. Willis turned suddenly and set the shotgun beside the door. He sent an angry glance Serena's way.
«All right, all right,» he snapped, waving his hands in Perret's face to shut him up. «We'll flip for first chance.»
He dug a quarter from his pocket and Perret snatched it away from him to make sure it wasn't two-headed. Willis grabbed it back and sent it into the air with a flick of his thumb.
Serena sprang from the bed and lunged for the door.
Perret wheeled toward her.
The quarter never landed.
The back door of the shack swung open. A shot exploded through the air and the coin vanished. Serena's heart leapt into her throat as she jerked around and saw Lucky standing there. He was danger personified in fatigue pants and a black T-shirt, mud smeared across his face and arms, a sleek black gun clutched in his hands.
Perret screamed as if he were seeing an appartition from hell. Whirling toward the door, he reached out for the shotgun propped against the wall. The gun in Lucky s hands bucked once and Pou screamed again as a bullet tore into his shoulder. He fell headfirst through the screen door and landed sprawled on the steps whimpering and crying.
Willis lunged for Serena, one brawny arm catching her around the neck. The momentum of his body carried her backward and to the floor, and they landed against the side of the bed, sending it skidding sideways. The.38 was in his hand and swinging in Lucky s direction before Serena could blink. Acting on adrenaline and instinct, she shoved backward with all her might, throwing Willis off balance. His shot went into the ceiling, sending down a rain of disintegrated Sheetrock.
Serena twisted out of his grasp and hurled herself toward the door, scrambling to get up from her knees. Her ears were ringing from the deafening sound of the shots and the pulse roaring in her veins. She didn't hear Willis behind her, but she felt his meaty hand close on her ankle and yank her leg out from under her. As she fell she turned her shoulders and saw Willis coming down toward her, the gun pointed at her head.