Joe Bob grinned. “That’s mighty generous of you, Hoss. And we’ll be taking your money. But you ain’t getting off that easy.”
The other man grinned, too. “Hear you need a lesson in manners, boy.”
The woman placed the sole of a high-heeled shoe on his throat and pressed down hard. There was hate in her eyes. He sort of knew why Joe Bob was pissed at him, but what had he done to these other people?
He tried to think back over the night.
The long hours of drinking at the bar. Drinking and occasionally making snide comments to anyone who tried to strike up conversation. A blur of venom and negativity.
Fuck.
The woman sneered. “Gonna fuck you up, pretty boy.”
The men laughed.
“Got that right,” said Joe Bob. “And you ain’t gonna tell a soul how it happened, unless you want some of my biker buddies to kill your whole fuckin’ family. You want that, motherfucker?”
Chuck gulped. He didn’t doubt the threat. “No.”
After that, Chuck didn’t care.
They weren’t going to kill him, and that was all he needed to know.
They were true to their word, though.
They fucked him up.
But they were wrong about the other thing. A time would come when he would tell the truth about this night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
March 22
“What’s your fucking problem?”
Roxie had stripped down to T-shirt and black thong panties. Rob could see a tattoo of some sort on an inner thigh. There was another tattoo on her right foot. Words in Latin. He didn’t ask for a translation. He’d seen her bend over a time or two and knew there was yet another tattoo on her lower back. The T-shirt hid other illustrations he’d glimpsed in that gas-station bathroom. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor now, with the overstuffed tote bag in her lap, staring up at him with an expression betraying irritation and impatience.
Rob sat on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t moved from the position in well over an hour, ever since…
Oh, God…
A blood-stained vision filled his head and he felt sick all over again. At least she’d hauled the body into the bathroom. He hoped he wouldn’t have to see it again. Looking at what she’d done to the poor fuck made him want to tear his eyes out.
“Goddammit.” Roxie set the tote bag aside and came out of the cross-legged position to lean toward him on her knees. “I asked you a question. Answer me right now or…”
Rob frowned. He waited a beat. Then he said, “Or…what?”
Her expression went blank. “Or I’ll cut your face off, too.”
Rob nodded. “Yeah. That’s it, I think. My fucking problem, as you put it, has a lot to do with you cutting that kid’s face off. What kind of sick bitch are you?”
Roxie continued to stare at him blankly for several moments, that dead expression unsettling him nearly as much as any of the atrocities he’d witnessed today. Then her eyes opened a bit wider, a reflected glint of light from the overhead bulb hinting at a twisted playfulness. “You know what’s really interesting, Robin?”
“I really don’t want to know.”
She laughed. “What’s really interesting is the way you sat right where you are now the whole time I was in the bathroom. That was, what…at least fifteen minutes? Yeah. At least fifteen, between dragging that dead boy in there and showering off. And you just sat here. Didn’t budge an inch, far as I can tell. You’re not cuffed or tied up. You could have slipped out and gotten away, no problem. Now why is that, Robin? Why did you stay?”
Oh, shit. She’s right…
Rob groaned. “I was…I don’t know…numb. Out of it. In shock. Scared to death. I didn’t know what was happening. I just…I…”
Roxie leaned closer to him and crossed her forearms over his knees. The playful, twisted gleam in her eyes sparkled brighter as she stared up at him. “Bullshit. You stayed because you wanted to. Because this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in your whole life. Because I’m the most exciting thing that’s happened to you.” The small smile that curved the corners of her mouth stirred a maddening desire to kiss her. “Admit it, you’re enjoying the ride. You don’t want it to end.”
Rob shook his head. “Bullshit. You’re crazy. This…” He looked helplessly around the room, eyes darting about, taking in the large, sticky stain behind Roxie, the bloody scalpel propped atop the glass ashtray on the table, and the hideous thing stretched tight over the cover of the Gideon Bible on the dresser. The face mask. He looked Roxie in the eye again. That playful quality hadn’t diminished an iota, had only amped up as she watched him mentally cataloging the horrors. “This is insanity. Pure insanity. I don’t want to be here. I don’t think I was…conscious of being left alone or I wouldn’t be here now. You’re evil. Pure fucking evil.”
A shuddery sigh escaped trembling lips.
His eyes began to water.
Roxie tossed her head back and laughed with gusto. “Oh, Robin…and you wonder why I call you that? You’re such a scared little girl.” More laughter. “But no, that’s not right. A girl would be smarter. A girl would’ve run. I think a better word for you would be…let’s see…” She rolled her eyes around a bit, pursed her lips, and tapped her chin with a forefinger. “Got it!” She snapped her fingers. “The word for you is…pansy.“
She giggled. “Robin the sissy-wissy pansy.”
The words stung. Mostly because her accusation seemed to be sort of true. Never in his life had he felt so physically cowed by another human being. No schoolyard bully could ever have done this to him, nor any badass biker or street thug. The helplessness he felt in the presence of this girl made him feel like a piece of shit. Weak. Useless. Pathetic.
In other words…not like a real man.
He realized he was shaking again and this only intensified the self-loathing.
Robin, he thought. She’s right. It fits.
Roxie uncrossed her arms and ran a hand up his thigh. “You need to calm down. I think I know a way I can help you relax.”
Rob pushed her hand away from his crotch. “No.”
Her smile slipped some. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Roxie’s expression turned smoldering, just shy of murderous. “Bitch, you don’t get to say no to anything I want.” Her hand slid up his thigh again and roughly cupped his crotch. “You really think this is gonna stay limp when I start working on it?”
The answer to that was already obvious. Rob tried to twist away from Roxie, but she pressed a hand against his chest and shoved him backward. She climbed onto the bed and straddled him, writhed against him, rubbing her pubis against the hard bulge straining the fabric of his jeans with raw, unbridled enthusiasm. She braced her hands on the mattress and leaned close to him, sneering as she continued to grind her pelvis. “What about it, Rob? You want me to stop that?”
Rob’s helpless whimper was the only answer necessary. She kept at it for a while, driving him mad with the need for physical release. A cascade of emotions swirled through his head. Hate, lust, shame, and anger. Then she climbed off him and left Rob panting there as she picked up her tote bag and took a seat at the little table by the window. He stared up at the ceiling through a mist of fresh tears. Some time passed and a little of the unfulfilled need began to dissipate, a greater swelling of fresh shame rushing in to take its place.
What the fuck is wrong with me? How did that happen?
It hardly mattered how it had happened, really. She had proven a point and there was no way to refute it. He wanted her. Even now, after bearing witness to the awful things she’d done, the most primitive part of him looked at Roxie and responded first with consuming lust. But the feelings her near-perfect body stirred didn’t negate the horror of her heinous acts. That lust was totally apart from everything else he felt about her. And one way or another, he swore, he would not allow himself to become a prisoner to those baser feelings.