He thinks more, then acquiesces, no idea how lucky he is.
At the exit for the next truck stop, he veers off the interstate, slows to a stop in the lot. He smiles again, looks at her. “I really don’t mind taking you back.”
“No, you have a job to get to. I can handle it.”
“You be careful out there.”
She nods, then turns to open the door.
In an instant, she experiences a wave of panic as she feels an arm clenched around her neck choke-hold-style, and a cloth clamped against her face. She feels a burning sensation on her cheeks, nose, and lips, and before she can fight him off her world goes black.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
JENNA
Back in the hotel room, Jenna sits cross-legged on the bed. Nico sits on the sofa, and Donnie shuffles on his feet, emanating nervous energy. She can’t help but flash back to Savior House, the kids sitting at the long dining room table as Mr. Brood held court.
“I spoke to Arty,” she tells them.
They say nothing.
“He has a plan.”
Both men look down, no doubt remembering the last time Artemis Templeton had a plan.
“He’s going to set up a meeting with Derek, offer him money to drop this.”
Nico raises his eyes. “He thinks that will work? Whoever is trying to kill us hired a contract killer. Maybe more than one. They went on a cruise ship, blew up a coal mine, you said they went after your family. I don’t think this is about money.”
Jenna shrugs.
Nico continues, “Derek agreed to meet?”
“Arty’s reaching out to him, but he seemed confident he could set it up.”
“Where? Somewhere public, I hope? If not, Arty ought to make sure his affairs are in order,”
Nico says.
Jenna agrees that somewhere public would be the safest course. But she also knows it won’t be a public meeting, in case Jenna has to execute the backup plan.
Donnie remains quiet, his eyes still on the matted carpet. Finally, he asks, “What if he won’t take the money?”
Jenna figures he already knows the answer. “Arty will convince him. He suggested it would take a lot of zeros.”
“But what if he doesn’t take it?” Donnie asks again.
Nico and Jenna share a knowing glance.
Jenna says, “In that case, Arty asked that all three of us come. That we try to convince him to stop this nonsense.”
Donnie stares out at nothing, and Jenna pictures a younger version of that same vacant stare on a rainy night twenty-five years ago.
Nico clears his throat. “I’d bet on Arty getting it done.”
Jenna’s burner phone pings with a text. “It’s set,” she tells them. “Tonight at seven o’clock. Say what you want about Artemis Templeton, he makes things happen.”
“Maybe that’s the damn problem,” Donnie says.
Ignoring that, Nico asks, “Where do we meet?”
“Seven o’clock … at Savior House.” She waits for the questions, the concerns, about the locale —their now-shuttered group home.
Instead, Donnie goes into the restroom. There’s the sound of the faucet. When he comes out, his face is wet, like he’s doused himself.
He moves to the door.
“Where you going, Don?” Nico asks.
Donnie doesn’t answer. He opens the door, goes outside, then closes it behind him.
Nico gives Jenna a curious look.
Jenna goes to the window, moves the curtains, and looks outside. She sees Donnie’s rental car tearing out of the lot.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
THE TWINS
Casey opens her eyes. Everything is blurry and she’s disoriented. Before she comprehends what’s going on, she feels hands around her neck. When she sees the trucker’s face, it all comes back to her like a knife to the chest. The trucker pulling over to let her out, the chloroformed rag over her nose and mouth. The rig isn’t moving. Maybe she’s only been out for a few seconds. She has no idea.
The trucker looks her deep in the eyes, squeezes her neck hard enough to show he’s serious. It’s strange how his face has changed, morphed from the aw-shucks guy-next-door into a dead-eyed killer.
Still holding her neck, he says, “You’re going to get in the back and do what I say.”
Casey nods. She sees her skirt is hiked up, but the fishnets are still on, like she regained consciousness sooner than the trucker expected. He releases his hold on her neck, shows her a large hunting knife.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
“Get back there and take off your clothes. If you scream, I won’t hesitate to use this.” He raises the knife. The long blade is smudged with dirt or maybe blood that’s gone brown.
Casey’s heart is beating, adrenaline flowing. Her face feels sunburned, tender.
She climbs into the cabin behind the front seats, which is separated by a curtain. In the back, there’s a mattress. Then she notices the handcuffs. The jug of lubricant. The sex toys.
She takes off her tank top, baring her breasts.
The trucker appears excited, but he makes himself look out the windshield checking the lot before climbing in back with her.
He grabs her by the neck with one hand again, looks her in the eyes.
She gently puts a hand on his. “You don’t have to be rough. Slow down. Let’s do this right.”
But his grip doesn’t loosen. He doesn’t have to be rough; he wants to be rough.
He removes his hand and starts unbuttoning his pants. It’s then that Casey removes her skirt, taking the lipstick stun gun from the pocket and putting it on top of her pile of clothes as if it fell out.
Chet’s about to pounce.
Casey pushes herself back against the wall, spreads her legs. While he’s distracted by that, she palms the lipstick, untwists the cap with one hand.
He’s crawling toward her, breathing heavily. She startles when he jumps on top of her. As he’s about to violate her, she jams the stun into his neck. She triggers the device, struggling out from under him. She holds it against his neck as Chet sputters, spasms, and collapses, incapacitated now. Casey’s eyes land on the hunting knife that he left within easy reach.
She scolds herself for being fooled. For thinking of letting him go. Lesson learned: Show no mercy.
He’s motionless but she gives him another three million volts, just to be sure. He vibrates like a man on the electric chair, then goes still again.
Naked from the waist down, he moans, drool bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
Still naked herself, Casey places the stun gun directly on his cock.
“I know you didn’t want me to make any noise,” she says, looking him straight in his widening eyes. “But I’m fine if you want to scream.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
NICO
Nico shushes Jenna as he watches the local newscast on the hotel room’s television. On the screen is a photo of Ben Wood in his black robe, looking dashing and distinguished.
“There’ve been new developments in the murder of a prominent Philadelphia federal judge. The primary suspect in the murder, Damon Angelos, was released due to insufficient evidence. Angelos, who had threatened Judge Wood during his sentencing in an unrelated case nearly a decade ago, was arrested shortly after Judge Wood’s body was found in Delaware County. A spokesperson for the Philadelphia Police Department has declined to comment other than to say that Mr. Angelos is no longer a suspect.”