CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
Angela was across the room, her hand on a light switch.
An old fat guy in hot pink bikini bottoms with a hard on stood over him, holding a nightstick.
The fat guy dropped the nightstick, fighting to unwrap a set of chains wrapped around his throat.
Julia stood behind him on the bed. She was gagged, wearing nothing but a G-string, strangling the guy with chains she’d wrapped around his throat.
Handcuffs on her wrists and ankles were attached to the chains, which ran through eyelets welded into the top of the bed’s four posters and trailed up to an anchor in the ceiling.
Conor buried a punch in the guy’s stomach. The man slumped, but the chains around his neck kept him upright. Julia unwrapped the chain from his neck, letting him crumple to the floor.
“Get those cuffs off her,” said Angela, taking a set of keys off a hook on the wall and throwing them to Conor.
“You okay?” said Conor, unlocking the handcuffs around Julia’s wrists.
As soon as her hands were free, Julia pulled off her gag. She watched Conor unlock the handcuffs on her ankles, then she jumped off the bed, bending over the man on the ground. “You sick fuck!” she screamed, kicking him in the face.
Conor pulled Julia away. She bared her teeth and fought to land another kick.
“Take it easy,” said Conor. “You’re gonna break your foot.”
Julia caught her breath.
“I’m gonna let you go now,” said Conor. “Okay?”
She nodded.
He released her and looked at the man who was moaning and rolled up into the fetal position. A flash of recognition ran through him. “Is that your old boyfriend? The one that tried to rape you in Brannigan?”
Julia pushed by Conor and stared down at James. “Yeah, and he’s gonna be dead when I’m done with him.”
“We don’t have time for this,” said Conor. “We gotta go.” He watched Julia look around, grab a set of handcuffs off the floor, and then snap one on James’ wrist and the other on the frame of the bed.
James stopped moaning long enough to look at the handcuff on his wrist. He lifted his gaze to Julia, Conor, and Angela.
“What do you think you’re doing? The chief of police is a friend of mine. You do anything to me and I’ll make sure all of you rot in prison.”
“We need to go,” said Angela, grabbing Julia’s hand.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to do anything to you,” said Julia, looking down on James with a smile as Angela pulled her away.
Conor turned at the sound of murmuring and shuffling behind them. People were crowded at the open door, staring at the scene. Grabbing a black stiletto from the floor and one from the bed, Conor handed them to Julia, then pulled off his white T-shirt and gave it to her.
“Get those shoes and shirt on. Let’s go,” he said, wiping blood off his hand.
He looked at the stiletto as Julia slipped it on her foot.
Blood dripped off the heel, which looked to be a perfect match for the two bloody holes in James Stockton’s face—one in his cheek and another in the side of his neck.
Conor shook his head. That was twice this sack of shit had tried to have his way with Julia.
Both times he ended up bleeding on the floor.
It was enough to make Conor believe in a higher power.
Not that life was fair, or anything like that.
Just that sometimes, just when things reached their bleakest point, unknown powers seemed to intervene.
He grabbed Julia’s hand, hoping her guardian angel was still in the vicinity.
They might need a little more help tonight.
The people clustered around the doorway backed up as Conor led Julia and Angela out of the room.
Julia pulled away from Conor in the middle of the crowd, still smiling.
She pointed back at James, sitting on the floor with his belly overlapping his pink bikini underwear.
“Take a good look at James Stockton, superintendent of the Woodlands School District. The man who looks after your children. The man who raped me. You should hear what he says about your little girls.” She stopped and scanned the crowd of bikers, laborers, and other hard men who worked in the underbelly of the economy.
“And what he says about your little boys.”
Conor grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the crowd surging through the door. James strangled cry rose above the shouts of the people as he pulled her away.
Conor walked Julia through the club toward the front door and pulled to a stop.
The guy at the front door was a typical three-hundred-pound bouncer.
His eyes were pinned on them. Conor whispered, “Stay behind me,” to Angela and Julia.
He approached the door man. The giant got off his stool and eyeballed the two women behind Conor.
He folded his arms over his chest, lifted his chin, and shook his head.
“Sorry. Can’t let the dancers leave the club until we’re closed.”
There wasn’t time for this. Whatever was happening to James back in that room was certain to alert the bouncers, and there were more in this club than he could deal with. They needed to get out. Now.
Conor gestured for the girls to stay put.
He walked up to the door man and looked up at him.
The man grinned. He wasn’t going to move, not without a fight.
But all Conor wanted him to do was back up.
To give them room to pass. So, still staring up at the giant, he dropped a boot heel on his foot.
That backed him up, but he was still in the way.
Conor drove a kick into the side of his knee.
The man’s leg folded. He screamed and toppled like a tree struck by lightning.
Conor stepped over him and ushered the girls past him into the parking lot.
Conor jumped into his Camaro and cranked the engine.
Angela got into her bumblebee-yellow Mustang parked alongside the Camaro. It roared to life.
Julia stopped and looked at one car, and then the other.
“Get in,” yelled Angela through her open window.
Julia ran around to the passenger side of the Camaro. “We’ll follow you,” she yelled, waving for Angela to go.
Conor watched Angela stare at Julia for a long moment before she backed up and spun out of the lot, spitting gravel. He stayed right on her tail as she tore down the country roads. He had to floor it in the straightaways to keep up with her.
If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed she was trying to lose him.