Goddammit, why did I let him grab the gun?
Taylor felt himself go dead inside, like his body turned to ice. He chose his words carefully, keeping his voice even. “You know what, Donaldson? Maybe you’re right. Sharing seems like a fair thing to do, and it might even be fun. Besides, it would be a shame to deprive such a famous lady of either of our company. But I have to say that seeing you holding a gun makes me a bit nervous. We don’t want to make enemies of each other, do we?”
Donaldson smiled, shrugged, and then uncocked the gun and shoved it into his front pocket. “I appreciate your generosity, Taylor. Really, I do. And normally I wouldn’t be so ungracious to a fellow traveler. But this woman just does something to me. I haven’t been this excited in years.”
“I can see that.” Taylor was eye-level with Donaldson’s crotch. “Or maybe that’s the gun.”
“So let’s have a meeting of the minds.”
“Fine.”
Taylor relaxed a notch now that the weapon was out of play, but he had no doubt Donaldson would use it again. His original fantasy of tag-team action had been replaced by the unpleasant image of Donaldson tying him up and feeding him his own face. When there are too many foxes in the henhouse, the foxes kill each other. A shame, because Taylor was starting to like the older man.
“Since you agree to sharing,” Donaldson said, “would you be adverse to both of us going at her at the same time? You take the bottom half, I take the top?”
Taylor reached a hand behind his back and touched the folding knife clipped to his belt-Donaldson had given it back to him in the parking lot. Killing him right now would probably be the best bet, but the guy was big, and the knife blade was short. Unless he died quick, Donaldson would fight back and be able to grab his gun.
No, the knife wasn’t the way to go.
But Taylor did have a sawed-off shotgun under his passenger seat. All he needed to do was jump down, lock the trap door, and grab it.
“Sharing would be okay.” Taylor tried to look thoughtful. “But I want to look her in the eyes when I’m doing my thing. Be tough to do if her eyes were gone.”
“They wouldn’t be gone. They’d be in her mouth.”
Taylor shook his head. “That wouldn’t be good for me.”
“I could leave her eyes alone. Maybe just take off her eyelids so she’d be forced to look. It could work. We could do a trial run on the whore, here.”
Donaldson kicked Candi in her side. She moaned.
Taylor figured there were three steps beneath him. He would need to grab the door and tug it closed before Donaldson pulled his gun. He didn’t know if the cop’s bullet would go through the half inch steel the sleeper was made out of, but his shotgun slugs certainly would. Lots of damage, though, and it would make a lot of noise.
“I’m not exactly keen on a two on one. If you promise to leave her eyes alone, and that she’ll stay conscious and not die on you, I could let you go first.”
Donaldson’s face remained blank for a moment, then he raised his eyebrow.
“I appreciate your offer. I sincerely do. But I can’t help but think that while I’m doing my thing, you might make some sort of effort to do me harm. Or perhaps lock me in here.”
Taylor began to wish he never parked at this truck stop.
“We seem to be at an impasse.”
“No,” Donaldson shook his head. “I believe we can work this out. I have no desire to harm you, Taylor. And I am grateful for this opportunity. I shouldn’t have flashed the gun. That was a mistake. I’ve been playing this game solo for so long, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you have a knife on you, and probably some other weapons in the truck, and I fear I just began a war of escalation.”
“I don’t want to kill you either.” It was the truth. Not that he had any real affection for Donaldson, but trying to muscle the dead fat man out of his sleeper and drag him to a river didn’t seem like a fun time.
“We don’t know each other well yet. But we’re kindred spirits. Maybe we could even become friends.”
“It’s possible.”
“How long will the cop be out for?” Donaldson asked.
“A few minutes, probably more. Pinch her, see if she flinches. When they’re really under, they don’t flinch.”
Donaldson leaned over Jack Daniels and squeezed her breast. She didn’t move.
“She’s out. You have some rope?”
“More bungee cords in the trunk.”
Neither man moved to get them. Eventually, Donaldson raised an eyebrow. “Are you a gambling man, Taylor?”
“I’ve been known to play the odds.”
“Let’s flip a coin. Winner gets first crack at the cop.”
Taylor considered it. “I’d be up for that, if it were a fair toss.”
“We could go in the diner, have our waitress do the flipping. I’ll even let you call it. Would be good to get out in the fresh air, clear our heads.”
“Let’s say I agree. You still have me at a disadvantage.”
Donaldson nodded. “The gun. Firing it wouldn’t be smart for either of us. Cops might already be on their way, after what Lieutenant Daniels did to that pimp.”
“I’ve got a solution.”
“I’m listening.”
“An empty gun isn’t a threat. Hand me the bullets. But do it slowly, or else I might get nervous and lock you up here for a few days with no air conditioning or water.”
“Fair enough.”
Donaldson gently reached back into his pants and removed the gun. He held it upside-down by the trigger guard, and swung out the cylinder. Then he dumped the rounds onto his palm and handed them to Taylor.
Taylor grinned.
Maybe this tag-team thing will work out after all.
“Are we good?” Donaldson asked.
“We’re good. Let’s hogtie this pig.”
Taylor climbed into the sleeper, and after an uneasy moment of sizing each other up, the two of them began to bind the cop. Donaldson quickly got the hang of it, and they soon had Jack suitably trussed.
“You sure she’s safe here?” Donaldson asked, admiring their handiwork.
“Never had an escape. Bungee cords are tighter than rope. The enclosure is steel, the lock on the door is solid. She’s not going anywhere.”
Taylor grabbed the cop’s purse, wound it over his shoulder, and crawled down out of the sleeper after Donaldson. He made sure the trap door was locked, took what he wanted from the purse, and together they walked back to the diner.
8
The moment they were gone I rolled onto my belly and inch-wormed up to my knees. My hands were behind my back, the bungee cords so tight my fingers were tingling. I strained against the elastic, trying to twist my wrists apart, but couldn’t free myself.
More cords wound around my chest and upper arms, and encircled my knees and ankles. I flopped onto my side, wincing at the pain. My shoulder still hurt, and there was a throb in my left breast where Donaldson had pinched me. If he’d done it for a few seconds longer, I would have screamed.
Pretending to be unconscious seemed like a better choice than really being unconscious, but when they tied me up I realized that maybe fighting back and yelling for help when I had the chance might have been the better move.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me, and I began to hyperventilate. Fear and I were old adversaries. There was no way to squelch it, but if I kept my focus I could work through the fear. The goal was to not think about any
