“Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. Just something about the way you carry yourself. I been around for quite a while. I know people. For instance, I know that underneath that gruff exterior, you’re a good guy-sort of a John Wayne type. You got kids?”
“Enough! All you need to know is that I’m very good at my job, which right now is watching over you two.”
“I understand. Tell me something, Butch, did your boss or bosses tell you what to do if your sixty-two-year-old captive’s bladder was about to explode?”
The man chuckled.
“You can go to the bathroom. You just got to keep the door open.”
“If you wanna watch, that’s not my problem.”
“Door stays open, even though I don’t see you as much of a threat.”
“You’re right there, Butch. Hey, I don’t want to push my luck, but after I get this bladder business straightened out, any way I could make us some coffee? It’s instant, but you’d never know it.”
“Well, we’ll see. First things first.”
Butch removed the small brass key from his pants pocket and unlocked her cuffs.
Junie managed a sideways glance at Jillian, who immediately picked up the ball.
“Me next?” she pleaded.
“Like I said, first things first.”
Junie rose with no small difficulty, groaning mightily as she did.
“Someday, someone’s going to handcuff you to a pole, Butch, and make you sit in just that position for a million hours.”
“Sorry. Orders are orders.”
“I can barely move.”
“You’ll loosen up.”
“Maybe and maybe not. About that coffee…”
“What is it with you two? First things first. How many times do I have to say it?”
“Let me just get some water simmering while I use the bathroom. Like I said, you’ll love this stuff.”
Junie had already taken a large saucepan from beside the sink, run in some water from the tap, and set it on the propane stove.
Jillian was astounded watching the woman operate. It was just as Junie had said-as if Butch was responding to his mother.
“There’s a box of matches right here,” Junie said. “I just have to light the-”
“Okay, enough! Put those down and get into the bathroom.”
“Sure. You take cream in your coffee? Sugar? I’ll bet neither. You look like a neither type of guy. My son is a neither guy, too. Here, I’ll light the burner and you can take charge. Then I’m off to the restroom. The coffee’s in the refrigerator right next to the cream. I take both cream and a couple of sugars.”
By the time she had turned around and headed up the aisle to the small washroom across from the shower, the propane burner was on and the water was beginning to heat.
“In and out,” Butch insisted, adjusting the gun in his shoulder holster for emphasis. “I don’t have much patience.”
“My son doesn’t have any patience either.”
She risked a glance over at the stove, where the saucepan had begun to rattle on the burner. That they had gotten this far was a miracle, but they couldn’t stop or even hesitate now. These men were professionals, committed to learning how much the two women knew and then eliminating them. Unless they did something about it, they were both going to die. It was as simple as that.
Jillian swung around as much as she could. Junie had maneuvered her way into the tiny bathroom near the rear of the RV. Then suddenly she closed the door. The guard raced past the stove and pounded on the bathroom door. Jillian noticed that the saucepan on the stove was beginning to clatter as the water approached boiling.
“I told you not to close the door. Open it up now, or I’ll kick it in.”
“I can’t go with somebody watching me. Two more seconds.”
“Now!”
The door flew open and Junie stepped out with both her hands in the air. “I’m done. Don’t shoot.”
Junie lowered her hands and began moving down the narrow aisle as Butch backed up two feet in front of her. With all the commotion, Jillian wondered if he even remembered the near boiling water just a few feet behind him. With luck, if gentle, loving Junie wasn’t tentative in anything she did, he was about to get a fearsome reminder.
Suddenly, Junie reached one hand behind her back and brought it out holding an aerosol can of disinfectant. Butch was reaching for it when she sprayed him in the face. It was a feeble effort and the guard swatted the can away after only one blast. But some of the chemical had stung his eyes. His hand shot up and grabbed her by the throat as his other hand wiped the aerosol away.
“Please don’t hurt her!” Jillian screamed. “She’s never harmed anyone. Junie, don’t be foolish.”
Butch hesitated, then loosened his grip.
Junie dropped to one knee, gasping for air, but Jillian noticed that she had moved the guard backward another two feet. Butch, still rubbing at his eyes, was paying no attention to the saucepan of water, which Jillian felt certain was boiling now.
“That was a damn stupid thing to do,” the guard said.
“You’re going to kill us anyway, aren’t you? I had to try something.”
“Shut up and get back to your seat. There’s not going to be any killing here.”
Inch by inch, Junie moved ahead, purposely keeping her gaze down.
“Thank you, Butch,” Jillian said. “Thank you for not hurting her.”
Butch glanced behind him at Jillian. The distraction had lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
Junie’s moves were quick and deadly accurate. She grasped the saucepan handle, cried out Butch’s name, and as he turned back, splashed the boiling water into his face from just a few inches away.
Before the guard had even hit the carpeted floor, screaming and pawing at his eyes, Junie was pounding him again and again with the saucepan-powerful strikes that sounded like rifle shots. It took just two blows for him to become limp, but Junie landed half a dozen more, each more forceful than the last. At some point, Jillian thought she heard bone crack.
She stared wide-eyed at the woman.
“I grew up in a dog-eat-dog neighborhood,” Junie said, breathless. She reached down first to check Butch’s carotid pulse, then removed his pistol, and finally fished inside his pocket for the handcuff key. “Sometimes just making it to the corner grocery store was a serious adventure. He’s still got a pulse. But I don’t think waking up is in his near future.”
“Just remind me never to ask you for any coffee,” Jillian said.
CHAPTER 49
Koller exited the highway, pulled to a stop on an unlit, deserted street, and cut the engine. He had been using only one hand to steer. The other he rested on the dead man’s lap, pointing the gun he held there at Nick.
“Move this guy into the truck bed back there,” Koller said, motioning Nick out of the Ford with the gun barrel. “He stinks. And don’t get any ideas. I’ve left instructions with my people that if we don’t show in thirty minutes, to start scalding the ladies with hot oil. You understand me?”
Nick nodded and slipped out of the passenger door and onto the grassy roadside. He was desperate to get to
