Sex Retreat(76)
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Trixie sat down in the car first, but Cash beat her to the console. Pulling her atop his lap, he grabbed her phone at the same time. “Look at this, why don’t you? Wonder what would’ve happened if you had grabbed this, hidden it from me, and then silently dialed one of their numbers?”
“I didn’t know where my phone was,” she said.
He pinched her side. “Now, now, Trix bitch, let’s not start on the wrong footing here. Okay, my sweet baby mama?”
Trixie stared through the windshield, wondering why she’d stopped there. Now, she just wished she’d peed her pants or kept traveling up I-81. Eventually she would’ve found a truck stop. She would’ve spotted a safe place to take a break.
Cash thrust his hips forward. “Do you feel that?”
“No, thank God,” she replied before she thought.
He hooked his arm around her neck and yanked her to him. “This dick is what will save you, bitch. If you act interested and you make me a believer, then you will stay alive. If you act as if you’re too good for me, you will die a slow death. Are we perfectly clear about that?”
“Yes,” Trixie replied, petrified.
“Good, lover.” He stroked her head. “Now, get in the backseat and take off your clothes.”
“What?” she screeched.
“I said, ‘get in the backseat and take off your clothes,’ and I didn’t say you could wait and strip when it suited you.” He grinned as he peered down at her. “I’ve been listening to the way your fellows talk to you. I know what you enjoy. You like playing with your pussy and having them watch. I also know you like gingerroot.”
“I don’t like gingerroot,” she said, hoping she could convince him of the fact. She loved figging. She didn’t want this creep taking what she’d enjoyed with her men and turning it into something dirty.
“Get in the back, now.” He pushed her aside and clutched the steering wheel. Lights filled the car as a truck wheeled in right beside them.
Trixie dove over the seat headfirst and looked out the window, hoping the man in the truck would make eye contact and sense something wasn’t quite right. She closed her eyes and prayed for help, prayed he would look at her. Even if he didn’t help her, perhaps he would remember her face.
“Wait until he goes inside,” Cash said, tossing his arm over the seat and flashing a jagged blade. “One word and I slice your throat.”
She believed him.
* * * *
“A man doesn’t want to be awakened in the middle of the night to be told of his son-in-law’s ignorance!” Kane bellowed. “You listen to me, Brock Sheldon, and you make damn sure those morons with you understand, too. If one thing happens to Trixie—one small bruise is detected, just one—I will hold each of you accountable!”
Daddy Kane slammed down the phone and sat at the large oak desk, the only piece of furniture in Trixie’s home office. Why she needed a home office was anyone’s guess. Ansley always assumed the furniture was used for more naughty events in the Sheldon household.
“I should’ve known something like this would happen.”
“Daddy, taking this out on Brock and Rory won’t solve anything. We need to work together.”
He dragged his hand over his face and picked up the receiver once more. “Get me Sergeant Leo Selma in Bristol, Virginia.” A beat later, he said, “No, I don’t want to hold for the number. Connect me.”
“Dad, all I’m saying is that Brock loves her. Rory adores her. They wouldn’t have knowingly put her in danger.”
“Then they should’ve kept Mitch Colony out of her life!” he bellowed. “If they’d been doing their damn jobs as husbands, she wouldn’t have needed another man in her bed.”
Ansley froze. A door slammed in the distance and Kimberly entered the room about that time.
“Well look what the cats dragged in,” Daddy Kane said, turning his back to her.
Kimberly ignored him. “I got here as fast as I could.”
The sisters embraced.
“Any word?”
“Daddy Kane is working on it.”
“Where are the reasonable fathers?” Kimberly asked.
“They’re with your mother and the kids,” Kane bit out. “Where you should’ve been.”
“I’m here for Ansley.”
“You damn sure aren’t here for me.” Kane cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m calling for Sergeant Leo Selma. Tell him it’s Kane Cartwell from Fletcher, North Carolina.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Ansley said, tucking a fallen lock of hair behind Kimberly’s ear.