Take Me, Outlaw(65)

Not much of a chance, maybe. But I'd take it over getting chopped up for parts like a stolen fucking car.



So:



Left.



Right.



Left.



Right, come on, give me a little something, baby, don't be a tease now.



Left, oh you motherfucker, you cunt, give just a bit, don't you fucking let me die here.



The chair arm under my remaining wrist pulled free with a small squeak, exposing the pointy tips of the rusty nails that had held it in place. Oh, thank fucking Christ.



Suddenly, I heard someone outside the door, and I quickly placed the chair arm back where it belonged. I had to play this perfectly. I knew I'd only get one shot.



I sure hope it's you, Tommy, because there is nothing in the world I want more right now than to snatch that scalpel from you, turn it sideways, and bury it in your narrow guinea ass. Fuck, it'd even be worth not getting out of here alive, as long as I get to give you a sharp metal suppository before I check out.



The door opened, and damned if I didn't get something even better.



Vole.



Dear Santa—thank you for the late Christmas gift. I promise that if I get out of this alive, I will never say an unkind word about your stupid fucking holiday ever again. I'll even leave out milk and cookies for you next year, you beautiful, fat, weird-looking bastard.



Vole was holding a pair of mouth-clamps in one hand, and his other was wrapped around a hammer and a sharp-looking chisel. His buck teeth were displayed in a nasty grin.



“Guess what day it is, you hacked-up menefreghista?” Vole sneered. “Today is Dentist Day! See, Tommy an' the other guys went to grab some lunch, an' they left me to keep an eye on you. But I figure, hey, they been workin' pretty hard. Why not prepare a little surprise for 'em when they get back, right?”



Oh, you have no idea, you fuckin' rodent. I tried to keep looking dazed and pathetic. The more harmless he thought I was, the better.



“So what I'm gonna do, see, is I'm gonna tape your head back an' put these clamps in your mouth. See 'em?” He held them up proudly, clicking them together. “Nice, right? I saw 'em in the window of a dental supply shop, an' call me sentimental, but I thought of you immediately. Yeah, I'm gonna prop that ugly ball-washer of yours open big an' wide, an' then I'm gonna use this hammer an' chisel to bust out every tooth you've got 'til you're left with a mouthful of gums. But yo, that ain't the best part! No, the best part is that when the other guys get back, you're gonna treat each of 'em to a nice, sloppy blowjob! Yeah, you're gonna chug down that cum like a champ!”



I said another silent prayer of gratitude for the loosened chair arm. Without it, it sounded like I'd have been in for a gnarly fuckin' afternoon.



“Well, let's get started, huh, tough guy?” Vole said, setting his supplies down next to the chair. He picked up the roll of duct tape, tore off a long strip, and prepared to position himself behind me. I knew it was now or never.



“Hope you've been flossing, or—”



The words snapped off in his mouth as I lifted my arm with the chair section taped to it and lashed out. The blow caught him in the temple, and when I pulled my arm back again, I saw that the nails had made a half-dozen holes in his face. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock. Another three or four steps, and he could slam the door behind him and trap me in here until the others came back.



Well, fuck that.



I reached down with the chair arm and used the nails to puncture and tear the duct tape around my legs, yanking them free. With that done, I could finally stand—but I lurched forward, my legs numb and shaking from lack of use. Vole was still backing away, and if I hesitated for another second, I'd lose my chance.



I leaned forward and launched myself at him like a missile, not caring if I could stay upright. I only cared whether I could keep my forward momentum going. The two IV holders fell forward, dragging behind me. Vole was outside the door, and his hand was already swinging it, trying to shut it in time. My torso flopped through before the door could close, and it slammed hard against my side, breaking a rib. I barely felt it.



My remaining hand clawed at Vole's torso, and the nails on the chair arm dug in again, scraping the flesh from his chest and belly in long red ribbons. He was squealing and flapping his arms in front of him uselessly.



This is for the sucker-smack with the metal pipe, you goddamn little weevil.



I brought the chair arm down on his head again and again, bludgeoning him as the nails stabbed his face into a bloody mess. Finally, he stopped struggling and flopped back limply, clearly dead.



I hit him a few more times just to be sure.



After that, I straightened up with difficulty and used my teeth to tear the remaining tape off my wrist, shaking off the gory chair segment. I used my good arm to yank out the IV needles, tossing them aside.



Looking around, it seemed like I was being held in a one-story house in one of the nicer suburbs. I had no idea which one or how long it would take to get back to the city, but I knew I'd better get started if I had a hope in hell of making enough distance before Tommy and the others got back.



I also knew that I'd better not make the trip bare-ass naked, unless I wanted the cops to pick me up before I could make it to the Nest.



I grabbed a blanket from the couch in the living room, wrapped it around myself, and bolted out the back door, running across the lawn and away from that goddamn chamber of horrors.



My teeth chattered loudly in the cold, but man, I didn't give a fuck.



I was just grateful I still had teeth.





Chapter Sixteen



Lauren



Well, that was the perfect ending to a perfect day.



I walked out of the casting director's office building, crumpling up the script pages and tossing them in the nearest trash can. I had been reading for a minor part—a sarcastic bank teller in a romantic comedy. It only would have been two scenes if I'd gotten it, but they were two important scenes featuring the lead actors, so at least I could have been reasonably certain that I would end up in the finished film instead of on the cutting room floor. I'd been extremely excited about it, since with a baby on the way, this was exactly the kind of break that could really help me out when I needed it most.



Unfortunately, the casting director was too busy chatting with his assistant about the hot date he'd had the previous night and didn't hear a word of my audition. I had asked whether he wanted me to reschedule, but he'd just flapped his hand at me impatiently to indicate that I should continue, then kept talking over me to enthusiastically describe every sexual position he'd engaged his date in as though I wasn't even in the room.



All I wanted was to go home and hop in the shower. I felt I needed one pretty badly after listening to the director's catalogue of lechery.



When I'd told my parents about my pregnancy, they were extremely supportive, and surprised me with an offer to give me one of their cars so I could get around the city more easily for my auditions and doctors' appointments.



The car was a cute little blue two-door from the early 2000s, and it had always served my parents well. They drove it out to me and we spent a few days together before they headed home again. So it was a heck of a surprise when a week after they'd left, the car stalled and died in the middle of Clark Street, making me late to an audition as I waited for the tow truck to show up and haul it to a garage for repairs.



The tow truck bill was almost two hundred dollars, and the garage told me that the car had a corroded battery which needed to be replaced for another two hundred. I had no idea where I was going to get that kind of money, especially with a baby on the way. Meanwhile, I was stuck walking everywhere. I couldn't even spend money on the CTA, since I knew I'd need to save every penny to put toward the new battery.



So not only had the audition been a disaster, but now I had to walk from the West Loop all the way up to North and Clybourn, which was bound to take at least a couple of hours. And it was already dark out.



Swell.



As I trudged my way up through the west side, I walked past a pair of dark sedans parked under a street light. There were three men leaning against the cars, talking to each other quietly. Two of them were wearing track suits, while the third sported a designer suit that probably cost more than I made in a year. When they saw me passing by, the one in the suit wolf-whistled at me, and the other two followed his lead.



“Yo, lady!” he called out. “Hold up, I got a question for you! Come back!”



I tried to walk faster, figuring I'd be safe if I could just get to the well-lit major avenue up the block. There would be more traffic there, plus shops and restaurants. If things got bad, I could duck into one of them so I'd be surrounded by people. The street I was on was completely residential and way too many of those windows had their shades drawn for me to feel comfortable.



The three men jogged up to me, and the one in the suit stepped directly in front of me, blocking my path. He made a big show of being winded, clutching his chest as he huffed and puffed dramatically.



“Jeez, lady! What are you, trainin' for a freakin' marathon or somethin'? A guy says he's got a question for you, an' you run away? What kinda way is that to behave?”



I could feel the other two men hovering behind me, and I clutched my purse as tightly as I could. These men weren't dressed like muggers. I wasn't eager to consider what they might want from me instead.