The Killing Kind Page 19

  lord_ruthven: I’m not sure what to believe, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m glad you seem to be okay.

  Mixedupgirl: You know what? You’re the only person back home I don’t want to drop down a black fucking hole. No bullshit. Still not gonna fuck you, though.

  lord_ruthven: Thanks…I guess. What about Alicia?

  Mixedupgirl: Fuck her. Seems she told the cops about my bullshit “crush” on John. Next time I see her I’m gonna chop her fucking head off.

  lord_ruthven: Hah. Now I really know you’re okay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  March 25

  Three hours of lazing about on the beach and splashing in the ocean was more than enough for Chuck. He needed a break from the sun. He gathered up his towel and empty Corona bottles and told Zoe he was going back to the house to take a shower. Zoe smiled and told him she’d be up in a little bit. He leaned down for a kiss, felt her tongue slip into his mouth, and grinned.

  “Sure you don’t want to take that shower with me?”

  She smiled. “Maybe later?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. A guy can never get too clean.”

  He went up the beach toward the house, climbing first over a grassy dune and then traversing a short bridge to the fence that surrounded the swimming pool out back. He opened the gate and stepped inside, pausing long enough to blast sand from his feet with a hose. He entered the house through the bottom floor, padded on wet feet to the staircase, and began to climb toward the third floor. He stopped on the second-floor landing when he heard a feminine moan, very faint, emanating from one of the rooms down the short hallway. He turned and stared down the hallway. There were two rooms. Two doors. The one on the right was shut, the one on the left partly cracked. The sound came again. Definitely feminine. Chuck’s penis twitched in his swim trunks.

  God, I’m horny.

  All that time spent baking in the sun and staring at the wide array of bare female flesh in the vicinity had him worked up. He suddenly wished he’d tried harder to lure Zoe back to the house. He wanted to have some of the same kind of fun someone in one of these rooms was having. He was pretty sure the sound was coming from the partially cracked door. A need to know who it was seized him. He was surprised. He wasn’t normally given to voyeurism, but there was no denying the intensity of the desire. He glanced up the next set of stairs leading to the third floor. Empty. He then checked the stairs leading back to the first floor. Also clear. He took a deep breath and began to move as quietly as possible down the hallway.

  This is crazy. What if somebody catches me peeking?

  It was a good question. He had no business doing this. It was risky as hell. Yet the impulse was just too powerful to resist. He reached the partly open door and peered through the crack.

  He stifled a gasp.

  Annalisa and Emily were making out on the bed. They were prone on the mattress, with Annalisa on top. Chuck’s erection pushed painfully against the fabric of his trunks as he watched the two women writhe and kiss. Annalisa didn’t have a top on, just shorts, and Emily was in that tiny white bikini. There was nothing tender about what he was seeing. They were kissing with such hunger, almost as if they were trying to consume each other. Chuck couldn’t believe it. The two were Zoe’s best friends, but he had been pretty sure they loathed each other. But you could never underestimate Emily. He was sure she was the instigator here. Yet he couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d seduced Annalisa.

  Annalisa broke off the kiss and sat up, straddling Emily. “I wanna sit on your face.”

  She unbuttoned her shorts and twisted around to shimmy out of them. Chuck swallowed a lump in his throat and fought an urge to reach into his trunks. Voyeurism was one thing, but he’d be damned if he’d risk someone catching him in the act of jerking off in the hallway. A thought occurred to him, something that made him frown. Why was the door open? Talk about risky. But it was obvious, wasn’t it? It had been done on purpose, probably by Emily. That’d be just like her. She wanted someone to see this.

  He heard a voice from downstairs just as Annalisa began to position herself over Emily’s face.

  Joe.

  Chuck moved away from the door and hurried up the stairs to the third floor. Heart slamming, he headed to the bar. He needed a drink and he needed it now. The shower could wait. He stepped behind the bar and scanned the rows of liquor bottles, again silently thanking his father for thinking of everything. His dad had a very open mind on the subject of underage drinking. Which made sense, as he’d been quite the tippler since his own teenage days. Chuck had been sharing drinks with his father for years. Some would label the behavior child abuse. Dad just saw it as continuing a tradition.

  Chuck dumped ice in a rocks glass and filled it to the rim with Johnnie Walker Black. He had half of it down by the time Joe came thumping up the stairs into the living room. He spotted Chuck at the bar and grinned. His trunks were wet and his feet were coated with sand.

  Chuck nodded at his feet. “You’re tracking sand everywhere, asshole.”

  Joe shrugged and came over to the bar. “Ain’t like we live here, man. Shit gets dirty, so what? The housekeepers can deal with it. Give me some of what you’re having.”

  Chuck prepared another drink and passed it to Joe. “There. I should throw it in your fucking face, though.”

  Joe’s grin faltered. “I do something, man? I didn’t do it, whatever it is, I swear.”

  “So you and Emily didn’t screw around with Zoe the night I got the shit beat out of me at that bar?”

  “At the bar? I thought it happened outside.”

  “Never mind that. Answer the question.”

  “What do you mean, ‘screw around’?”

  “You know what I mean, motherfucker.”

  “Chuck…come on. We’re friends. Don’t be like this.”

  Chuck squeezed the rocks glass. Hard. Another ounce or so of pressure and it would shatter in his hand. He ached to release it and use his fist as a battering ram against Joe’s face. The need to lash out was almost overwhelming. This wasn’t new. A potential for violence had been simmering just below the surface ever since that night at the bar. He wanted revenge against the people who’d beaten him, but he couldn’t have that. He was too afraid of them. They were genuine sociopaths. Hardened criminals. Just the thought of ever confronting them again paralyzed him with fear.

  But Joe was another story. He wasn’t afraid of him at all.

  His grin felt ugly. Probably looked even worse. “When I came back that night, after nearly getting my ass fucking killed, I couldn’t find Zoe. I came over to your room, but I didn’t knock. I stood at your door and listened for a long time, Joe.”

  Joe’s face began to turn pale. “Chuck—”

  “Shut up. It was hard to tell what was going on in there at first. It was a lot of damn noise. A big fucking party, from the sound of it. I didn’t leave until I heard something I’d recognize anywhere. Wanna guess what that was, friend?”

  Chuck waited a beat. Joe didn’t say anything.

  “It was Zoe having an orgasm. She’s a loud one, isn’t she?”

  Joe knocked back his drink and set the glass on the bar. “You know what, man? You can shove this high-and-mighty shit right up your fucking ass. Seriously, where do you get off? You think I don’t know you fucked Emily the same night?”

  “What?”

  Joe’s grin returned. “Yeah, she told me. Hell, she told me right after.”

  Chuck seethed inwardly. What Joe was saying astounded him, yet he had no reason to doubt it. And if she’d told Joe, why wouldn’t she have told Zoe? Hell, maybe she had and Zoe had simply decided to let it go in light of the beating he’d taken.

  “What the fuck is wrong with your girlfriend?”

  Joe frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Why would she tell you about that?”

  Joe laughed. “Man, she always tells me. We have an open relationship. It’s a whole swinging-seventies thing.”

&n
bsp; “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah. Why not? It goes both ways, you know.” He grinned. “Sort of. She gets to fuck whoever she wants, and I get to fuck whoever she tells me to fuck. And she’s such a freak that I wind up fucking a lot of people, man.”

  “Nice.”

  Joe laughed again. “No shit.” He picked up his glass. “Now how’s about a refill?”

  “Get it yourself, douche bag.”

  Chuck left Joe standing alone at the bar as he walked through the living room and then down the hallway that led to the big master bedroom he shared with Zoe. He shut the door, stripped down, and went into the bathroom. He stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on, adjusting the temperature to a point just shy of scalding. The water felt good rushing over him. The steam felt good, too. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of all the things that were pissing him off, because there were just too many of them. As he began to relax, his mind drifted back to his brief glimpse of Annalisa squatting over Emily’s face. A predictable physical result ensued.

  His eyes snapped open when he heard the stall door open.

  Emily peeked inside. She looked him up and down, smirking at the sight of his hand clenched around his erection. “Joe told me about your little spat. Said you could probably use some consoling. But, ah…” She laughed. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  She started to step into the shower stall.

  Chuck stared at her.

  She was naked.

  And she looked as enticing as ever. More.

  He knew he should tell her to go away. But desire overwhelmed his better judgment. He reached for her and pulled her into the stall. She laughed as his hands pawed at her. That mocking quality he recalled from the encounter in the van was there again. A wave of self-hatred assailed him. His erection began to wilt. He stopped kissing Emily and gripped her by the shoulders, prying her off of him.

  Her expression was a mixture of confusion and anger. “What the fuck?”

  “You’re getting out.”

  He steered her back toward the open stall door, turned her around, and gave her a hard shove in the back. She cried out as she stumbled out of the stall and fell clumsily to the floor. Her knees smacked the plush bathroom rug and she cried out again. She got up and glared at Chuck. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Get out, Emily. Now.”

  She made no move to leave. “You could have hurt me. That was assault, Chuck. I could call the cops.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you do. Just get out.”

  “You’ll give a shit when I tell them you tried to rape me.”

  Chuck smirked. “You do that. And maybe they won’t laugh in your face when they find out what a gigantic fucking slut you are.”

  Her glare turned murderous. She retrieved her bikini from the towel rack and began to put it on. “Nothing good ever comes of pissing me off, Chuck. I’ll put you in your place before long. You’ll see.”

  She was gone before he could respond.

  Chuck closed the stall door and stepped under the spray again, a smile stretching across his face as the hot water streamed down his body. He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her vow to get back at him. She would try to exact revenge, somehow, some way. But for the moment it didn’t matter. He felt like he’d won something. It was a little thing, really, but it felt important to him.

  He’d made a stand.

  And hadn’t given in to temptation.

  He felt a small flicker of some initially unidentifiable emotion. He needed a few moments to recognize it as something resembling pride. He felt good about something he’d done.

  He smiled again.

  It’d been a long time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  March 26

  Rob was getting pretty sick of motel rooms. Roxie preferred to stay in the real sleaze pits to conserve cash and blend in with the other shady characters. The Starline Economy Inn, located on US 17 just outside of Myrtle Beach, was typical of the type. These dumps all looked basically the same, with some small variations in overall grime level to spice things up. He was missing the small but neat and comfortable apartment he shared with Lindsey a little more each day. He was weary of all the killing and drama, of course, but an even bigger factor in his deepening disenchantment with the situation was Julie Cosgrove.

  He stared at her from his seat by the table. She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, with the stolen notebook computer propped open in her lap. Her eyes were intent on the glowing screen as her fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard. Every so often she’d start typing a little faster and a little harder, and when she did this, the tip of her tongue would emerge at a corner of her mouth and stay there until the typing pace slowed again. The girl was a fucking Internet junkie. Even Roxie, who generally treated her like a long-lost little sister, was showing signs of annoyance with the girl’s online obsessions.

  She laughed at something on the screen and her fingers started flying over the keyboard again.

  Rob shook his head and took a slow pull from a longneck Bud bottle.

  He and Roxie had been sort of flying under the radar, but Julie’s face was all over the cable news networks and the front pages of newspapers nationwide. She was a missing cute white girl and the media thrived on that shit. At least she’d done some things to alter her appearance. The hair was the most obvious thing. It made her look like Linnea Quigley in Return of the Living Dead. The shoulder tattoo and the eyebrow piercing helped some. Neither, obviously, were in any of the pictures circulating. Some subtle makeup tips from Roxie even seemed to change the shape of her face a little. But if you stared at her long and hard enough, it was still possible to discern the girl from the pictures. He was worried someone would guess who she was and bring the law down on them in a hurry.

  Roxie came out of the bathroom wearing a black skull shirt and the short black skirt he liked. She scrubbed her wet hair with a towel and tossed the towel aside. She saw Rob staring at her and struck a pose, placing a hand on a thrust-out hip. “You like?”

  Rob swallowed. “Yeah.”

  Roxie smiled. “Julie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take that thing in the bathroom.”

  “Huh?” Julie stopped typing. “Why should I…? Oh. That skirt is hot.”

  Roxie didn’t look at her. “Bathroom. Now.”

  Julie got up from the bed with a huff. “I don’t see why I have to hide somewhere every time you guys fuck. Can’t I stay out here and watch?”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “No.” Now Roxie did look at her. “That’s final. Now go.”

  Julie huffed and stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. A few muffled curses emanated from the bathroom, but she soon fell silent and they again heard the dim sound of fingers tapping keys.

  “We should take that fucking thing away from her. Sooner or later she’ll say something online that’ll give us away.”

  “I doubt it. She’s smarter than you think.”

  “You’re not worried at all?”

  Roxie strutted over to him and leaned over him, bracing her hands on the arms of the chair. “Only thing I’m worried about right now is your failure to tear my slutty clothes off and ravish the fuck out of me.”

  Rob slid a hand up her leg and under her skirt. “No panties.”

  She giggled. “You like me, Rob?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A lot.”

  “God, yes.”

  Another giggle. “So show me.”

  He showed her.

  When it was over, Julie came out of the bathroom with the closed laptop tucked under her arm. She smirked at the sight of their curled-together nude bodies. “Guess what?”

  Roxie raised her head off Rob’s chest. “What?”

  “Once you guys got started, I opened the door a crack and watched.”

  Rob groaned. “Jesus.”

  “It was a pretty good show. My favorit
e part was—”

  Roxie threw a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

  Julie dodged the pillow and took a seat at the table, where she once again opened the laptop.

  Roxie looked at Rob. “Maybe you’re right about that thing.”

  “You’re not taking my laptop. I’ll crack your skulls open and eat your brains if you try.”

  “Eat our brains?”

  “You heard me.”

  Roxie glanced at Rob and rolled her eyes. “Kids.”

  Julie snorted. “You’re barely any older than me.”

  “Old enough to make a difference.”

  “What, three or four years? Yeah, big fucking difference.”

  Roxie rolled off the bed and gathered up her clothes. Rob followed her cue and did the same thing.

  Roxie pulled on her T-shirt and stepped into the little skirt. “You are being careful, right? Not saying or doing anything that might lead the cops to our door?”

  “Whatever. I heard your little discussion. More of that treating-me-like-a-child bullshit. Relax. I’m doing all my posting and shit behind a proxy server to disguise the IP address. And I’m not saying anything that’ll give away our location.” She looked up from the keyboard to glare at them. “Okay? Happy?”

  Rob finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed. “Listen…there’s something we should all talk about.”

  Roxie and Julie traded puzzled glances.

  Roxie folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Gosh, that sounds serious. Is this gonna piss me off, Rob?”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “So spit it out.”

  “This thing with the spring breakers. We’re doing it tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. So…what comes after that?”

  Roxie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Rob sighed. “I’ve been thinking…we can’t maintain this lifestyle forever. It’s a dead end.”

  “I guess you have some alternative in mind.”