engulfing her in its mighty power.
She hugged deeper into her clothes, seeking warmth. One wooden chair remained in the room, so close she could touch it, but she stood stiffly. Then Ira pulled out his knife and a small whetstone, and she shuddered.
The dirt in the house invaded her mind as much as the cold. She needed things clean and neat and orderly. She couldn’t bear the sight of filth. Was it because of the abandoned houses she had hidden in as a child, their roofs collapsed by mortar shells?
Images returned of that first night. She had crawled into a hole under a stairway and huddled there amidst the dirt, listening to the rustle of rats, kicking at them as they boldly tried to bite her. She had cowered from the sound of footsteps.
She had even run when she’d first seen her father two days later, not recognizing him in the dim light.
"Mary." Ramone spoke, his voice sickly sweet. "Come here"
"What?" Returning to the present, she stared blankly around.
"Over here." He pointed to her sleeping bag, unzipped and thrown open on a filthy mattress near the wall.
She started to take a step, but faltered, the evil anticipation in his eyes sickening her. "Why?"
"Time to play."
She glanced at the bag, then back at Ramone. "No!"
"Oh, yes. I make the rules here, girly."
He leered at her, his voice with its cruel overtones turning her stomach to ice. Throwing up her hands, Mary backed away.
He followed and grabbed for her hair, missing as she ducked. "We've got all night."
"No!" Mary screamed. She threw herself behind Judd, shoving his unyielding bulk toward Ramone. "Keep him away from me. Please!"
Frantically, she clawed at Judd’s arm, her knuckles white as she clutched the slick fabric of his coat sleeve. "You're the boss. Stop him."
He stared at her in disdain. "Why?"
10
Mary cringed as Ramone fingered the wooden back of the old chair with a sensuousness that had nothing to do with the feel of the grain. He stroked it as if it were the softness of her skin.
Bile rose, strong and bitter. Time stopped.
Outside the isolated farmhouse the rain beat down, the rising wind forcing water through the cracks in the shattered windows. Inside the three candles sputtered in protest, sending dark smoke trails twisting upward, casting long web-like shadows across the moldy walls.
"Keep him away," Mary repeated, clutching Judd's arm.
With an oath, Judd grabbed her hand and threw it aside. " I don't baby-sit my men."
"But you must. Stop him," she demanded, panic rocketing upward, overwhelming her. The room swayed and grew darker as the blackness invaded her mind. "Don't you understand?"
"Stop him yourself," Judd said with a snarl.
Mary cringed, unable to break away from Ramone's gaze. His face became the only object in the room.
"No!" She stepped backwards, one hand reaching out to hold back the unthinkable. “No!" She kicked a cardboard box aside roughly, and backed up four more steps. Five. Six.
Ramone stalked her easily, his intent evident. He licked his lips and walked closer, his fingers beckoning her.
Then someone grabbed Mary from behind, and Ramone stopped, scowling in anger. “Keep outta this,” he snarled.
Mary glanced over her shoulder at Ira's knife-scarred face and close-cropped, military-style haircut. He held his knife in his right hand, its blade gleaming as it moved like a deadly cobra. His grip tightened and she struggled, crazed with terror as her mind clicked back to the men who had attacked her mother.
The room swirled. She collapsed into blackness.
Entering through the kitchen, Connor dropped the buckets of water, instantly alert. Something was wrong. He could see the worried indecision on the thugs' faces.
"Daddy! Daddy!" Mary's voice— and yet it wasn't. It sounded like a child's terrified cry.
Connor charged into the main room where Ramone and Judd stood opposite Ira and Mary. The lanky killer stood behind Mary, a knife in one hand— held away from her, but there,
She hugged deeper into her clothes, seeking warmth. One wooden chair remained in the room, so close she could touch it, but she stood stiffly. Then Ira pulled out his knife and a small whetstone, and she shuddered.
The dirt in the house invaded her mind as much as the cold. She needed things clean and neat and orderly. She couldn’t bear the sight of filth. Was it because of the abandoned houses she had hidden in as a child, their roofs collapsed by mortar shells?
Images returned of that first night. She had crawled into a hole under a stairway and huddled there amidst the dirt, listening to the rustle of rats, kicking at them as they boldly tried to bite her. She had cowered from the sound of footsteps.
She had even run when she’d first seen her father two days later, not recognizing him in the dim light.
"Mary." Ramone spoke, his voice sickly sweet. "Come here"
"What?" Returning to the present, she stared blankly around.
"Over here." He pointed to her sleeping bag, unzipped and thrown open on a filthy mattress near the wall.
She started to take a step, but faltered, the evil anticipation in his eyes sickening her. "Why?"
"Time to play."
She glanced at the bag, then back at Ramone. "No!"
"Oh, yes. I make the rules here, girly."
He leered at her, his voice with its cruel overtones turning her stomach to ice. Throwing up her hands, Mary backed away.
He followed and grabbed for her hair, missing as she ducked. "We've got all night."
"No!" Mary screamed. She threw herself behind Judd, shoving his unyielding bulk toward Ramone. "Keep him away from me. Please!"
Frantically, she clawed at Judd’s arm, her knuckles white as she clutched the slick fabric of his coat sleeve. "You're the boss. Stop him."
He stared at her in disdain. "Why?"
10
Mary cringed as Ramone fingered the wooden back of the old chair with a sensuousness that had nothing to do with the feel of the grain. He stroked it as if it were the softness of her skin.
Bile rose, strong and bitter. Time stopped.
Outside the isolated farmhouse the rain beat down, the rising wind forcing water through the cracks in the shattered windows. Inside the three candles sputtered in protest, sending dark smoke trails twisting upward, casting long web-like shadows across the moldy walls.
"Keep him away," Mary repeated, clutching Judd's arm.
With an oath, Judd grabbed her hand and threw it aside. " I don't baby-sit my men."
"But you must. Stop him," she demanded, panic rocketing upward, overwhelming her. The room swayed and grew darker as the blackness invaded her mind. "Don't you understand?"
"Stop him yourself," Judd said with a snarl.
Mary cringed, unable to break away from Ramone's gaze. His face became the only object in the room.
"No!" She stepped backwards, one hand reaching out to hold back the unthinkable. “No!" She kicked a cardboard box aside roughly, and backed up four more steps. Five. Six.
Ramone stalked her easily, his intent evident. He licked his lips and walked closer, his fingers beckoning her.
Then someone grabbed Mary from behind, and Ramone stopped, scowling in anger. “Keep outta this,” he snarled.
Mary glanced over her shoulder at Ira's knife-scarred face and close-cropped, military-style haircut. He held his knife in his right hand, its blade gleaming as it moved like a deadly cobra. His grip tightened and she struggled, crazed with terror as her mind clicked back to the men who had attacked her mother.
The room swirled. She collapsed into blackness.
Entering through the kitchen, Connor dropped the buckets of water, instantly alert. Something was wrong. He could see the worried indecision on the thugs' faces.
"Daddy! Daddy!" Mary's voice— and yet it wasn't. It sounded like a child's terrified cry.
Connor charged into the main room where Ramone and Judd stood opposite Ira and Mary. The lanky killer stood behind Mary, a knife in one hand— held away from her, but there,
Similar Books
