even see an intersection or another
traffic light. Farther up the road red lights blinked and the arms
of a railroad crossing began to descend. The end of the line. There
was nowhere else to go.
The clanging of the railroad signal was like a
death knell. Death at the hands of Marco. The way he had looked at
her, the licentiousness of his desires, made her flesh crawl with
the memory. She felt sick to her stomach.
"Damn you, Morgan Wolfe," she screamed. "Damn
you to hell!"
Her foot jammed down on the accelerator and
the Jaguar leaped toward the oncoming train.
Marco picked his teeth with his fingernail and
watched the one remaining tail light of Jaguar ahead of him. His
thoughts were lost in the fantasy of what he was planning to do to
Clarissa in the warehouse. This one he had been waiting for a long
time. It was not often that one of Morgan's women attracted him as
much as Clarissa. She had the same seductive looks and empty-headed
charm like the others but there was a feistiness about Clarissa
that excited Marco.
He knew he would have her eventually and Marco
was a very patient man. He was delighted when it happened so much
quicker than he expected. Usually he had to wait until Wolfe was
tired of them, set them up in some penthouse apartment for a while,
to which Marco had a master key. Wolfe could care less what
happened to them as long as the jewelry and cars were all accounted
for and the women could not legally touch him. Clarissa was
special. He could do whatever he wanted with her tonight without
the worry of arrest on rape charges, as long as she was dead by
dawn and her body disposed of with Roth's.
He grinned wide with anticipation as he
watched the railroad crossing arm go down across the road. He
wondered if she felt the terrifying realization that she was
finally snared, about to be reeled into Marco's deadly playpen.
Wolfe's warehouse was on the other side of the tracks and there was
no way out of the industrial park except back the way they had
come. Marco took a pair of handcuffs out of the glove compartment
and slipped them into his pocket. It was going to be one hell of a
party.
His pleasure turned to sudden rage as the
Jaguar shot forward.
"What the hell?" Marco swore loudly as he
grasped the revolver and slid open the Cadillac's sun roof. He
screeched to a stop, stood and braced his arms on the car's roof.
He could see the light from the train's engine illuminate the
crossing. The Jag wasn't even slowing. He had only seconds to stop
Clarissa's suicide run. He fired all of the rounds at the Jag's
tires. The right rear blew apart and the Jag spun wildly toward the
crossing.
Marco stared in fascination as the massive
engine reached the crossing as the Jaguar crashed through the
wooden arm. The Jag continued to spin as the engine clipped the
Jag's front fender and sent it smashing through the crossing arm on
the other side.
"You lousy damn bitch!" Marco screamed. He
slammed the car roof with his fists. "Shit!"
The train was a long one of nearly eighty
cars. Marco sat in the Cadillac thumbing bullets into the empty
chambers and slamming the silencer angrily against the palm of his
hand. Beneath the clacking train wheels, on the other side of the
crossing, he could see the Jaguar and its blown rear tire. He would
find her. He would make her wish she had been stillborn.
The last freight car passed the crossing and
Marco was across before the lights stopped flashing. He got out of
the Cadillac and approached the parked Jaguar. As he suspected, it
was empty. Clarissa was gone. Silently, with gun drawn, stalking
like a panther, he moved into the night.
CHAPTER 4
Clarissa opened her eyes. The Jag was facing
the train tracks. The crossing arm had shattered the rear window
already riddled with bullet holes. The right front fender was
crushed and the windshield cracked like a spider's web. Her mind
screamed out to her to move. Now. Before the train was past and
Marco could get to her.
The
traffic light. Farther up the road red lights blinked and the arms
of a railroad crossing began to descend. The end of the line. There
was nowhere else to go.
The clanging of the railroad signal was like a
death knell. Death at the hands of Marco. The way he had looked at
her, the licentiousness of his desires, made her flesh crawl with
the memory. She felt sick to her stomach.
"Damn you, Morgan Wolfe," she screamed. "Damn
you to hell!"
Her foot jammed down on the accelerator and
the Jaguar leaped toward the oncoming train.
Marco picked his teeth with his fingernail and
watched the one remaining tail light of Jaguar ahead of him. His
thoughts were lost in the fantasy of what he was planning to do to
Clarissa in the warehouse. This one he had been waiting for a long
time. It was not often that one of Morgan's women attracted him as
much as Clarissa. She had the same seductive looks and empty-headed
charm like the others but there was a feistiness about Clarissa
that excited Marco.
He knew he would have her eventually and Marco
was a very patient man. He was delighted when it happened so much
quicker than he expected. Usually he had to wait until Wolfe was
tired of them, set them up in some penthouse apartment for a while,
to which Marco had a master key. Wolfe could care less what
happened to them as long as the jewelry and cars were all accounted
for and the women could not legally touch him. Clarissa was
special. He could do whatever he wanted with her tonight without
the worry of arrest on rape charges, as long as she was dead by
dawn and her body disposed of with Roth's.
He grinned wide with anticipation as he
watched the railroad crossing arm go down across the road. He
wondered if she felt the terrifying realization that she was
finally snared, about to be reeled into Marco's deadly playpen.
Wolfe's warehouse was on the other side of the tracks and there was
no way out of the industrial park except back the way they had
come. Marco took a pair of handcuffs out of the glove compartment
and slipped them into his pocket. It was going to be one hell of a
party.
His pleasure turned to sudden rage as the
Jaguar shot forward.
"What the hell?" Marco swore loudly as he
grasped the revolver and slid open the Cadillac's sun roof. He
screeched to a stop, stood and braced his arms on the car's roof.
He could see the light from the train's engine illuminate the
crossing. The Jag wasn't even slowing. He had only seconds to stop
Clarissa's suicide run. He fired all of the rounds at the Jag's
tires. The right rear blew apart and the Jag spun wildly toward the
crossing.
Marco stared in fascination as the massive
engine reached the crossing as the Jaguar crashed through the
wooden arm. The Jag continued to spin as the engine clipped the
Jag's front fender and sent it smashing through the crossing arm on
the other side.
"You lousy damn bitch!" Marco screamed. He
slammed the car roof with his fists. "Shit!"
The train was a long one of nearly eighty
cars. Marco sat in the Cadillac thumbing bullets into the empty
chambers and slamming the silencer angrily against the palm of his
hand. Beneath the clacking train wheels, on the other side of the
crossing, he could see the Jaguar and its blown rear tire. He would
find her. He would make her wish she had been stillborn.
The last freight car passed the crossing and
Marco was across before the lights stopped flashing. He got out of
the Cadillac and approached the parked Jaguar. As he suspected, it
was empty. Clarissa was gone. Silently, with gun drawn, stalking
like a panther, he moved into the night.
CHAPTER 4
Clarissa opened her eyes. The Jag was facing
the train tracks. The crossing arm had shattered the rear window
already riddled with bullet holes. The right front fender was
crushed and the windshield cracked like a spider's web. Her mind
screamed out to her to move. Now. Before the train was past and
Marco could get to her.
The
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