DARK BLISS (Dangerous Games,) (2 page)

Right.
And the second he did, Godzilla was going to poke the gun in his back and march him over the rise, check out the posse shit. Well, now or never. Just like old times in the sand box.

“Did you fucking hear—“

L
ying
bound between the two stakes, I saw the big man pull his gun and tell the other to leave. The stranger didn’t move. The big one started to say something else and suddenly the stranger’s arm was a blur and an instant later the other screamed. He dropped the weapon and clutched at the knife sunk in his chest. Blood jetted like a geyser and he crumpled to the ground.

Carlos
reacted a second later, while I was still staring in stunned disbelief. He lunged at the stranger, thrusting the red hot branding iron like a sword. The man dodged it, though only barely. Carlos swept the iron left to right and back, forcing the stranger backward. At the same time he fumbled with his left hand for the gun stuck in his belt. He pulled it out and brought it up to fire but the action divided his attention. In that instant the stranger kicked out, connecting his boot with the hand holding the branding iron. Carlos yelled in pain and the iron went flying, landing only inches from me. I shrieked and twisted my body as far from it as possible.

Carlos f
ired, the sound so loud it hurt my ears. The stranger hurled himself at the gunman, smashing into him just as he got off another shot. The two tumbled out of my field of vision. I heard the noise of blows and curses and then the sickening crack of breaking bone, followed by a gasp and gurgle.

Then silence. No, not silence, a low moaning that I realized came from the big man. How could he still be alive?

The other two, which of them was dead? What if both were? Surrounded by three dead men, I might lie here for days until I died of dehydration or wild animals.

These thoughts filled my mind for what seemed hours, though it must have been less than a minute before a face
loomed just above mine as the stranger crouched next to me.

It wasn’t exactly a handsome face, not in any conventional way.
It had too many lines and angles and the nose looked like it had been broken at one time. It was unshaven with one or two days worth of stubble and there was an ugly scar running across one cheek. It was a hard face, belonging to a man somewhere in his thirties with what looked like several lifetimes of experience. A curl of jet black hair hung down over his swarthy skin. One ear sported a small cold earring.

But
it was his eyes that seized me. Their austere beauty made up for everything rough and misshapen in his other features. They were ice-blue, frightening in their intensity, and I flinched under their piercing gaze. I felt like I was being inspected by a bird of prey, an eagle or hawk.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was low, a rumbly baritone that buffeted me inside almost as much as his eyes.

“Doan thin so,” I rasped dry-mouthed through the leather strap. “Ah yoo?”

“
Not too bad,” he said dismissively. “Bastard nicked me with the iron.” He rose. I looked up from the ground at the figure that towered above me and felt both safe and strangely vulnerable. The man had saved me but there was danger in him too. That wasn’t what made me feel uneasy though. It was something in myself that was responding to something in him. I sensed that he’d been in emotional places I knew nothing about, that I never wanted to know. And yet…

He stepped away. “I’ll cut you loose.”
He bent over the big man, who lay curled on his side. He grabbed the other’s shirt and pulled him onto his back. The stranger planted a boot on his chest and gripped the knife handle. I turned my head. I didn’t want to see this. There was a wet, sucking sound and another scream, followed by an oath.

“
Whah hathen?” I cried, head still turned, fearful that somehow the big man had managed to injure him. “Ah yoo ah rie?”

“Yeah but I’m bloody as hell. Gushed up
on me. Happens sometimes. One more thing to do, then I’ll get you free.”

I turned. His face and chest were drenched in blood.
Despite my gag, I almost threw up, barely managing to keep the vomit down.

He walked out of sight.
Then a gunshot roared only feet away, hammering my eardrums. I shrieked, startled and also baffled. What was he shooting at? He reappeared in my field of vision and pointed the gun at the head of the big man. I quickly turned my face away again. Another gunshot, though this time I managed not to shriek.

A moment later,
I saw the stranger’s boot kick the glowing brand away. He knelt and began to saw at the ropes around my wrists. He trickled dead man’s blood on my arms, making me flinch.

“
Why shoo um?” I asked.

“To make sure they’re dead. People only die right away in the movies.”

He had killed the two men for the same reason you’d put down a suffering animal, to end their misery. It was a cold mercy, but mercy just the same.

“Kindneth?”
I said. Even through the gag, my voice must have registered my astonishment. Though he’d saved me, kindness wasn’t something I found in his face or voice. Whatever else he was, this man was no saint.

He gave a bitter bark of a laugh.
“Not kindness, I’m afraid. Friends of these two may come looking for them. Unlikely, but one or the other might still be alive. Might even be walking around in a year, looking for me. I’ve seen men hurt that bad survive. This way, I won’t have to worry about ‘em talking or walking.” He turned to look at me. “Neither will you.”

He severed the last rope around my wrists and helped me sit up, then
unbuckled the leather strap. I spat it out, then spat again, trying to rid my mouth of its vile taste.

He moved to my feet and began cutting the rope around my ankles.

I massaged my sore wrists; they were red and carried the angry impression of the ropes. “They were going to
brand
me!” I cried with mixed anger and lingering terror.

He nodded grimly.
“Couple of psychos. Got their kicks this way.”

“
The one called Carlos said it was orders.”

He stopped cutting and looked at me. “Orders? Whose orders?”

“He didn’t say. Do people like this really brand women?”

He shook his head. “They don’t. They treat women like cattle all right but they don’t bran
d them.”

“But you told them I was worth more without the brand.”

“I was as surprised as you. Said the first thing that came to mind. Just trying to stall them until I was close enough to use the knife.”

I felt the tension around my ankles vanish as the last bond was cut. He stood. “How long were you tied up?”

“I do
n’t know. Forever, it felt like! Maybe a couple of hours in the car, another hour out here.”

“Well, massage your ankles before you try to stand. Chances are they’re a little numb. Don’t
get up until you feel them tingle. I’d do it but I’d just get more blood on you. I’m going to see if they’ve got a rag or something I can use to clean up.”

He walked to the SUV and poked inside until he found a shirt, which he used to wipe off the blood.
I kneaded my ankles and watched him, the first chance I had to study the man without being terrified or tethered. The way he’d talked about not standing made me wonder if he was speaking from experience. As a captive or captor?

I looked around. What a Godforsaken place! Incredible that he’d been out here just at this moment. Then my eye was caught by the lawn chairs and barbecue grill. The bastards!
A couple of sick sadists.

The vomit that I’d kept down earlier came back and this time I let myself throw
up. The stranger said nothing but he got something from the cooler. He came over. “Throat’s dry, I expect.”

“Horribly.”

“Couldn’t find any water.” He handed me a small jug of Gatorade. I took a long, deep drink.

“Don’t drink too much. You’ll just throw up again. Wait a minut
e or two.” He went to the cooler and popped a can of beer. Instead of drinking it, however, he poured it on himself and continued to wipe, which he did for several minutes. When he was done, he poured beer on his knife and carefully cleaned the blade and handle.

When I was little, at holidays I would watch my
parents’ longtime maid polishing the family silver: candlestick holders, serving platters, teapot, creamer, cake knife. It took her days to work through all the pieces, getting every spot of tarnish off. Rock gave no less time and attention to his weapon, inspecting and rubbing it as someone would a precious object. To him, it was clearly as valuable, probably more so. I guessed this wasn’t the first time it had saved his life.

And that was my first
long look at Miguel Roca, though few called him anything but “Rock.” He stood there washing blood off himself with a can of beer as casually as anyone else would hose themselves after yard work, like a man with a long familiarity with alcohol and blood and blades.

I began to shiver. Maybe a delayed response to what had happened, maybe to what might.

R
ock
finished cleaning himself and tossed the shirt away. The girl was standing now, wobbly but on her feet. She had grit. After an experience like this, most women would be hysterical.

She was tall
and pretty. Hell, she was beautiful. Shiny red hair, high cheekbones, pointed chin. She came from money; that was obvious: the way she talked, held herself, her clothes – casual but chic, her jewelry – gold and understated.

She turned
her back to him and lifted her dress to adjust her panties. He knew he should look away but he couldn’t help himself. She was wearing pink panties and her round ass filled them out nicely. He felt his cock stir. Damn Jones had no sense of time or place.

Searching for distraction, he remembered an oddity about how she was bound. He crouched beside one of the stakes. Besides the rope, there was a snipped plastic cuff. He looked at the other stake, where there was another severed cuff. “
Funny,” he muttered.

“
What’s funny?”

“
Funny odd. Looks like they bound you with flex, then cut ‘em off.”

“They
tied me with something else. I couldn’t see what. My hands were behind my back. When they got me out of the SUV, they cut that off and tied my hands in front.”

“
I see now. The flex wouldn’t reach the stake, so they retied you with rope.”

“What
is flex?”

He picked one up to show her. “This.
Plastic strips with notches. Works just as good as handcuffs. Cops use them.”

“Where did these two get them?”

“Online, I imagine. Anyone can buy them.”

“They can? Why?”

That was a question he didn’t want to fully answer. He shrugged. “Why do people do anything? They’re convenient, useful for kidnapping apparently.”

But the bastards were going to brand her.
What the hell was that about? “Orders,” they’d told the girl. Was that a dumb joke or had they really been hired to grab her and mark her? And for
who
? Well, not his problem. Time to get the hell out of here, get this girl off his hands.

He popped
a couple of beers and poured them on the grill. The coals hissed and steamed. Unlikely a mischance would start a fire out here but best to be on the safe side. Country was dry as a tinderbox.

The girl came up next to him
, walking all right now. “What do we do now? Call the
policia
?”

He looked at her. “Where were you snatched?”

“Tuláz.”

“
We’re a long way from Tuláz. This is between towns, falls into the jurisdiction of the state police. Were you staying there?”

“Yes. At the Viceroy.”

“I’ll take you there. Once you’re back, you can decide if you want to report this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one will doubt your story, especially once they see the bodies, but when you come to the part about the guy who saved you, they’re going to want to know where he is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I won’t be around.”

“But you’re a hero!”

“Not to any friends of these two. And I don’t want to have anything to do with the
policia
. I’ve been keeping a low profile since I moved here. I don’t want to come to anyone’s attention, especially cops.”

“You’re just going to take me back and drop me off? Who do you think you are? The Lone Ranger?”

“Look, I’m glad I was here just now but I don’t want to get involved in an investigation. Not convenient.”

“
All right but I don’t even know your name.”

“And I don’t know your
s. Let’s keep it that way.”

“I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth. You didn’t pick me up in a bar,
you saved my fucking life
!”

“Which is why you shouldn’t yell at me.”

She drew a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just a little stressed, you know? Listen, Mystery Man, would you do just one thing for me, one little thing?”

“What’s that?” Rock said warily.

“Would you put your arms around me?” She moved toward Rock and he instinctively folded his arms around her. “You don’t have to kiss me or anything. Just hold me for a couple of minutes because… because I think I’m going to…”

She suddenly began to sob. Tears spouted and
trickled down her face. Rock held her, arms around her shoulders and back, the way you’d hold your mother or sister at a family funeral, arms tight but not too tight, an embrace of consolation or, in this case, reassurance but nothing more, nothing that implied a deeper bond because the truth was there wasn’t any. He didn’t know this girl and though he felt sympathy and an instinctive male urge to protect, nothing else.

No, that was
not quite true because he also felt a familiar stir between his legs
. Oh, God, no. No, Jones! Not now.
He reached mentally back to a karate instructor who had taught him to empty his mind. Inhale: slow, deep. Again. Still the mind. Still the body.

She pressed her head against his chest and bawled until his shirt
was damp. From time to time, he patted her back. After a few minutes, she began to ease up and he told himself he should say something, not just stand there like a piece of dead meat.

“There, there,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing
tone. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.” He felt awkward. It had been years since he’d held a woman like this, talked tenderly to her. There had been women of course but none that inspired anything more than passing affection and gratitude for a nice fuck. None that got into his heart. This one wasn’t going to either.

“I’m all right now,” she said finally. He
pulled his arms away and dug in his pocket for a couple of napkins from his last meal at a taqueria. He handed them to her. “Sorry, afraid I don’t have a handkerchief.”

She
wiped her face. “This is fine. Thank you. I just thought of something.”

“What’s that?”

“I dropped my purse when they grabbed me. It had my ID, phone, credit cards.”

“Where did you drop it?”

“A parking lot.”

“They did this in a parking lot in the middle of Tuláz?”

“Yes. They were fast. They’d parked their SUV next to mine.”

“Even so. That was brazen. There was an attendant?”

“Yes, in a little booth at the entrance.”

“They may have bribe
d him. In any case, I wouldn’t count on seeing your purse again. What about your passport? Did you lose that too?”

“
No that’s still at the hotel, thank God.” She sighed. “I’ll just have to wire Richard for money.”

“
Richard is your husband?”

She shook her head. “
A family friend. I’m staying with him and his wife. He’s managed our investments since before I was born. Sort of a second father to me. Mom and Daddy had a great marriage but it was a May-December thing. Mom died of cancer two years ago. Daddy’s seventy-two and frail. He wants to sell the mansion, so it’s being renovated. He’s staying with Aunt Angela in New York but since I’m still going to BU–”

“BU?”

“Boston University. I’m sorry. I’m babbling. You don’t need to know my life story. What I mean is Richard was against this whole trip. He’s protective. Thinks I can’t take care of myself.” She sighed again. “Maybe he’s right. Can we go now? This place… it gives me the creeps.”

“
Not just yet.” He walked to Carlos, who lay on his stomach, his shattered skull a mess of blood and bone. He lifted the dead man’s shirt, exposing his back. He got the shirt he’d cleaned with and used it to pick up the branding iron.

The girl had turned her head away from the corpse.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a baffled tone.

Rock
didn’t answer. He thrust the branding iron onto Carlos’s back and quickly pulled it away. The girl shrieked. “Oh my
God!
Why did you do that?” She backed away from him, eyes wide, suddenly afraid again.

Rock
tossed the brand away. “Come over here,” he told her.

“No!” she said in disgust and fear.

“I need you to take a look.”

“You
need
me to do that? Why? So I’ll know what I would have looked like?”

“No, to see if it means anything to you.”

“Mean anything? Are you out of your mind?”

Rock
suddenly strode to her. She stepped nervously backward but he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her toward the corpse until they stood beside it. She squeezed her eyes shut like a child who refused to see something unpleasant.

“For God’s sake, open your eyes.”

“No!”

“Just one look.”

“No!”

“We’re not leaving until you do.”

After a moment, she opened her eyes and after shooting him an angry look, turned to view the still smoking brand and its strange design.

“
Ugh! All right, I looked.” She turned and walked a short distance off. Rock followed her. “What in the world is
that
supposed to be?” she asked.

“What did
it look like to you?”

“Like a heart with
a slash through it.”

“
That’s what I saw too.”

“What could it mean?”

“Nothing maybe. Sometimes cattle brands work the owner’s initials into the design. Sometimes they pun on the name, like ‘Hart’ for instance. Sometimes they’re about the name of the ranch. Main thing is for it to be different from the rest. Maybe that’s all this is. Or maybe it
does
mean something.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like a ‘no smoking’ sign. Except this stands for, I dunno, ‘no heart.’ Something like that. And it doesn’t ring any bells for you?”

“Nothing. Why should it?”

“This branding business is weird. Maybe they weren’t just after
any
pretty woman.”

“You mean, they were after me?”

“Possibly.”

“All right but why
brand
me? Do you think one of them has a ranch?”

“I doubt it. Man busy with a ranch doesn’t run into town for a little kidnapping. This might not be a
cattle
brand.”

“What else could it… oh
!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh my God.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off a cold wind. “At first I thought they
were
after me, right up to the minute they were about to burn me.”

“You mean kidnapped
for money?”

“Yes.
”

“That happens down here but they don’t pick people at random.
Do you have money?”

“All my money is in a trust fund, but yes, my family’s wealthy. Very.”

“Doesn’t make sense to kidnap someone
and
brand her. That’s crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense. Maybe it never will. Maybe it will always be a mystery. I hope so. I’ll have nightmares about this for a long time, but I hope I never have to think about it again.
Now
can we go?”

Rock picked up the
big man’s gun and searched the car for ammunition clips. He found two. He pocketed them and wedged the gun in his belt. “My bike’s over that little rise.”

The rise
was an easy climb for him but he thought it might be steep for her. Halfway up, he turned and offered her a hand, which she took gratefully. Once on top he simply lifted her in his arms and carried her down.

“Thank you,
sir.” she said as he set her on her feet.