Natalie Acres (28 page)

Ansley sat on the corner of the desk. “Tell him what he’s done. Tell him he was in prison. Tell him Vicky said—”

“Just a minute, Leo,” Daddy Kane said.

“He just needs to know who he is dealing with here. You aren’t telling him anything.”

“You aren’t giving me a chance, Ansley. Either zip it or leave the room.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her mind churning with all sorts of possibilities. The day Vicky thought Trixie had been abducted, she’d pulled up the guy online and read copies of several transcripts revealing exactly what kind of monster Cash Whitehead had been prior to his prison sentence.

Raising the phone to his ear once more, Daddy Kane said, “Leo, continue. I have my other daughters here with me now and as you can imagine, they’re quite distraught.”

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the occasional vague vocal responses of “I understand” or “I see” but her father seemed more and more agitated as time wore on. Ansley braced for an outburst. Her father certainly had a few in him.

After about five minutes, he rose to his feet and stomped to the window. “You tell your men if they find her before she is harmed, I will donate a cash reward to each of their children’s college funds. You tell them she has a family waiting for her—a very wealthy family willing to pay for their loved one’s safe return.”

Brock and Rory drove frantically for the Tennessee state line. Brock didn’t know why he’d decided to head that way. He assumed after Mitch confirmed one of the camp vehicles was missing, Trixie must’ve left the camp without realizing she was being followed.

“I don’t know why we didn’t wait at the camp,” Rory said.

“I can’t sit and do nothing.” Brock gripped the steering wheel tighter. He’d sworn to protect her. He’d promised to never let her out of his sight again after the whole Pratchert deal and what had he done? He’d all but handed her over to Cash Whitehead—not once, but twice!

“Think, Rory,” Brock said. “Think like Pratchert or this guy. If you were fresh out of prison where would you take her?”

“Pratchert and Whitehead both came to Cow Camp. When Pratchert abducted Trixie, he took her to that rundown motel. Maybe Whitehead will do the same.”

“No,” Brock said. “If he goes anywhere, he’ll stay in an upscale place. He wants to impress her. Remember, he believes Mitch still has a lot of money.”

“That’s all fine and good, but he doesn’t have the money to compete with what he thinks Mitch has.”

Brock waved his finger high in the air. “But his brother does.” He yanked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed their home number. Kane picked up on the first ring. “Kane, I need to ask a favor. Pull some strings and find out about Cash’s brother. Find out where he lives and how we can get in touch with him.”

“I’ve already tried that,” Kane said. “Guy has some pull. We can’t even get an address on him.”

“What?”

“I don’t stutter, Sheldon,” Kane said. “We are working every angle we can from here. Where are you?”

“About two miles from the Tennessee line.”

“Keep me informed.”

The line went dead.

“He blames us?”

“Of course he does. It’s our blame to carry,” Brock said, his heart in his throat. God, he couldn’t stand it if something happened to Trixie. What he’d give to have her with him now. What he’d give to hold her in his arms.

Rory covered his face with his hands. “I can’t take this, man. I can’t bear to think about what he’s doing to her.”

“I know,” Brock muttered. “If he makes good on those promises, I’ll be the next one spending time in the joint. I won’t stand by and let him touch her without retaliating. I just can’t.”

* * * *

“Brock will kill you,” Trixie said, covering her breasts with her arms. She was crouched on the floorboard, undressed down to her waist.

Three people had stopped to use the rest area. They’d all pulled alongside Trixie’s vehicle and not one of them had peered inside their SUV. Not one person had bothered to notice the strange circumstances surrounding the only other automobile in the parking lot. The white Cow Camp utility truck was still running and its lights were on high beams.

“Brock will kill me?” He laughed. “Wasn’t it Mitch who disposed of Stephen?” He peered in his rearview mirror and cursed aloud. Apparently another car had entered the rest area. “We need to find a place with less traffic.”

“I guess you’re terrified of leaving the rest area. By now there are APBs out and everyone will be looking for this vehicle and the camp truck. You’re kind of at a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t moment in life. Aren’t you?”

Cash sneered. “Shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll slice my throat?” Trixie was tired of the games. She was tired of being crouched behind the seat awaiting what promised to be the most traumatized moment of her life, but if that moment were only seconds away, she wanted to hurry up and provoke it while there might be witnesses around to gawk, stare at what would promise to be a very public exploit, one they wouldn’t forget, and would perhaps report.

Cash turned around in his seat. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. “What do you see in three men? Hmm? Why would you want to fuck more than one man at the same time?”

“I…it’s…I…”

He snarled. Then, he dropped his head and in a childlike voice, he mocked her. “I…it’s…I…”

Trixie bowed her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He gave her hair a solid yank. “I wouldn’t understand because you don’t think I’ve been around my share of whores?”

“I’m not a whore. I love them all.”

“I’m not a whore,” he mimicked her. “I just like seeing how many cocks will fit in my pussy at one time.”

Trixie forced a smile and hoped it looked downright evil. Then she let out a wicked laugh.

“You think that’s funny?”

“Yes,” she replied, concentrating on the timing factor. Maybe the last two visitors who had stopped at the rest area would soon return to their vehicles.

“What’s so fucking funny about that?”

“At least my men have something they can use,” she said, taunting him. “You probably don’t have a dick worth inserting in a woman. Is that right, Mr. Whitehead? Is that why you raped those women? Did they make fun of you when you tried to penetrate them? Did they?”

“You fucking cunt!” he screamed, rearing back and striking her.

“That’s right, baby,” she crooned. “Hit me again. Hit me and make it hurt. But before you knock me out, show me that big, thick prick in your pants. Let me see what you have between your legs.”

A lust-filled expression washed across his face and his eyes softened then. “You want me to show it to you?”

“Yes,” she drawled, hoping the knife was the only weapon he had on his person. If he had something else—perhaps a gun—then she was definitely in trouble. “Show me, Cash,” she said, leaning over the seat and placing her hand on his. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“You are a dirty whore, aren’t you?”

“Hmmm,” she muttered, reaching behind her back and patting the floor for her shirt as she leaned over the front seat. “Please, Cash. Show me what you’ll let me suck.”

As if she’d said the magic words, Cash became obviously enchanted with the idea of stripping his slacks away from his hips. Trixie waited for the perfect time, hoping her idea of timing matched fate’s plan for her as well.

“I knew you’d be eager. I knew you’d grab this cock like a stick of chocolate and let me melt in your mouth for days and days.”

She wanted to vomit. Instead, she said, “Hmm, I bet you’ve dreamed of us together. I have you know.”

“You have?” he asked, his delirium evident. He gripped the waistband with both hands. “You wanna climb up here and give me an intimate kiss, baby mama?”

“Can I please?” she drawled, batting her eyelashes.

“Sure, whore, come on up here and blow me.”

“I’d love to,” she said, noticing a man leaving the building straight ahead. She massaged Cash’s shoulders and blew in his ear. “I can’t wait to suck that meaty little penis.”

And her slip-up, one negative connotation, was quite possibly the only thing that saved her life.

Cops swarmed the rest area between the Bristol, Virginia, and Tennessee state lines. Trixie shook as she clung to the huge blanket thrown over her shoulders when the police arrived on the scene.

Cash had beaten her severely after she’d made a reference to his small penis size and as luck would have it, an off-duty cop from another state had witnessed it all. He immediately dialed 9-1-1 and quickly intervened, stopping the brutal crime unfolding before his eyes.

“Mrs. Sheldon, your husband is on the way,” an officer said.

“Thank you,” she said, rummaging through her vehicle.

“Is there something I can find for you?”

“I’m looking for my phone,” she replied. “Have you seen it?”

“No, ma’am,” the officer said. “I’m sure it’s not with the perpetrator. He was frisked.”

Trixie turned then and glared at Cash Whitehead as a round of slurs were blatantly screamed in her direction. Addressing the officer again, she asked, “Did my husband say when he would be here?”

About that time, a Cow Camp truck came to a screeching halt. Brock and Rory barreled out of the cab and ran toward her.

Shrugging away the blanket, Trixie sprinted to them. “Brock! Rory!”

Tears fell down her cheeks as she clung to them as if they were her only lifelines. “I thought I was going to die.”

“I thought we were too late,” Brock admitted, shaking against her. “I was so scared, baby.”

“We were both terrified, Trixie,” Rory said.

Holding her at arm’s length, Brock said, “Let me see you.”

As soon as he took one look at her, a horrified expression came over him. He gripped her arms and moved her aside. “Rory, take her to the car.”

“Brock, no!” she screamed, trying to stop him as he marched across the parking lot.

An officer was leading Cash to a nearby cruiser when Brock attacked from the back, slamming his fist against the side of his head. “You like to hit women? Do you? How’s this feel, motherfucker?”

He struck Cash again and again. Rory grabbed Trixie and wouldn’t let her go. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“The hell he does!” Trixie screamed. “He’ll end up killing him!”

“No he won’t,” Rory said evenly. “And by the looks of it, no one here plans to stop him.”

Trixie slowly surveyed the faces of the men observing the whole episode. No one tried to intervene. None of the officers tried to stop Brock from attacking her perpetrator. None of them drew their weapons. No one pulled him off.

When Cash finally slumped at Brock’s feet, he kicked him in the side, and said, “Next time, I’ll kill you. I protect my family. I love my woman. And I’ll be damned if you’ll have her.”

Through bloody lips, Cash snarled. An evil laugh resounded as Brock stormed away from him. “You think I was with her for nearly six hours and didn’t fuck her, Sheldon? Look at her! Look! At! Her!”

Brock’s eyes met Trixie’s. A harrowing darkness swept across his face, and as if everything happened in slow motion then, Brock reached behind his back and drew a pistol.

“Brock!” she screamed.

Rory and Trixie both ran toward him then.

Officers drew their guns. Threats ricocheted around them.

“Drop your weapon!” an officer screamed, stepping in front of Cash’s crouched form.

Brock took another step and then another.

“Brock, please! Don’t do this! Please listen to me! He’s lying! Do you hear me? He is lying to you!” Trixie screamed aloud as she felt her life was about to end right before her very eyes. The man she loved would be gunned down in front of her and Rory. Her children would later live without his presence in their lives.

“Brock!” Rory yelled, ripping away the hands trying to hold him back. “He ain’t worth it, man. Don’t do this!”

Brock pointed the gun at Cash’s head. “Trixie!”

“Mr. Sheldon, drop your weapon!” an officer bellowed, closing in on him with his weapon propped against his forearm.

Cash sneered. “You think that cunt would tell you the truth? Hell no. I fucked her. I fucked her mouth, her ass, her pussy, and she liked it, man. She enjoyed every bit of it.”

“Trixie!” Brock yelled over his shoulder. “Is he telling the truth?”

“Brock, listen to me. He is lying to you.” She rushed him then, squeezing by two officers and ignoring their warnings to back away from the “victim” and his assailant.

“Brock, he’s taunting you, man,” Rory said, shrugging away a cop’s lame attempt to detain him. “Put that gun away.”

“Trixie, you swear to me?” Brock searched her eyes. “Tell me the truth, baby. Don’t lie to me. Ever.”

“I wouldn’t. Put the gun down. Think of our children,” she said, gripping his arm and trying to encourage him to lower the pistol. “You’re not this person. You’re not this man.”