Never Cry Mercy (12 page)

And if he was the kind of man I'd pegged him for, he'd notice things. Like an unusual vehicle parked on the street a few houses down from his. And with that thought, I decided it was time to move on.

I drove to the end of the street, hung a right and parked at the edge of the business district. As I cut the engine, the phone buzzed again. This time I answered.

"You got some damn nerve," Reese said.

"I know. I'm sorry," I said.

"Damn right you are," she said. "But not as sorry as you're going to be."

"I had to take care of something." The breeze picked back up, cooling the sheen of sweat on my forehead.

"What could you possibly have to take care of here?"

"Remember what I asked you last night?"

She paused. Her breathing rattled over the line.

"About that person, or name, or whatever?" I said.

"Jack, you need to leave that alone, OK? Whatever you're doing, stop. Come back here and I'll fill you in."

"OK, sounds good."

"I'm serious, Jack. Come back now."

"You got it."

"Dammit, Jack."

I hung up. She knew I wasn't coming back yet. And I wouldn't until I had an answer for all my troubles thus far.

I got out and took a walk down the road. Passed a few folks along the way. They studied me with curious eyes. One nodded. Another smiled. I responded in kind. Someone yelled from the other side of the road. I glanced over and saw two women arguing. I tried to figure out what their disagreement was about, but the low rumble of a diesel engine overtook their voices. I swung my head toward the source. Toward the truck. Linus stared down at me from the driver's seat. He smiled a bit too much for a guy I'd recently beaten the piss out of.

Then I felt why.

Someone drove a foot or shoulder or maybe a baseball bat into my lower back, sending me to my knees. A thud at the base of my skull drove me the rest of the way to the ground.

Chapter 27

Crystal River, Florida, 1988

"Now you and me are gonna have some fun." His hot, foul breath coated Jack's neck, making its way around his face. The same cheese puff and whiskey smell nearly gagged him. The man's grip relaxed. "Scream and I'll kill you."

Jack squirmed out of the hold, lunged forward, and spun around with his hands ready. His gaze honed in on the pistol aimed at his head.

"Scream, and I'll kill you," the guy repeated slowly. A smile broadened on his face. His top and bottom teeth were crooked and stained yellow. One of them was so black it must've been dead.

Stay calm. Stay alert. Stay in tune with your body and surroundings.

The words continued to echo in his father's voice, Sean's voice, Molly's voice. They competed with each other until they melted into one unified voice, shouting into Jack's consciousness. Jack had only used his father's lessons in practice and occasionally in the schoolyard when someone got out of line with him or someone who couldn't defend themselves. When he'd asked his father what he had been teaching him, his dad told him it was the only self-defense he'd ever need. That was good enough. He figured everything else was for show. The most important thing was to neutralize your opponent. And Jack did that well, even though he'd never faced a real-life opponent of this size.

"How you feeling right now?" the guy asked, smiling while he undid his belt with one hand.

Jack said nothing.

"Wondering what I'm gonna do to you, huh?" He licked his lips. Jack wasn't sure if the man wanted to torture him or rape him. Either way, the man wouldn't get what he wanted without a fight. "Well, don't worry too much. Ain't nothing I've never done before. I should have it down to a science by now."

In those moments while the man stood there, planning his next move, Jack itemized the potential weapons in his room. There were trophies from football, baseball, and soccer perched on shelves out of his reach. Three baseball bats, one metal, one wood and one aluminum, sat in his closet. Between his mattress and box spring was his knife, a piece his father gave him. Said it had belonged to an Air Force pilot who'd been a POW.

None were within reach.

The guy stood in the way.

"Let's get started."

Chapter 28

My face pressed hard against the concrete sidewalk. It tore at my cheek. Dust filled my nostrils. Grit scratched my eyes. The guy smelled like he'd inhaled a dozen chili dogs a few minutes earlier.

He outweighed me by fifty pounds or more, and was experienced in jiu-jitsu or wrestling or something similar. He countered every move I made. I couldn't get to my hands or knees. The moment I planted my palm on the ground, my arm was knocked out from under me, sending me face first into the concrete again. Warm blood trickled down the side of my face. Pain radiated from the right side of my forehead. I felt another trickle pouring over my lips from my nose. The breeze stung the cuts and scratches.

I feigned defeat, letting my body go limp. My assailant lifted his weight off me as he went to pull my arms back.

Wrong move.

I pushed up with all the force I could muster and whipped my head back, then slung my right elbow around. Both collided with the guy. I'm not sure where I caught him, but it was enough to earn a couple grunts, and to force some of his weight off me. I pulled out from under him. Made it to my knees. Almost got to my feet. I clung to a store window in an attempt to pull myself up.

Car doors grated opened and slammed shut. Boots hit the ground. The sounds echoed between the row of buildings. Three men rushed toward me from both sides. I prepared for the onslaught. The first blow came from behind, catching me on the side just under the ribs. Another caught me on the jaw. A weathered leather cowboy boot connected with my gut. I had enough time to tighten my stomach, minimizing the damage. The next one I wasn't so lucky. It smacked dead center in the solar plexus. I coughed out any remaining air in my lungs and collapsed on my left side.

The assault continued for another minute, each man taking a turn. I never much enjoyed getting my ass kicked. Sure as hell wasn't going to start liking it today.

"He's had enough."

I couldn't see who said it, but my guess was Darrow.

"Back off boys," someone else said.

The beating stopped. The men formed a half circle around me, cutting off any escape unless I suddenly developed the ability to scale a brick wall in a matter of seconds.

I rolled onto my back. My arms and legs and stomach ached. Did I have a broken rib or two? Too soon to tell. My face felt as though a battering ram had smashed into it. Same for my chest. They yanked me off the ground, dragged me down the sidewalk. I glanced over and caught a glimpse of myself in the store window. A large gash spread across my forehead. One eye was swollen. Blood dripped off my face and stained my shirt. I looked like I was dressed for a zombie-themed costume party.

Practically felt like I was the real thing.

We stopped in front of the pickup truck. They twisted my arms behind my back and secured my wrists together with thick zip ties. The passenger doors opened and I was thrown onto the rear bench seat. Someone leaned on my legs as another man zip tied my ankles together. My mouth hurt too badly to open, much less think of a comment to make. Blood from my face spread and pooled on the seat.

Linus threw his arm over the front seat, twisted, and peered down at me.

"Mr. Badass himself," he said. "Not so tough now, huh?"

I said nothing.

"Wanna tell me what you were doing hanging out in front of my house watching my wife and boys?"

"That was your wife?" I mumbled, apparently cohesively.

"Hell yeah," he said.

"Is she your sister, too?"

Linus laughed, but only for a second. He rose up, swung, connected his left fist with my mouth. Blood coated the inside of my cheeks, my teeth, and tongue. I managed to part my lips and let it trickle out, adding to the collection on the seat.

The truck lurched into first gear and pulled away. I wasn't sure where they were taking me, but I had a good idea who'd be there. We hadn't gone far when the truck stopped abruptly. The tires chirped on the asphalt. The smell of rubber filled the cab. Linus opened his door, stepped out, then pulled mine open. I expected to be dragged out. Instead I got a fist to my stomach. Everything turned black as they pulled and cinched a bag over my head. What was next? Torture? I wouldn't put it past Darrow. Whatever criminal endeavor he was involved in, he surely took on the role of brutal overlord as opposed to savvy businessman.

A few seconds later, we were on the move again. I lost track of how many rights and lefts we took. I tried to keep up with the seconds and minutes as the drive lingered on, but I struggled to remain conscious. The pain in my head intensified. I felt more nauseous with each turn. A concussion had taken hold.

We stopped again. The transmission groaned as Linus put it in park, leaving the engine on to idle for a couple minutes. Some country song played on the radio. It was never my genre. Sounded older, though. Linus alternated between humming and whistling the tune in the wrong key. I thought about telling him to shut up, but decided I ought to pick and choose my battles a little more carefully the rest of the day. Plus, I wasn't sure I could talk.

The engine choked and sputtered and shut off. The low rumble slowly faded away in my ears. When it dissipated, all that was left was a vacuum of air, like we were in the middle of a void.

Linus's door opened. Boots hit the ground, crunched on rocks. My door swung opened. Someone racked the slide of a rifle.

"You hear that?" Linus said.

"Yeah," I uttered through the burlap sack.

"One wrong move, do one thing different than I say, and that bullet is going through your damn head. Got it?"

I sucked in a warm breath of stale air. Pain pulsed throughout my body. "Yeah, I got it. One question, though."

Linus laughed. "I thought you said you got it, man."

"I do. I just have a question."

"What?" He spat. It thudded against the ground.

"Got some whiskey?"

He laughed again. "Yeah, man, I got some whiskey inside."

"Inside where?"

He fumbled with the cord around the sack, then lifted it off my head. Sunlight knifed through my eyes and felt as though it cut into my brain. I recoiled against the sensation, drawing yet another laugh from the skinny man. Once I had adjusted, I stared outside at a whole lot of nothing. An expansive field stretched as far as I could see.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"Don't you worry about that," he said. "Just so long as you understand I'm not the only one with eyes on you at this moment. You might be able to get away with taking me down, but you won't make it far."

He backed up a few steps.

"Go on, man," he said. "Get out."

I felt like a damn worm, wriggling and turning, angling myself so I'd fall on my shoulder and not my head. All the effort I put into it didn't matter. As soon as I was close enough for gravity to take over, that son of a bitch grabbed hold of me and accelerated the process. I crashed on top of my head, and rolled through as clumsily as possible.

Linus laughed for a few seconds before kicking me over. He cut the ankle tie, then he reached down, grabbed my wrists and started dragging forward. For such a skinny guy, he was a helluva lot stronger than he looked. I scrambled to make my legs work. As soon as I managed to upright myself, Linus let go and dropped back, keeping a good six feet between us.

"You so much as look back at me again and I'm gonna give you another hole," he said.

I didn't believe him. If they were going to kill me, they'd have done so already. Someone wanted me here, and that someone wasn't going to allow me to die until after they met me. Still, there was no point in taking any more of a beating.

The only structure in sight was about a half-mile down the dirt path. The rest of the landscape was barren, save for some fencing and cattle off in the distance. Warm wind swept in from the west, carrying with it a fine layer of dirt and the smell of manure. I adjusted to both at around the halfway mark of our trek. The black curtains along the edge of my vision lifted as we walked. Good thing, too. I figured that meant the swelling in my brain was diminishing. Though my limbs and chest ached, nothing seemed to be broken. If anything, a rib or two, but that wouldn't stop me if I got the chance to take someone down.

We reached the unassuming weathered cabin. A twelve-by-eight covered porch offered some shade from the glaring sun. The structure trapped the wind. It circled my body, cooling my aching muscles.

"Wait here." Linus entered the house and shut the door behind him.

I glanced around. There was nowhere to hide. They'd have a clear view of me if I ran. And if Linus was a decent shot, I'd be dead. So I waited there, leaning against a post, letting the breeze work its magic.

The door opened. The voice that followed belonged to someone other than Linus. It was heavy, southern, mature.

"Let's get one thing straight here," he said. "You're probably not going to survive this, Mr. Noble."

Chapter 29

How the hell did they know my name? Every inch of my body tensed at the possible implications. They had Reese. There was no doubt about it. They had her too, and had managed to get my name out of her. How badly had they tortured her for it? No matter how pissed she was about this morning, she wouldn't offer it up easily.

"I often wondered if I'd see you again," the man said.

I hadn't looked back at him, instead keeping my focus on the truck, shimmering in the heat a half-mile away.
See me again?
There was something about the guy. Maybe I'd known him in the past. "Aren't you the least bit curious?" he said. "Go on, Mr. Noble. Turn around."

I steeled myself for the worst and forced my body off the post and turned. Would he be holding a gun to Reese's head? Perhaps only a gun aimed at me? The latter I could handle. The former might send me over the edge.

I stared Darrow in the eye, offered no reaction to his presence.