It made sense when she thought about it. Smack in the middle of nowhere. Water all around. Cut off from the nearest neighbor and miles from town.
“You’ve been making moonshine,” she said as AJ slowed his truck to a crawl.
“You better believe it.” He winked at her. “The old man’s equipment’s piecemeal, but it gets the job done. When I leave here, stuff I’m brewin’s coming with me. Might be a bit green, but people I know back home won’t care. Bonus,” he added, wiggling his brows at her. “Why should an old man with an itchy trigger finger be the only one making money?”
“Is he making money?” Melia didn’t really care. She just kept willing Johnny to show up.
AJ snorted. “Damn right, he is. Had a passel of it in a cupboard under the sugar sack. Folks in Deception Cove like to drink shine. And they pay good greenbacks to get it.” He nodded forward. “Looks like we’re not the first to arrive.”
Melia’s stomach jumped. Three very large men, all carrying assault rifles, strolled back and forth outside Pappy Laundy’s shack house. She didn’t see any vehicles, but lamps shone inside, and at least one shadow passed in front of the partly patched window.
“Satyr,” AJ informed her. He spit on the floor of the truck that time and offered no apology. “I hope you got a high tolerance for pain, doc. Way I heard tell, my boss’s boss came in carrying a big backpack of goodies.”
Not going to panic. But AJ’s low chuckle didn’t help her nerves in any way.
He parked with a jerk of brakes, got out, and came around to the passenger door. For a moment, the sleeve of his T-shirt pulled up, and she spotted a large, black birthmark on his arm. And above that was a long scab that could have come from a bullet graze. Pappy’s bullet?
“Tell Satyr she’s here,” he said to one of the men.
“Tell him yourself,” the guard returned. “We’re on watch and not supposed to let ourselves be distracted.”
AJ smiled at her. “You hear that, doc? I guess if you’re thinking about doing a striptease in the hopes of making a getaway, you can pretty much forget it. Not that I’d mind, but…” He used his head to motion at the shack. “Time’s a-wastin’. You got any balls tucked away in those jeans of yours, now’d be a real good time to strap ’em on.” Raising his gun, he turned her toward the shack and gave her a shove with the barrel. “Because lady, you’re about to walk through the front door of hell.”
…
Johnny didn’t go anywhere right away. He ran upstairs, found Gomer, then brought the dog with him as he climbed into his truck.
“Could be Satyr’ll take her back to Las Vegas.” Laidlaw rubbed the bump on his head in annoyance. “He lives there, right?”
“He has a casino there and a condo somewhere near the strip. He won’t take the time to get her there. If Mockerie’s involved—ninety-nine percent sure he is—he won’t want to waste any more time. They’ll both be here.”
Johnny’s mind continued to spin. He had to get inside Satyr’s head. Unfortunately, he also needed to get inside Mockerie’s. Two minds, one goal. Two different methods of approach.
“Fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “One agenda. Death. Two ways of reaching that goal, but the key is Melia’s death. They’ll need somewhere remote.”
“Chicken farmer’s house, maybe? Or that other place where the guy lives with all his kids?”
Johnny shook his head. “They’ll want obscure. The handyman’s son’s shack is in the back of beyond, but they wouldn’t know about it.”
“The campsite?”
“Too open.” Glancing at the dog in the back of the truck, Johnny considered. AJ would be familiar with the area by then. He’d been trespassing. He’d put a bullet in Pappy Laundy’s foot. He’d been shot at, and bitten by Pappy’s dog. He knew Pappy’s place was empty. And it was sure as hell remote.
He started the truck, drove down the long driveway, and swung the wheel hard to the left.
Laidlaw winced and adjusted his balance. “I take it something’s come to you.”
Lightning turned the moss-laden trees into ghosts. “Yeah, something,” Johnny muttered. “I only hope to Christ I’m right.”
…
AJ pushed her through the creaking door. It was hell all right, Melia thought, with both demon and master in attendance, seated at either end of Pappy Laundy’s wood table.
She recognized Satyr instantly from the description Johnny had given her. Slicked-back hair, scarred face, smarmy, ferret-like features. He wore black—shirt, pants, and shoes. Everything matched, even the patch that covered his right eye.
“Pretty, pretty,” he said and smiled at her. “Johnny has excellent taste.”
At first glance, the other man appeared far less slimy. His jeans were faded and almost worn through at the stress points. A black cotton jacket covered a plain white tee, and his tan boots were ground down at the heel. A hat with a broad brim concealed most of his face, but she saw his teeth when, like Satyr, he smiled at her. Good teeth, she reflected distantly, nice jaw. Who knew? He might have been a handsome man, if the aura that surrounded him hadn’t all but slapped her in the face.
Evil. It was the first thought that struck her. She swore the smell of it oozed from his pores.
Outside, the thunder crept closer. Melia kept her eyes on Mockerie. He was playing with a carved silver ring on what remained of his left middle finger.
Lightning flashed, filling the single room with an eerie white glow. There and gone in a heartbeat.
Melia’s own heart beat so hard, she was surprised it didn’t pound right through her chest. Would Johnny think of this? And if he did, would she be alive when he arrived?
Would he survive, or go rogue and die trying to kill Satyr and Mockerie?
Enough, she ordered herself, and focused on Satyr. For reasons she preferred not to analyze, however, her gaze kept drifting back to Mockerie.
He picked up a knife from the table, flicked it open and closed while Satyr chuckled softly.
“We have but one purpose here tonight, Melia. To watch you die. I’m going to let James do the honors, but I promise you, the pleasure at the end of it will be all mine.”
She drew controlled breaths. She had to stall, but how? What in God’s name would slow down the actions of a sadist?
“I thought men like you were target specific,” she managed as the silence and the low thunder that eventually underscored it stretched out. “A lot of people could have been killed when my clinic blew up.”
Satyr’s smile widened. “Do you think either of us care about that?”
“Oh, come now, Ben. I care.” Mockerie spoke for the first time. He had a rather pleasant voice, but the flicking knife had icy shafts of terror shooting up and down her spine. “Wasted death is a tragedy to me. No one should die who hasn’t screamed themselves senseless first. After all”—he flicked the knife open—“we enter the world screaming”—and closed as he looked at Melia. “Why not exit it in the same manner?”
Was she supposed to answer that? He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response.
“Is that how you hope to exit the world?” The words made it out, but with very little volume. Melia sucked up a portion of her terror. Was there any way to end this nightmare? Anything she could say to him that might slow the process down? She watched his face, saw his jaw working. In anticipation? “It’s not about death at all for you, is it?” she said. “It’s suffering that gives you pleasure.”
Mockerie’s smile returned. He pointed at Satyr. “Talk to him, Dr. Rose. I’m only the instrument of his revenge. An avid one, but an instrument all the same.”
The lamps they’d lit trembled with the next peal of thunder.
“Guard the door,” Satyr instructed AJ. “We don’t want any uninvited guests dropping by and spoiling our party.”
Satyr looked nervous. Melia watched him rub his palms together for the third time.