Quen spread her legs, stepped between them and squatted down.
Fran, still on the floor, pushed herself up to her elbows and raised her head to watch.
Quen slipped the knife blade underneath the frayed denim high on Brenda’s left thigh. Then he looked over his shoulder at Toby. “Can I cut her?”
“You want to?”
“Maybe a little.”
“No skin off my nose.”
Brenda pushed herself off the floor and braced herself up with her elbows, like Fran only slim and beautiful. Looking Quen in the eyes, she hissed, “You just dare cut me, you shitty pervert, and I’ll shove that knife up your ass.”
Laughing, he started to work the knife back and forth, sawing his way up her thigh.
Toby watched the denim split open, a V widening its way up the top of her leg.
Fran watched, too. She had a strange look on her face. It looked almost like a smile.
Brenda also watched the knife’s progress. She didn’t flinch or cry out, so apparently Quen was avoiding her skin.
She scared him off.
She wasn’t wearing a belt. When Quen sliced through her waistband, the side of her cut-offs slid from her hip and fell to the floor. With a quick flick of the blade, Quen severed the side of her bikini pants.
Then he began to cut a slit up the right side of her shorts.
He sawed through the waistband. The right side fell away.
When he slashed the side of her bikini pants, she jumped and yelped. Blood started to spill from a gash near her hip. “Woops,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
With his left hand, he grabbed the front of her waistband and pulled downward. The shorts, loose at both sides, lifted away from her like a large denim flap hinged by the narrow strip of fabric at her crotch. He jerked hard. The strip broke and he flung the panel away. Then he tugged off her severed bikini pants. She grunted as the seat was jerked out from under her rump.
On his knees between her legs, Quen gazed down at her wispy golden curls and cleft.
Toby stared, too. And moaned softly with the ache of wanting her.
Quen turned his head and smiled at him. “What do you want me to do now, boss?”
“What do you want to do?”
“You kidding?”
“Wanta stick it to her?”
“You kidding? But…it’s not my turn. You’d better go first. You wanta go first, don’t you? I mean, if you don’t, it’s fine with me, but…”
“No, you can go ahead.”
“Really?”
“Sure. But first you have to give her the knife.”
“What?”
“You cut her. See that blood?”
“Yeah, but…”
“She told you what she’d do if you cut her.”
“But she’s our prisoner!” He let out an odd laugh. “Doesn’t matter what she says.”
“Does to me. Brenda and me, we’re working out a deal. We’re cooperating. So give her the knife.” Toby aimed the pistol at his face.
“You serious?”
“I feel serious.”
“She said she’d stick it up my ass!”
“Well.” Toby grinned. “Should’ve thought of that before you cut her.”
“Shit.”
“It’s the knife from her or the bullet from me. Take your pick.”
He looked at Brenda. She was still braced up on her elbows. “You won’t really do that to me, will you?”
She just stared at him.
“I mean…we’re friends. I had to do this stuff, you know?”
“I know,” Brenda said.
“You gonna stick it up my ass?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. None of this is your fault. Jack made you do it.”
“Right,” Quen said. “I was forced.” Though he looked worried, he handed the knife to her.
She sat up fast—very fast—grabbed Quen’s erection like a handle to stop him as he tried to lurch away, and slashed the blade across his throat.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Quen squealed.
Blood erupted from his ripped throat, spraying Brenda.
Fran screamed.
Toby, delighted, called out, “Thata way to go, Brenda baby!”
Releasing her hold on Quen, Brenda slumped back down on the floor. Blood still flew at her, falling like thick red rain on her face and chest and belly.
Quen clapped a hand against his slit throat and lurched to his feet. His other arm reaching out, he staggered toward Toby. “Help,” he gasped. “Ambulance.”
Toby grinned and nodded. “Good idea. I’ll get right on it.”
“Please!”
As Quen lurched closer, Toby pranced backward.
“For God’s sake help him!” Fran yelled.
She was on her feet.
Toby aimed the pistol at her face.
She cried out, “Yeee!”
“Get down!”
“Don’t! Don’t! Please!”
Quen grabbed the front of Toby’s shirt and looked at him with pleading eyes.
Toby kicked a leg out from under him. Quen went down, still clutching Toby’s shirt, ripping some buttons loose, then letting go but leaving