How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,17

outcome and their conscience prodding them to do something, to put their ass on the line to save some girl they don’t know. If they believe me, they just get to look at a pretty girl naked. So they’re going to believe me, because most people take the easy path every chance they get, and then while you’re screaming and crying and begging me not to, I’m going to take off your clothes and show you off to some pervert who works the counter at this farm town adult store. That’s what happens if you scream.”

Her jaw hangs open and she stares at me as if I’m the devil incarnate.

Unfazed, I hold her gaze and tell her, “So, these are your options, snowflake. The choice is ultimately yours.”

Autumn swallows, her pretty blue eyes flickering with a myriad of emotions before she looks away from me.

She must not be an exhibitionist, because when I open the car door this time, she doesn’t make a sound.

Chapter Six

Autumn

He’s crazy.

A madman. A psycho. A sexual maniac.

My mind is screaming at me that I need to get away from him, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with terror, imagining the scenario he just painted a picture of. Imagining him actually doing it.

I have no reason to think he wouldn’t.

My stomach rocks. I wish I could clutch it and sink back against the seat, but I can’t move much with my wrists both shackled to the door handle.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I don’t know how long he’s in the store, but it feels like forever.

Before he made that threat, I wouldn’t have hesitated to scream bloody murder when a dinged-up blue Cadillac pulled into the space beside us. A tall, thin man gets out and glances in my direction. As soon as he does, he does a double-take and offers a weak smile that gives me the creeps.

A scream catches in my throat. I want to cry out for help, I want to appeal to him and tell him a straight-up psychotic man has kidnapped me and I need help… but I’m too afraid Jasper wasn’t bluffing. I’m too afraid the stranger wouldn’t automatically believe me. My story is unusual, so he might be torn. He might go inside and ask if anyone else saw the girl in the car outside. Jasper will speak up, he’ll tell his twisted story about our sexual debauchery. The strangers may be skeptical, but he’ll invite them to come outside and he’ll show them.

And he’ll do it. I may not know him well, but I know down to my bones if I defy him even after he so vividly told me what would happen if I did, he’ll execute the punishment. He’ll hold me down while I kick and scream, he’ll tear off my clothes and show every inch of my naked body to the curious onlookers.

And he’ll do it with such an astounding lack of shame or remorse, they’ll be forced to believe him. Surely no one with a soul could violate somebody that way—with an audience—without showing some shred of remorse.

I wouldn’t literally rather die than be so publicly violated, but almost.

So I let the moment pass, and I deal with the spell of sadness that envelops me when the stranger stops looking and walks into the store.

There’s a sense of finality to that choice that doesn’t feel good. It was probably the best chance I had at getting help, the best chance I’ll ever have, but I was too intimidated by Jasper’s threat to take the risk. I’m no misanthrope, but I don’t have that much faith in the inherent goodness of humans.

Jasper is probably right. The stranger owes me nothing. He’d probably just enjoy the show and then go home, and even if there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that something about it was off, something just didn’t feel right… his own guilt would make him feel conflicted. If he believed me, then he did something wrong by letting my captor strip me and show off my body to him.

Most people don’t want to believe they’ve done something wrong.

I’m fucked either way.

Hopelessness starts to settle over me by the time Jasper comes out of the store. It doesn’t help at all when I see the huge plastic bag full of stuff he bought.

He’s going to rape me, and then when he’s done, he’ll probably kill me. Sometime in the next week or so, they’ll find my body in the