Razor The Wild Ones - Jessie Cooke Page 0,10

the dresser, and the smell was jasmine, an aroma that had always reminded her of her mother, whom she’d lost to cancer when she was just a little girl.

To her right was a nightstand, and beyond that was a small window, framed in white curtains with lace eyelets that adorned the ruffled valance. There were plain white blinds underneath, and those were closed. The overhead light that hung from the ceiling fan was off, but the room wasn’t pitch dark, so it still had to be daylight, she thought…but daylight of which day? She looked toward the door of the room. It was closed and underneath the brass doorknob was a lock that looked like it would need an old skeleton key to unlock it. The floors were wood, not highly polished, but clean. Everything in the room seemed to be sparkling clean, but other than the aroma of jasmine, it was all unfamiliar. She’d never been there before, and she had to wonder what she was doing there now.

Suddenly the events of the day came back in a rush. Bobby leaving, her following, Bobby dying. She struggled to catch her breath. Bobby was dead. She heard what they’d said. She’d just left him there, to die. If she hadn’t though, she’d be dead too…right? She gasped for another breath, trying to control her conflicting emotions. She remembered taking the money, and the gun, and running. The money! Her chest felt like it was being crushed and she tried to sit up straight. She cried out in pain as soon as she moved, and that was when she realized her left arm was in a sling and there was something wrapped tightly around her ribs.

What the hell? Her head pounded harder as she tried to remember what had happened to her. She’d been hitchhiking…Ron! The last thing she remembered was having lunch with Ron in Alabama. Motherfucker! He tricked me! He was one of them. Shit! Using her good arm, she pushed herself upright, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain. There was a glass of water on the nightstand. She started to reach for it to wet her mouth because it felt like sandpaper, but then thought better of it. What if he’s put something in it? Jesus, I was stupid for trusting him.

She left the water alone, and let her bare feet hit the wooden floor before slowly standing up. She felt dizzy as soon as she did, almost falling back down onto the bed, but steadying herself at the last second. She looked down at the large white t-shirt she was wearing. It hung on her like a tent and fell to just below her knees. She could feel that she still had her panties on, but she was missing her bra. Ron must have undressed her, and now she had to wonder, did he sexually assault her when she was out of it as well?

She took a step toward the door and when she did, a shot of pain ran up from her left ankle, all the way into her lower back. That time she bit her lip so hard to keep from screaming that she tasted blood. Shaking all over, and fighting back tears, she took another step, and then another, putting most of her weight on the right ankle. Her left arm was throbbing and the pain from her simple movements was almost paralyzing. She couldn’t see her face, but it felt as sore as the rest of her. That son of a bitch had beaten her, and for some reason she couldn’t remember it. Maybe he drugged her first…it was a good thing for him because if she’d been alert, she would have fought to the death, and if she’d had the gun she’d brought with her, she would have put a bullet in him as well. She was more pissed off that he’d pretended to be a nice guy than she was at finding out exactly what he was capable of. She hoped she got at least one more chance to see him, if only to prove that he wasn’t man enough to fight her face to face.

She was just a few steps from the door when she heard the creak of the floorboards just outside the door. Another quick look around the room told her there was nothing she could use as a weapon…but she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight