Slowing his pace as he neared the bar Mac roared in anger at his own actions. Punching the rusted metal of his Chevy until his knuckles were bleeding and the beater had yet another dent.
He didn't panic. He didn't get scared. He didn't run away from women. He didn't help people. He hurt them. Killed them. What the fuck was wrong with him?
It wasn't like he cared about the bitch. He just didn't want her dying on him before he got the chance to fuck her. Didn't want her to take the satisfaction away from him by killing herself. That was for him to do. As he justified his good deed with fucked up logic he began to feel better. There was no justifying running away like a chicken shit. Except not wanting to get caught saving a life. He had every intention of marching right back up there and fucking her to death when Walter exited the bar, locking up for the night.
Walter turned and observed his son. He was wide eyed and out of breath, a knife clutched in his hand. Only a little blood on it. What had the stupid fuck done now?
"Whatch you doin' out here Mac?" Walter questioned as he stepped toward him. "Better not a hurt that girl, you hear?"
He Looked over to the deflated rubber doughnuts and smiled. Krystal had balls, Walter would give her that. Slashing Mac's tires was a bold move on her part. He'd be proud to call that little she-devil his daughter if the results came back positive. Maybe even if they didn't.
Mac laughed sarcastically. Little did his father know he'd just saved the stupid bitch's life. Not that he was about to admit it. He had a reputation to protect.
"She's breathin'." he replied with an evil smirk as he wiped the knife clean on his overalls and placed it in the pocket opposite the one containing her panties.
Walter grabbed a hold of Mac's suit and slammed him against the side of his useless truck. "If you hurt her you're gonna get it boy."
Mac reverted back into a little boy as memories of his father's wrath flashed through his mind's eye. He may be a ruthless killer but his father was the one who taught him how to inflict pain on the human body. Taught him through merciless lessons growing up.
At times Mac may go against Walter behind his back. Ssometimes like tonight right in front of his face thanks to his lack of self control. But when it came down to it and the sadistic old bastard was right in front of him he had no choice but to submit. He knew exactly what his father was capable of and had the scars to prove it.
"Didn' touch er'." Mac lied quietly, avoiding Walter's gaze.
"Bullshit!" Walter yelled, grabbing Mac's face in his hand and squeezing painfully as he forced his son to look at him.
"What do you call that there inside earlier?" he asked, throwing Mac's head to the side. "The only reason I'm not punishing you for your indiscretions is because she did a fine job of it herself, publicly shaming you no less."
Walter's eyes gleamed with vindictiveness as he chose his next words purposely to wound his son. "I like this girl. She seems useful, worth the time of day. Maybe I will hire her to replace you and wash my hands of you completely."
Walter was dead serious. He'd been thinking about it ever since Mac had found the equipment in her house. If she could be trusted and was reliable he'd put the bullet in Mac's head himself. Or let her do it, seemed like she might enjoy it.
He relished the look of true fear he had not seen in his son's eyes since he was a small boy. "Until I make a decision I want you back in the cave working, the Vegas buyer wants his shipment early this month so you need to get on it. I'll drop you off since your piece of shit is out of commission."
Mac gave no complaint as he followed Walter to his truck. He knew his father might actually kill him this time. In that moment he hated this girl more than he had ever hated anyone. He wished he'd just let her die tonight instead of being selfish. She could very well be the death of him, literally. He had to get rid of the girl and make it look like an accident. Fast.
When she woke up in the morning her head was pounding more than your average hangover. Her throat hurt like a motherfucker. The clock shown two in the afternoon. She was behind schedule. 'Great.'
Slowly Kristy sat up in bed and surveyed the room, hoping to god it would stop spinning soon. Next to her she found a belt, well what had been a belt. Now it was just scrap leather. The window screen closest to her was busted wide open like an animal had come charging through it.
'What the fuck did I do last night?' She remembered coming home and she remembered exactly what she'd used said ruined belt for. But she couldn't remember how it got in its current condition, as well as the screen. She glared begrudgingly at the sunlight and gnats streaming in through the open window and summoned the strength to close it before any more wildlife got inside.
Navigating through squinted eyes she made her way to the bathroom, not bothering with the light. As she braced her upper body on the sink she lifted her head to look in the mirror. A thick belt sized black, blue, and purple line stood out against her tan skin.
'Way over did it.' she thought, wincing slightly when swallowing.
As she turned her head to the right she found a shallow vertical cut running the length of her neck. 'Fuck. The belt. The cut. The window.' Someone had seriously saved her ass last night. Someone who'd been watching her get off. She had a pretty good idea who.
After heaving the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl beside her and showering she felt much better. She dressed and packed her hiking gear before backing up the suv to the kitchen door. She had to find a spot today. Keeping the supplies at the house was no longer an option even temporarily with horny hicks lurking about.
With everything ready to go she took a detour to the side of the cottage her violated bedroom window resided on. Boot prints in the dirt underneath the sill accompanied by a dried white substance on the brick wall confirmed her suspicions.
Kristy wondered why the screen was the only thing he'd violated. Not that she wasn't thankful, he just didn't seem like the type to only look. A theory backed up by his grabby actions in the bar last night. She had embarrassed him in front of all his buddies plus everyone else in the bar. Why bother saving her life?
She gave up trying to find answers as to why the bastard suddenly decided to turn into such a 'hero' and focused on the map sprawled out on the car hood in front of her. Heading further north along the highway she'd come into town on would be her best bet. It looked the least road traveled and the area was farther away from tourist traps.
As she drove past La Mesa she couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic red truck being hooked up to a tow truck. But the thoughts that were brought back by the old Chevy were not welcomed. She was glad she couldn't remember his name. If she'd moaned it out while he'd been watching she wouldn't be able to live with herself. It was one thing to shamefully lust after the tweaker in secret but it was another to have him know. It would put him in a position of power even more so than he already was from saving her life.
Absentmindedly she stroked the scab forming where his knife had sliced her and a shiver snaked up her spine despite the heat. Come to think of it now, she'd had a faint taste similar to the smell his breath carried in her mouth when she'd woken up. 'Did the bastard resuscitate me too!? I bet he slipped some tongue in while he was at it.'
Ten miles out she decided it was about time to veer off the road and start heading into the canyons. About half a mile in she spotted the black looming entrance to a cave. Perfect for driving right up and unloading the supplies yet out of the way and off the beaten path. So far the outside conditions were a go but there was no telling what lay inside.
After parking the suv outside she gathered her pack along with a six shooter from under the driver seat, you could never be too careful. She was more than capable of wielding the hunting knife stuffed in the pack but having some extra options was always nice.
Once inside the entrance of the cave she was happy to note the lack of running water so far, a definite deal breaker when it came to finding a place. The last thing she needed was to have her stuff washed out by an unexpected monsoon. As the tunnel expanded and forked off in different directions she chose the one to her left, memorizing each turn was crucial when it came to navigating the caves, one could end up lost for hours. Farther into her new corridor she came across working lights strung from the side of the cave wall.
'It's perfect but occupied, of course.' Quickly turning off her flashlight she grabbed the gun and continued on, following the trail of light bulbs. The familiar smell of ammonia got stronger as she kept going. After a slight left the tunnel opened up into a chamber.
A fucking meth lab. "A rinkey dink one at that." she scoffed, kicking an empty whiskey bottle aside.
Taking rag from her pack she covered her face and continued forward to inspect the setup. If this was the operation she was up against it would be no problem putting them out of business.
"Fucking coffee filters and match tips for Christ sake?" she murmured to herself, throwing a stack of the white filters aside.
She also observed empty beer bottles and joint roaches littering the floor and worktables. "Now that's just unprofessional." A stained mattress a few feet away with too many years of abuse made her cringe, whoever cooked there must be a walking toxin by now. She wouldn't be surprised if they didn't even wear proper protection. Spying a few finished bricks of their product she went over to judge. She couldn't tell without sampling of course, but it looked low grade.
"Amateurs." she sighed, planting her hands on her hips.
Just as she was about to start trashing the place a blow to her already throbbing head made her world go dark.
Mac couldn't believe his luck, for once shit was going his way. The very bitch Walter had threatened to replace him with was now unconscious at his feet. Completely at his mercy. After dragging her limp body over to the mattress he used a length of telephone cord laying around to bind her hands and hoist them above her head. Tying the rest of it in an intricate knot through a metal ring he'd installed in the cave's wall for just this purpose.
It was dark last night and he was preoccupied with getting the stupid bitch breathing again so Mac took the time to run his eyes and then fingers over all the indents and ridges that marred her skin. A burn here, a slice there, even a few jagged ones he couldn't figure out. Just as he started sliding his fingers underneath her shirt to expose her toned, torn, stomach she started to come to.
This time when her lashes began to flutter he stomped down the nervous fear that rose in his gut. He needed to break whatever hold this whore had on him. Cut out whatever made him panic whenever her eyes started to open and her body was under him. He couldn't allow himself to be afraid of anything, save for Walter.
Mac hauled his arm back and backhanded her across her mangled face. A serge of dominating adrenaline shot through him and he landed another blow before getting up to snort another couple lines off his workbench. When he turned back her eyes were open and glaring daggers at him.