Iron Goddess by Dharma Kelleher

Author:Dharma Kelleher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2016-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Oscar patted them down and pulled the bottle of OxyContin from Shea’s pocket. He shook it and examined the label. “Well, well, Oxy. Nice!”

Victor took the bottle from him. “I’ll just hold on to this for you.” He pocketed the bottle while Oscar zip-tied their hands behind their backs.

“Get in.” He shoved them into the back of the Pathfinder, with Shea on the driver’s side. Sirens wailed in the distance while they crossed back over the median and drove away, going north into the mountains toward Ironwood.

“What’re you gonna do with us?” asked Wendy in a trembling voice.

Oscar laughed. Victor remained silent.

“Just keep quiet,” Shea said. She wanted to comfort her sister, to tell her it would be all right. But she wasn’t sure it would be.

“Are they gonna kill us?”

“Shhh.”

Wendy sobbed quietly.

The ride gave Shea’s head time to clear. It ached to the point of distraction, but the dizziness was fading. She slowed her breathing, focusing on how to escape. If she slipped her bound wrists under and past her legs, she could use the zip tie as a garrote to strangle Oscar. But considering he was driving, that could lead to another accident. A crash in the mountains could prove fatal, since she and Wendy weren’t buckled in. She sat back hoping a new opportunity would present itself before it was too late.

Oscar turned onto a now-familiar side road. They were headed back to the warehouse—a great place to make bodies disappear. The crunching of tires on gravel set her further on edge. The chances of them surviving were growing thinner by the minute. But still, Shea paid closer attention to the turns, clinging to hope.

When the SUV stopped in front of the warehouse, the two men got out. Oscar opened Shea’s door, grabbed her collar, and pulled her from the vehicle, causing her to stumble. When she regained her feet, something hard pressed against the back of her head. A gun barrel, no doubt. Victor held Wendy with a firm grip on her arm.

“Walk.” Oscar’s voice purred with delight and malice. He grabbed Shea’s arm and led her over the gravel driveway. Victor unlocked the side door, releasing the bolt with a clack. The door squeaked open.

Using his gun as a prod, Oscar pushed Shea and Wendy down the hallway and into the main room of the warehouse, then pushed Shea backward into a folding chair. The familiar pungent sweetness of black tar heroin hung heavy in the air.

Wendy slumped in a chair to Shea’s right, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her sweaty hair was plastered against her head. I’m sure I’m no beauty to behold either, she thought. Not that I ever was. Behind them sat the table Victor’s guys used to cut heroin into hex.

Oscar stood a few paces back, with his Colt 1911 in his hand and Shea’s Glock sticking out of the front of his waistband. Victor towered over her. His face had the rumpled, worn texture of a discarded snake skin.

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