Serial Uncut by Blake Crouch & Jack Kilborn & J. A. Konrath

Author:Blake Crouch & Jack Kilborn & J. A. Konrath [Crouch, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller

– 5-

Taylor hadn't ever killed a cop. He came close once, a few years ago, when a state trooper pulled him over, and asked him to step out of his truck. Taylor had been ready to pull his knife and gut the pig, but the cop only wanted him to do a field sobriety test. Taylor wouldn't ever risk driving drunk, and he easily passed, getting let off with a warning and pulling away with a dead hooker in his sleeping compartment.

But he was itching to get at this cop. Taylor liked strong women. He liked when they fought him, refusing to give up. They were so much fun to break. Especially when they had such adorable feet.

As Donaldson suggested, Taylor had left the diner and gone back to his rig to grab the ether. Candi with an i was still out cold, but she held far less fascination for Taylor than this new prospect.

I'm going to have a little nip of Jack Daniels, he thought, smiling wildly. Maybe more than one. And maybe not so little.

For helping out, he'd let Donaldson have Candi. While Taylor wasn't into the whole voyeur scene, it might be interesting to watch another pro do his thing. Hopefully, it didn't involve any sort of sex, because he had zero desire to see Donaldson's flabby, naked ass.

Taylor grabbed the plastic bag-the ether-soaked paper towels still moist-and met Donaldson in the parking lot.

"The best spot is here, in the shadow of this truck," Donaldson said.

Taylor didn't like him calling the shots, but he heard the man out.

"She thinks I'm a fan," Donaldson continued, "so I'm going to call her over here, ask for an autograph. Then you come up behind her with the ether."

"She's armed. Her purse was too heavy to only be carrying a wallet and make-up."

"I saw that, too. I'll grab her wrists, you get her around the neck. We can pull her to the ground here, out of sight. How close is your truck?"

"The red Peterbilt, a few spaces back."

"When she's out, we throw her arms around our shoulders, walk her over there like she's drunk."

Taylor shook his head. "Only when we're sure no one is watching. I don't want a witness getting my plate number."

"Fine. We can walk her around until we're sure we're clear."

Taylor stared at Donaldson for a moment, then said, "She's mine."

Donaldson didn't respond.

"I'll give you the whore for helping me, Donaldson. But the cop is mine."

Donaldson eventually nodded. "Fair enough. Is the whore cute?"

"Too old, fat thighs, saggy gut from popping out kids."

Donaldson raised his eyebrow. "She's got kids?"

Taylor laughed. "You into kiddies, Donaldson?"

"Any port in the storm. But you can have fun with kids in other ways. Did the whore have a cell phone?"

"Yeah."

"Give it here."

Interested in where Donaldson was going with this, Taylor dug the phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Donaldson scrolled through the address book.

"Calling home," Donaldson told him.

"Can't calls be traced?"

"They can be traced to this cell phone, but not to our current location.

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