Serial Uncut - J. A. Konrath [18]
“The bedroom is upstairs.” Taylor pointed to the stepladder in the rear of the extended cab, leading to his overhead sleeping compartment.
“Is there enough room up there? Some of those spaces are tight.”
“Plenty. I customized it myself. It’s to die for.”
Taylor smiled, knowing he was being coy, knowing it didn’t matter at this point. His heart rate was up, his palms itchy, and he had that excited/sick feeling that junkies got right before they jabbed the needle in. If Candi suddenly had a change of heart, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was past the point of no return.
But Candi didn’t resist. She went up first, pushing the trap door on the cab’s ceiling, climbing into the darkness above. Taylor hit the light switch on his dashboard and followed her.
“What is this? Padding?”
She was on her hands and knees, running her palm across the floor of the sleeper, testing its springiness with her fingers.
“Judo mats. Extra thick. Very easy to clean up.”
“You got mats on the walls too?” She got on her knees and reached overhead, touching the spongy material on the arced ceiling, her exposed belly jiggling.
“Those are baffles. Keeps the sound out.” He smiled, closing the trap door behind him. “And in.”
The lighting was subdued, just a simple overhead fixture next to the smoke alarm. The soundproofing was black foam, the mats a deep beige, and there was no furniture in the enclosure except for an inflatable rubber mattress and a medium-sized metal trunk.
“This is kind of kinky. Are you kinky, Taylor?”
“You might say that.”
Taylor crawled over to the trunk at the far end of the enclosure. After dialing the combination lock, he opened the lid. Then he moved his Tupperware container aside and took out a fresh roll of paper towels, a disposable paper nose and mouth mask, and an aerosol spray can. He ripped off three paper towels, then slipped the mask on over his face, adjusting the rubber band so it didn’t catch in his hair.
“What is that, sugar?” Candi asked. Her flirty, playful demeanor was slipping a bit.
“Starter fluid. You squirt it into your carburetor, it helps the engine turn over. Its main ingredient is diethyl ether.”
He held the paper towels at arm’s length, then sprayed them until they were soaked.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Candi looked panicked now. And she had good reason to be.
“This will knock you out so I can tie you up. You’re not the prettiest flower in the bouquet, Candi with an i. But you have the cutest little toes.”
He grinned again. But this wasn’t one of his attractive grins. The whore shrunk away from him.
“Don’t hurt me, man! Please! I got kids!”
“They must be so proud.”
Taylor approached her, on his knees, savoring her fear. She tried to crawl to the right and get around him, get to the trap door. But that was closed and now concealed by matting, and Taylor knew she had no idea where it was.
He watched her realize escape wasn’t an option, and then she dug into her little purse for a weapon or a cell phone or a bribe or something else that she thought might help but wouldn’t. Taylor hit her square in the nose, then tossed the purse aside. A small canister of pepper spray spilled out, along with a cell phone, make-up, Tic-Tacs, and several condoms.
“You lied to me,” Taylor said, slapping her again. “You’ve got rubbers.”
“Please…”
“You lying little slut. Were you going to pepper spray me?”
“No… I…”
“Liar.” Another slap. “I think you need to be taught a lesson. And I don’t think you’ll like it. But I will.”
Candi’s hands covered her bleeding nose and she moaned something that sounded like, “Please… My kids…”
“Does your pimp offer life insurance?”
She whimpered.
“No? That’s a shame. Well, I’m sure he’ll take care of your children for you. He’ll probably have them turning tricks by next week.”
Taylor knocked her hands away and pressed the cold, wet paper towels to her face. Not hard enough to cut off air, but hard enough that she had to breathe through them. Even though he wore a paper face mask, some of the pungent, bitter odor got into Taylor