Serial Uncut - J. A. Konrath [32]
“We don’t know each other well yet. But we’re kindred spirits. Maybe we could even become friends.”
“It’s possible.”
“How long will the cop be out for?” Donaldson asked.
“A few minutes, probably more. Pinch her, see if she flinches. When they’re really under, they don’t flinch.”
Donaldson leaned over Jack Daniels and squeezed her breast. She didn’t move.
“She’s out. You have some rope?”
“More bungee cords in the trunk.”
Neither man moved to get them. Eventually, Donaldson raised an eyebrow. “Are you a gambling man, Taylor?”
“I’ve been known to play the odds.”
“Let’s flip a coin. Winner gets first crack at the cop.”
Taylor considered it. “I’d be up for that, if it were a fair toss.”
“We could go in the diner, have our waitress do the flipping. I’ll even let you call it. Would be good to get out in the fresh air, clear our heads.”
“Let’s say I agree. You still have me at a disadvantage.”
Donaldson nodded. “The gun. Firing it wouldn’t be smart for either of us. Cops might already be on their way, after what Lieutenant Daniels did to that pimp.”
“I’ve got a solution.”
“I’m listening.”
“An empty gun isn’t a threat. Hand me the bullets. But do it slowly, or else I might get nervous and lock you up here for a few days with no air conditioning or water.”
“Fair enough.”
Donaldson gently reached back into his pants and removed the gun. He held it upside-down by the trigger guard, and swung out the cylinder. Then he dumped the rounds onto his palm and handed them to Taylor.
Taylor grinned.
Maybe this tag-team thing will work out after all.
“Are we good?” Donaldson asked.
“We’re good. Let’s hogtie this pig.”
Taylor climbed into the sleeper, and after an uneasy moment of sizing each other up, the two of them began to bind the cop. Donaldson quickly got the hang of it, and they soon had Jack suitably trussed.
“You sure she’s safe here?” Donaldson asked, admiring their handiwork.
“Never had an escape. Bungee cords are tighter than rope. The enclosure is steel, the lock on the door is solid. She’s not going anywhere.”
Taylor grabbed the cop’s purse, wound it over his shoulder, and crawled down out of the sleeper after Donaldson. He made sure the trap door was locked, took what he wanted from the purse, and together they walked back to the diner.
8
The moment they were gone I rolled onto my belly and inch-wormed up to my knees. My hands were behind my back, the bungee cords so tight my fingers were tingling. I strained against the elastic, trying to twist my wrists apart, but couldn’t free myself.
More cords wound around my chest and upper arms, and encircled my knees and ankles. I flopped onto my side, wincing at the pain. My shoulder still hurt, and there was a throb in my left breast where Donaldson had pinched me. If he’d done it for a few seconds longer, I would have screamed.
Pretending to be unconscious seemed like a better choice than really being unconscious, but when they tied me up I realized that maybe fighting back and yelling for help when I had the chance might have been the better move.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me, and I began to hyperventilate. Fear and I were old adversaries. There was no way to squelch it, but if I kept my focus I could work through the fear. The goal was to not think about any potential outcome to this situation other than escape.
Still unable to open my eyes because of the stinging, I rolled to my left, hoping to bump into anything that would help me free myself. I hit something soft. I brushed my cheek against it. Foam of some kind. I rolled right instead, eventually coming up against something more suitable. Something hard, stuck into the floor. After maneuvering around onto my knees, I rubbed my hands against the object.
It felt like a board, only two feet tall, and thin. Midway down the side was some sort of protrusion. Though my hands were quickly getting numb, I could tell by the sound when I jiggled it that it was