Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (59 page)

She lost track of the time—of the times and
positions and rides and orgasms. She lost herself and found Peter
and he found her, too, again and again. In the end, the gauze had
been ripped from the bedposts, and they were covered in rose petals
from head to toe. The shower washed most of them off but they
giggled as they wiped them off their feet before snuggling back in
bed together.

She’d almost forgotten her chance meeting
and the man in the boat until Peter fell asleep, his breathing deep
and even, but she was still awake, staring up at the cast of
moonlight on the ceiling. It was in that moment she remembered and
looked at a clock, finding that it was already a little after three
in the morning. They’d been having sex for hours and hours.

She thought about staying, curled against
Peter’s sleeping back, but the call of the swamp and her own
curiosity got the better of her. She only had her dress to wear—all
her new clothes were still downstairs in their boxes—so she slipped
it over her head and eased the bedroom door open.

The house was sleeping and dark. A few doors
were cracked down the hallway, but only the sounds of snoring met
her as she made her way, barefoot, down the stairs. Downstairs, the
place was a mess, cups and plates and food littering every
available surface. Obviously Tink had decided to clean up in the
morning.

Wendy took a deep breath and slipped out the
patio doors into the night.

The crickets greeted her with a rising hum
as she made her way toward the water. She found him just where he
said he would be, waiting in his boat, the motor silent.

“Hello there, Wendy Dahling.”

“Hi.” She stopped, hesitating, glancing back
toward the house. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Just a little past three.” Hook glanced at
his phone, a beam in the darkness. “I take it you had a good night,
then?”

“Fine.” She blushed, thinking of Peter,
sleeping in his bed. “So… you said you’d tell me about Peter.”

“And so I will.” He patted the seat beside
him. “Come on, let’s go for a ride.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
She took a step back, glancing toward the house, and saw the flash
of someone coming down the path. Her heart dropped, worried that it
might be Peter, that he might be angry. Of course he would be. What
had she been thinking?

“Can’t talk here.” Hook nodded toward the
figure hurrying down the walkway. “See? Too many interruptions.” He
used the pole to push the boat toward the shore and held out his
hand for her. “Besides, I want to show you something.”

“What?” Wendy stretched a trembling hand
toward his, hearing a familiar voice calling.

“Wait!” Tink shouted, her voice dropping at
least an octave. “Wendy! Wait!”

“Come with me and find out,” Hook insisted,
leaning in to catch hold of her hand. She gasped at the strength of
his grip. “Trust me, it will be worth it.”

“And you’ll tell me more about Peter?” she
asked, hearing Tink yelling for her, panting, out of breath,
running now.

“I promise!” Hook agreed, yanking her toward
the boat. “Now hurry!”

She took a step up and he pulled her in,
starting the motor in the next instant, leaving Tink standing on
the shoreline, calling after them, her voice fading as they
traveled through the swamp.

The last thing Wendy heard was Tink’s cry,
“You’re making a big mistake!” and as she turned to face James Hook
steering the boat through the darkness, she hoped that Peter’s
spiteful, cross-dressing friend wasn’t right this time.

* * * *

“Thirsty.” Water was all she could think of.
It was all around her, the sounds of frogs jumping and splashing in
it at her bare feet. Her tongue felt thick and dry. “Please. So
thirsty.”

“You look quite horrible, you know.” James
Hook smirked from his perch on the end of the boat. There’d been
nowhere to go when he’d lunged for her, knocking her head against
the side of the outboard motor, and as if that wasn’t enough
already to knock her out, covering her mouth and nose with a nasty
tasting chloroform.

She’d awakened like this, tied to a post in
the middle of the swamp on a tiny little island. More of a muddy
hill really. He must have created it just for this purpose. She
could see the lights of a cabin on the shore, the thing
dilapidated, falling apart. She could see that much, even in the
moonlight. She didn’t know where they were, how far they’d come.
Tink had been right after all. She’d made a terrible mistake.

“Please,” she begged, trying to swallow.

“Oh save the theatrics for when your
boyfriend arrives.” Hook waved her cries away, using a very large
knife to wedge the mud out of the treads on his boot. “That’s when
the drama will be useful.”

“What do you want?” Wendy croaked.

“I want what’s mine.”

What did that mean? She didn’t know. “I
didn’t do anything to you. I don’t even know you.”

“That’s incidental.” Hook slid the knife
against the side of the boat, scraping mud off. “Peter will come
for you. That’s all that matters.”

“He won’t.” She said it defiantly, although
she knew it wasn’t true. “He hardly knows me.”

“Oh he will,” Hook disagreed. “I’ve never
seen him take to someone like I’ve seen him take to you.”

Wendy went quiet. She knew it, even before
she said it. “You lied to me.”

“He didn’t pick you for your brains, did
he?” He laughed, shaking his dark head in the moonlight. “At least
you’re catching on.”

“What do you want from Peter?” She was
slowly working on the duct tape wrapped around her wrists. She was
wet from the struggle from boat to pole and she was sweaty, the
swamp air heavy and thick, making the tape nice and moist.

Hook snorted. “You want the story?”

“Yes.” She wondered what she would do when
she was free. Jump into the water? The Florida Everglades wasn’t
exactly the best place to go for a swim. She could hear the call of
alligators in the distance.

“I suppose we can spend our time talking
until your knight in shining armor arrives.” Hook stepped off the
boat, which he’d anchored to the pole, onto her little island.
There was hardly enough room for the two of them and he pressed
himself against her in the darkness. “Although I did have some
other things in mind. Things that would really, really bother your
boyfriend.”

He used the knife in his hand to slit the
shoulder of her dress in one swift motion. She hadn’t realized the
blade had touched her until she looked down, seeing her skin like
silver in the moonlight, a dark line of blood running toward her
nipple. The sight of it made her feel faint.

“You promised!” she reminded him,
desperate.

“I make lots of promises.” He leaned in and
licked at her shoulder and she realized he was tasting her blood.
She shuddered, horrified. What kind of man was this? “But I don’t
keep them.”

“How will Peter know where to find us?” She
tried to distract him. Clearly he wanted Peter to come after her,
although to what end, she couldn’t begin to imagine. “How could he
possibly find this place in the dark?”

“He could find it blindfolded.” Hook
chuckled, his knife blade sliding under the other shoulder of her
dress. She winced, feeling a sting, knowing he’s once again cut her
flesh. “He used to live here.”

“Here?” She was too shocked by his words to
register the pain, staring at the broken-down shack in the
distance. There was nothing else up and down the swamp that she
could see, no other lights. “When?”

“Poor little orphaned Peter.” Hook drove the
knife into the wood above her head and took a step back—as far as
he could go without falling into the water, and looked down at her
breasts. “He needed so much looking after.”

“What did you do?” She stared at him, and
would have kicked him in the groin and sent him flying into the
swamp if her feet hadn’t been secured to the post with duct tape as
well.

“He was a good trained monkey. For a little
while.” Hook grabbed her breast, squeezing, fondling, assessing,
his face impassive. “And he learned the trade well enough. All the
boys did.”

“What trade?” she asked breathlessly,
ignoring his groping hand and working her own behind her back,
hoping for a break.

“The oldest profession in the world.”

“You… sold them? As prostitutes?” Her
twisting and turning stopped. “You’re nothing more than a
pimp!”

“And you, my dear, are a whore.” He twisted
her nipple, making her scream in pain. “You’ll make a fine profit
for me too.”

No!
Her mind screamed even louder,
faced once again with a man who wanted to use her for his own
pleasure and profit.
No!
She wouldn’t do it, not again, not
ever again.

“Peter got the best of you, didn’t he?” She
spoke the words softly but clearly. “He beat you.”

“He won a little battle.” Hook sneered. “But
he hasn’t won the war.”

“He did win,” she insisted. “He’s done just
fine without you.”

“Fucking bitch,” he spat, pressing her up
against the pole, the splintered wood biting her bare back. “So
Peter took
my
boys and
my
money. So it’s taken me
five years to find him.
Now
it’s time to settle the
score.”

Five years. My god, how old was Peter when
he left, Wendy wondered. Thirteen? How long had this man forced him
to prostitute himself…?

“It was you on the phone with Tink.” Her
realization made her stomach drop to her knees. He had found
them—and Tink had tried to warn Peter. Over and over, Tink had
tried to tell him. She’d even tried to stop Wendy from leaving with
Hook.

“Got a little tip from a client.” Hook
grinned and she gasped, feeling him fumbling with the belt on his
pants, knowing what was coming. “Music guy—talking about some new
group,
The Lost Boys
, and their charismatic lead singer,
Peter Pann.”

“No,” Wendy whispered, but his hand was
under her dress, groping her between the legs.

“I never thought he’d settle so close to the
old homestead,” Hook mused, his fingers parting her roughly. “Oh
stop that whining. I’ve got to fuck you to make it real. A man’s
gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

“Please,” she begged, trying to make herself
smaller against the pole.

“Cap’n?” The voice called across the water
and they both looked into the swampy darkness. The light from a
flashlight bobbed along the shoreline.

“Smede!” Hook called. “Get in the
house!”

“But I want to play with the girl!” came a
plaintive protest.

“Later!” Hook called, his voice dropped as
he looked at Wendy, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I’m going
to play first.”

“Cap’n?” Smede called again.

“Go!” Hook roared and the light bobbed
again, heading back toward the house.

“Why does he call you captain?” Wendy asked,
hoping to distract him. She heard a splash in the water behind them
and hoped it wasn’t an alligator. And then, when his cock was stiff
against her belly, pressing her against the pole, she hoped it
was.

“Because I’m the captain and they’re my
obedient crew.” His breath was hot, rancid, and she turned her face
away, feeling his fingers probing between her legs, looking for an
entrance. It wasn’t going to be easy, given her position. He could
hardly spread her legs, but she had a feeling he was going to
manage, even if he ripped her to shreds.

If he puts that in me, I’m going to kill
myself. Or him. Whichever I can manage to do first.

“Damn, you’re tight,” he remarked, his
fingers working their way in, making her cry out in pain. “Gotta
fuck you up a little more. Make you really pathetic. It’ll make him
crazy to see you like that.”

“Get your hands off me.” Wendy’s words had
so much weight behind them Hook actually stopped, looking down at
her.

“What did you say?” He blinked at her,
bemused. She knew he was getting ready to hit her. She knew that
look on any man’s face well enough.

“She said, get your fucking hands off her.”
Tink’s arms came out from behind Wendy as if they were her own,
knocking Hook back into the water. He sputtered and flailed, and
Wendy glanced behind her as Tink grabbed the knife out of the wood
and quickly cut the rope tying the boat to the island, pushing it
adrift. Then she bent to saw through her duct tape binding.

“Thank you,” Wendy managed, trying to cover
herself as Tink worked the duct tape at her feet.

“You bitch!” Hook was still flailing,
reaching for the little island, but Tink had pushed him very hard
and his movements had driven him further away. The boat was
drifting in the opposite direction. “I can’t fucking swim! Smede!
Smede!”

Hook bellowed and splashed and both women
stared at the spectacle, clinging to each other to stay balanced in
the small space. Wendy was shivering, from cold and fear, and she
let Tink hold her, the woman’s breasts a wonderful pillow, a
respite from reality. They were both wet and their body heat served
to keep them warm.

“Now what?” Wendy wondered out loud, seeing
a flashlight beam moving toward them from the house.

“The cavalry has arrived.” Tink looked
upstream and Wendy heard it—the sound of a boat motor. But would
they be here in time? And did Smede have a gun? The thought made
her even colder and she clung to Tink, trembling. “It’s okay,
Wendy. You’re okay.”

“Smede!” Hook’s cries were growing fainter,
his motions slowing. “Help! Help!”

They both heard the splash and Hook’s
cut-off cry. “I’m going to—”

“Cap’n?” Smede had shown up at the water’s
edge just in time to shine the light on Hook and see the rising
reptilian head, the massive jaws snapping open and shut over the
man’s head. Wendy screamed and turned her face against Tink’s not
unconsiderable bosom, but the sound of the death roll splashing
echoed through the swamp.