Tonight You're Mine (2 page)

“But she goes to a
rich
man,” the other said, then hiccuped. “A rich man in a mansion. What else for her? No slumming with guys like us. No sir, not for her. When she wants a little action, she goes to her own kind.”

How did they know she'd been to see a man? Nicole wondered inanely.

“I want you to start your nice car,” the older one said. “I want you to pull away from the curb slow, understand?” Nicole managed another tiny nod. “You better understand 'cause you try
anything
and this knife goes in your throat. One slice, little bird, and you're dead.”

The blade of the knife was not so cold now. It had pressed against Nicole's skin for over a minute, long enough for her to realize it was serrated and diamond-sharp. It was also held in a jittery hand tight with tension. One small tremor would split her skin. A stronger one would pierce blood vessels.

Her fingers had turned icy. She realized she still clutched the keys, and she raised her right hand, fumbling as she tried to insert the proper key into the ignition.

“Hurry up!”

“Trying,” she mouthed against the callused hand covering her mouth.

The big hand moved down to her chin, still holding her head backward in a viselike grip. “What?”

“Trying.”

“Try harder.”

Blindly she fumbled with the keys on the ring. They jangled and slithered as if alive in her trembling hand. She tried one, then another. Finally the third slipped in the ignition. She turned it and the car started smoothly. She hadn't shut off the radio and Queen's “Radio Ga-Ga” boomed through the interior. The knife pushed dangerously against her throat and she gasped. “Turn that thing off!” the older one shouted.

Nicole didn't need to see to find the radio she listened to constantly. Her hand immediately shot sideways, but her stiff fingers slipped off the knob before she'd completely clicked off the instrument. The music played on, softly. “That's okay,” the younger one said pleasantly. “Good song. Great concert group. The windows are closed. No one can hear. Leave it on.”

The other one sighed. “Such a spoiled baby. Always got to have music. Okay. You want music, we'll have music. Little bird, turn on the headlights.”

Nicole fumbled along the dash until she found the headlight knob. She pulled and the lights came on low beam.

“Good. Now go.”

“Can't see,” Nicole croaked, the angle of her head constricting her windpipe.

“What you mean you can't see? You got lights.”

“Can't see.”

“You got her head jerked back too far,” the younger one said casually. “Ease up some, man.”

“Don't give me orders!” The knife trembled against Nicole's neck. She could feel his rage rising like a sharp wind.

“Okay. Don't freak out. It was just a suggestion.”

A grunt before the knife-wielder abruptly complied, lessening the pressure of his hand on her jaw. “Okay, now
go
!” Fighting to control her shaking, Nicole lowered her head, shifted into drive, and crept away from the curb.

“Good, little bird,” the man said gently. “Drive nice and slow. No tricks.”

Nicole eased the car down the residential street. No tricks? She could always try jerking the steering wheel to the right and slamming into a parked car, but she knew the serrated knife would be in her throat at the moment of impact. No, there would be no tricks. At least not for now.

The younger man had begun to sing along with the music in a surprisingly strong, melodic voice. I
know
that voice, Nicole thought with a jolt. She hadn't recognized it when he was speaking, but now it was familiar. She'd heard this guy
sing
before. But where? When? Her memory blurred when the older man began to sing off-key in his own rough voice before they both stumbled over the lyrics and fell into raucous laughter.

Hollow with fear, Nicole kept the car at a steady fifteen miles an hour, desperately scanning the road for potholes. If she hit even a small one, the sudden movement could send the knife into her throat.

Vaguely she was aware of lights on in the houses she passed—big, luxurious houses where people sat in safety. They had no idea what was happening just a few hundred feet from them. How ironic, she thought. Help was so close, yet so far from her reach.

They came to the end of the street. “Turn here,” the man said. “Nice and slow.” Nicole obeyed. “Good. Now turn again.”

They were on Dick Frederick Street, heading out of residential Olmos Park into the empty grounds of Basin Park. Lights glowed dimly from the dashboard. She knew that if she glanced in the rearview mirror, she could see the face of the man holding the knife. But that would be a mistake. He might panic if he thought she could identify him later. If, please God, there
was
a later.

They passed no other cars on the narrow road. Suddenly it seemed more like three in the morning than ten o'clock at night, Nicole thought in frustration. Where
was
everyone?

One of the men made a soft snorting sound, gasped softly, then let out a sigh of delight. “Want some?” the younger one asked.

“In a minute. I'm busy with the knife right now.”

Drugs, Nicole thought. Not just liquor but drugs. Cocaine? No, more likely crystal meth. It was cheaper. That explained the excitability, rapid breathing, tremors. They were hyped up, acting on false courage. And if Nicole remembered correctly, one of the symptoms of amphetamine abuse could be assaultiveness.

“All right, now pull your car off the road.”

“What?” Nicole whispered with a sinking heart.

“Can't you hear?” the man shouted in her ear as she cringed. “Pull your car to the left, off the road. Way off the road, into the brush.”

As Nicole slowed the car, she was relieved the man moved the knife away from her throat a fraction when they jolted into the undergrowth. The headlights picked out spiny shrubs, empty aluminum cans, and crushed Styrofoam cups. This was the kind of place people passed by quickly, never stopping. A deserted place abandoned to weeds and trash. Suddenly it seemed to Nicole as if until this moment the whole experience had been a terrifying dream. Now it was becoming real and she felt as if she were sinking in quicksand. The more she cooperated, the deeper she sank. There was no way out. She was doomed to endure whatever these two had in store for her. Her mind shuddered away from the possibilities.

They nearly bumped into a small mesquite tree and Nicole stopped. “Now turn off the car and the lights.”

Do something! her mind screamed as she switched off the headlights and the ignition. But do what? Even honking the horn wouldn't help at this point. No one could hear. She had no weapons, not even Mace in her purse.

“Take the knife.”

The sharp edge of the knife lifted from her throat for a moment as the knife changed hands. Then the dangerous points pricked at her skin again. Someone took hold of her hair, yanking it so hard she yelped. “You gonna get out of the car very,
very
slow,” the razor-voiced one said. “You can't run because I'm holding you. Besides, Ritch—” He broke off sharply. “There's a knife at your throat, little bird. You can't outrun us. You won't even try, will you?”

“No,” she whimpered. “But you don't have to do this. My father has money. He's not rich, but my boyfriend is. If you just let me go, they'll both pay you.”

Foolish, adolescent-sounding snickering emerged from the backseat. The younger one. “Okay,” the razor-voiced one said. “We'll let you go. Then tomorrow we'll go to your daddy's house and your boyfriend's house and they'll both hand us envelopes full of money. So simple.” He wrenched her hair so hard she couldn't believe it didn't come out in his hand. “You think we're fools?”

Nicole's insides twisted as they both fell into that awful, maniacal laughter again. Idiot, she thought. This wasn't a television show. How could she have thought she could talk her way out of this with offers of money?

“Not even a very smart try,” the older one said with a mixture of amusement and disgust. “Maybe you're dumber than you look. Just a
puta
they let in college because she's got a pretty face and a daddy with money. Get out of the car.”

“Please,” Nicole begged in a thin, ragged voice. “Please, I haven't done anything to you—”

“But I'm gonna do things to you. Things you'll never forget.” He twisted her hair another painful notch tighter and she cried out, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. “Quit squealing like a pig and get
out
!”

In numb resignation, Nicole opened the car door. The interior lights came on. If only a car would drive by, she thought desperately. Please,
please
let a car pass.

But the road was empty and dark.

She stepped from the car, staggering with the weakness of fear. For a moment he released her hair. Even if the moment had been longer, though, she was too helpless to run. Her legs shook and she knew she couldn't get away from these two lunatics whose reflexes were sharpened by amphetamines. By the time her feet were firmly on the ground, a muscular arm in a sweatshirt gripped her around the waist and the knife again pressed into her throat. She heard car doors closing and the interior lights blinked off.

“Into the brush,” he ordered.

She stumbled forward, the long dry grass crunching under her boots. A few trees grew in the area, their branches bare against the night sky. In the distance she heard cars, saw the flash of lights. She looked up and stumbled over an abandoned tire, almost falling. The arm around her tightened, and the knife finally slightly pierced her skin. The man cursed violently. A thin trail of warm blood oozed down her neck, tickling slightly as it slithered over her collarbone.

Suddenly he threw her to the ground so hard he knocked the breath from her. She landed on her back, a rock jabbing excruciatingly into her hipbone. Silent with the shock of the pain, she looked up and saw an overpass. Interstate 281, she thought distantly. That's where all the cars and lights were. Hundreds of cars sped over 281, none of their passengers knowing what was going on below them in the dry Texas grass. I'm only half a mile from home, she realized. Half a mile from love and safety.

Nicole felt the weight of a body descend over hers. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the right, letting out a tiny sob. “Relax,” the sandpapery voice crooned in her ear. “You gonna enjoy this, baby. You never had anything like this.” He paused. “Hold her.”

Hands pinned her shoulders to the ground. Suddenly she felt her jeans being jerked from her body. Every time he jerked, trying to pull off the tight jeans, her hipbone hit the sharp stone again. “Damn,” he spat. “Why couldn't you wear a skirt?”

Later, Nicole couldn't remember what made her begin to fight at this moment. Seconds earlier she'd been limp with fear and resignation, but now adrenaline flooded her body. With an animal cry she didn't recognize as her own voice, she kicked out, eliciting a pained shout from her attacker. He hit her face with his fist so hard she thought she was going to pass out, especially when she heard a bone crack, but she didn't stop fighting, thrashing wildly against the weight of two male bodies.

But the men were too strong for her. The next few minutes were a nightmare of pain, terror, and humiliation. Her face grew wet with their saliva, her ears rang with their wild laughter and their shouts of triumph as they reduced her to something less than human.

Through it all she'd kept her eyes squeezed tight, trying to shut out at least part of what was happening to her. Even when she realized the sexual assault was over, she wouldn't look although she no longer thought an ability to identify them might jeopardize her life. She had abandoned the hope of saving her life. She just didn't want her last earthly memory to be of their savage, hated faces.

For a few seconds, while she lay quietly wishing she could pass out and escape the pain, she heard only their panting, a few grunts, a high-pitched snicker. Then the older one said, “Now we gotta do her.”

“I thought that's what we just did,” the younger one giggled.

“No. I mean really
do
her.”

Slowly the giggling stopped. “You mean kill her?”

“Sure, man.”

Nicole heard movement in the grass, as if one of them were attempting to stand up. “Look, Magaro, rape's one thing. I didn't count on murder.”

“What did you think? We're gonna beat and rape a girl like this, then just leave her alone? You don't think she's goin' to the police?”

“She doesn't know who we are. She never looked at us. I made sure. She doesn't know who we are.”

“She didn't
look
at us?” the older one spat out. “How do you know she didn't sneak a peek? Besides, you couldn't help showing off your voice in the car. Maybe she's heard the band. Maybe she recognized the voice. And,
genius
, you just said my name.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Now we
got
to kill her.”

Nicole, cold, in physical and emotional agony, lay motionless, her eyes still closed, but she heard the younger one's voice begin to betray anxiety. “Look how still she is. Maybe she's already dead.”

“She's not. Are you, little bird?” He hit her face again, splitting her lip, dislocating her jaw, and a moan escaped her.

“I…I still don't think she knows who we are. We can get away with it. I mean, God,
murder
. I don't…” Nicole was aware of a sharp intake of breath. “Listen, man, I don't think I can do it.”

“Oh, you
can't
? A little short on courage? Well, I'm not gonna do it alone.”

“Magaro—”

“Shut
up
! You hold her down again.”