Prey Drive (22 page)

Thirty-Four

The hotel bar was full of empty barstools and bored waitresses. The bartender was an older woman, mid- to late-thirties, with platinum blonde hair and big pendulous breasts. The woman stared at Selene hard as she walked in. It immediately occurred to Selene that this bartender was exactly the type of woman Joseph Miles would have been attracted to. Looking at her large breasts and hips made her miss the big cannibal all the more. Even though she’d never been physical with him, he’d shared a piece of her, and after all the letters and phone calls, she felt like she knew his soul.

At first she thought the woman was another jealous bitch mean-mugging her to compensate for some insecurity or inner self-hatred projected outward as animosity toward anyone prettier than her. A “hater,” in other words. Selene was used to that sort of reaction from women. Then the bartender smiled and looked Selene over from head to toe, and Selene realized what the long stare had been for—the woman was checking her out. She was a lesbian and she was attracted to Selene and not making any attempt to hide it. Selene returned the bartender’s smile and took a seat at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the woman asked.

Selene grinned and licked her lips.

“Something wet, exotic, and intoxicating.”

The bartender smiled back coyly and once again dragged her eyes over Selene’s body, slower this time, more deliberately, and without the slightest pretense of modesty.

“Sex on the beach or a slow comfortable screw?” The bartender asked, sucking on a maraschino cherry and twirling her tongue around it like it was an engorged clitoris.

“I’m really in the mood for a screaming orgasm.”

The bartender pursed her lips, made a whistling noise, and then smiled.

“So am I, sister. So am I.”

The woman began making the drink. Her eyes never wavered from Selene’s except to sweep salaciously over her breasts.

“Maybe,” Selene began. “Maybe we can both have one. What time do you get off?”

“I’m here until the place closes. Midnight tonight.”

Selene checked her watch. It was just after seven p.m. She would have to wait five hours if she wanted the woman and Selene really wanted her.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” Selene asked.

The woman smiled and nodded approvingly. She was obviously not used to being so brazenly pursued by another woman. It was evident from her mannerisms that she was usually the pursuer, but she was enjoying the role reversal.

“My name’s Wendy.”

Selene held out her hand and the large woman took it and held it rather than shake it and release it.

“Nice to meet you, Wendy. My name’s Selene.”

“Are you staying here at the hotel?”

Selene held up her door key.

“Room 212. You’re welcome any time.”

Wendy smiled then and suddenly looked over Selene’s shoulder and frowned.

“Is he with you?”

Selene turned and frowned when she saw a large man standing behind her in a faded, black
“I Spit On Your Grave”
promotional T-shirt, wearing baggy, black cargo jeans and black, retro Adidas shell-tops. He had long, greasy, black hair that was all one length and he wore black fingernail polish and eyeliner like an Alice Cooper or Ozzy Osborne wannabe. He smiled with a mouthful of yellowing teeth. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in days and hadn’t brushed or flossed in months. Selene looked him over, scowling in disgust.

“Selene?”

“Yes? And who are you?”

“I’m Dirk, Joe’s cousin. We talked a few times? We need to talk.”

Selene turned back to Wendy the bartender and rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be back,” she said, then Selene stood up and walked toward the exit.

“Follow me,” Selene said, swinging her Prada handbag over her shoulder and storming past the greasy Heavy Metal/ Goth kid. She could hear him struggling to keep up with her as she strode in long purposeful steps toward the elevator.

“Wait! Hold on. You’re walking too fast!”

Once inside the elevator, Selene whirled on him, jabbing a finger in Dirk’s chest and pinning him in place with her angry dark eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Dirk?”

“Joe wanted me to find you.”

Selene’s features softened.

“You spoke to him? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“And he asked for me?”

She knew she sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush on the high school quarterback. She was practically gushing, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Yeah, he wanted me to let you know that he’s escaping next week and he needs you to get an SUV. Something big like an Escalade or a Navigator or one of those huge Yukon, Denalis or something. He said to remind you he’s still going to be pretty sore. I guess he got cut up bad. I told him you should get something fast like a Mustang or a Porsche so we can outrun the police, but he said no. I don’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot, Dirk. The last thing we want is to be running from the police. You can’t outrun an entire police force. He needs something he can stretch out in and relax on a long trip. Something with a big rear storage. I’d better make sure it has tinted windows.”

“Yeah! He said that too!”

Selene looked the big scraggly kid over. Except for his size, well over six feet, it was hard to imagine he was related to Joseph. He was so skinny he was practically bony, but still managed to sport a beer belly. He reeked of clove cigarettes, candy, and body odor. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like cleaned up though. Perhaps with that ridiculous hair pulled back out of his face, a shave, and a bath, he might actually look presentable —and he was from the same bloodline as Joseph.

“How is he getting out?”

“He didn’t say. Oh, he said you should check the routes on the truck that takes the bodies from the prison morgue to the crematorium. You know, where it stops, what streets it turns on, that sort of thing.”

Selene nodded.

“What did he want you to do when he escapes?”

“He didn’t say that either. He just wanted me to get you that message.”

Selene smiled and gave Dirk another head to toe appraisal.

“You smell terrible, Dirk. When we get upstairs, you’re taking a shower and you’re shaving.”

“But I don’t want to shave.”

“What you want doesn’t matter right now. Now, does it?”

Dirk locked eyes with Selene for a moment and then looked away, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“No. I guess not. I just don’t see how me shaving is going to help get Joe out of prison.”

“You don’t need to understand. You just need to do what I say. Me and Joe are the only ones who need to understand.”

The elevator stopped and Selene strode down the hall with Dirk still struggling to keep up despite the fact that his legs were easily twice as long as hers.

“Have you ever heard of drunken shrimp?”

Dirk looked confused for a moment.

“Uh, no. What is it?”

“It’s one of my favorite Cantonese dishes. Have you ever had saki?”

“You mean like sushi? I don’t like raw fish.”

“Saki. Not Sushi. Japanese rice wine. The Chinese make a similar drink. It’s very potent. You’ll like it. I’ll get us some from somewhere while you get showered.” She looked him over again, and Dirk squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

“What do you keep looking at me like that for?”

“Do you have any body hair? Like on your chest or stomach or your back or anything?”

“A little, I guess. Why?”

“Shave that off too and your pubic hair.”

“Shave my pubes? What the fuck for?”

“It’s part of the plan, Dirk. You’ll understand it all soon. Just use my razor when you get in the shower and come out looking like you did when you left the womb.”

“You’re not going to dress me up like a woman or anything are you?”

Selene snickered.

“Why? Does that get you off, Dirk?”

Dirk scowled in exaggerated outrage.

“No! I like girls.”

Selene smiled and wagged her finger at him.

“Not all transvestites are homosexuals, Dirk. I used to date a guy who liked to wear women’s clothes. He was hung like a horse and fucked like a demon. You should be more open-minded.”

“Are you really going to get wine?”

“Chinese rice wine, yes.”

“Like saki?” Dirk asked, repeating her previous description of the drink with obvious delight.

“Sort of.”

“Sweet! Can you get me some tequila too and some Coronas?”

Selene paused and thought about it as they stopped in front of room 212 and she used her credit card-shaped room key to unlock the door.

“Tequila, yes. Corona, no. I hate the taste of beer.”

“Well, you don’t have to drink it. I’ll pay for it.”

“I think the rice wine and tequila will be enough, Dirk. You just get in the shower. One more thing, did Joe say exactly what day he wanted to escape?”

“No. He said he’d call me.”

“Do you have your phone with you?”

“Yeah. It’s right in my pocket.”

“Let me have it.”

Dirk pulled it out and placed it in her hand, this time without questioning her until she turned to walk away.

“Why do you need my cell phone?”

“In case he calls while you’re in the shower. Use plenty of soap. I’ll be back soon.”

Selene waved and shut the door.

Thirty-Five 

The infirmary was a dark maze of shadows when Cindy came to visit Joe. The fluorescent lights that normally lit the place with a stark, white incandescence were out and the cavernous room now resembled a morgue with row after row of bodies laid out under sheets. The smell of vomit, blood, feces, and disinfectant roared in Joe’s nostrils. Moans, snores, and heavy, labored breathing echoed off the sterile walls in a sonorous chorus broken by the sound of Officer Cindy Addison’s leather boots clip-clopping along the vinyl floor.

Joe knew those footsteps. He’d listened to them walk past his cell night after night while he was locked up in supermax, hoping they would stop at his door. Now, they traveled to the side of Joe’s bed.

“Hello, lover,” Joe said.

“Hey, Joe.”

“Help me up,” Joe said, holding out his arms.

Cindy leaned down and slipped an arm around Joe’s shoulders and started to lift him up when he pulled her down into the bed with him. She giggled as he tried to spoon with her, pressing his erection against her back.

“We can’t. Someone will see us,” Cindy whispered.

“Okay, then help me up for real.”

Joe swung his legs off the side of the bed and Cindy rushed over to help lift him to his feet.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Cindy asked.

“I can make it.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here. How far is the morgue?”

“The morgue?” Cindy paused and Joe could feel her tense up. Joe’s old awkwardness had reared its ugly head. He had been trying so hard not to appear creepy. He wanted—
needed
—Cindy to trust him and he hoped he hadn’t just ruined it all. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot and stared down at the floor, drooping his shoulders to appear smaller. He knew that even the most ferocious beast could appear adorable in the right light and he was doing his best impression of a cuddly bear.

“I, um, I heard some of the other inmates talking. They said that’s where a lot of people go for … for some alone time.”

Cindy smiled and visibly relaxed, letting out a quick breath as if she’d been holding it.

“You can barely walk, Joe. I don’t think you’re ready for any alone time quite yet. I don’t want you popping any stitches.”

Joe nodded.

“You’re probably right, but I thought it would be nice to just go somewhere quiet and talk without worrying about people listening in on us.”

Dimples burst on to Cindy’s face as her smile widened, making her look absolutely adorable, like an aging cherub. He leaned down and kissed and then lightly bit her dimpled cheek. He then brushed his palms and fingertips along her jawline, staring at her like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and at that moment she almost was. She was certainly the most beautiful thing he’d seen in months besides Lana who wanted him dead. Joe pushed the image of Lana’s luscious body and sad, angry, beautiful eyes from his mind and leaned down to kiss Cindy’s other cheek. Cindy closed her eyes and let out a satisfied moan.

“Okay, Joe. It isn’t far actually. The infirmary’s right on top of it.”

Cindy led the massive serial killer out of the infirmary and into the dimly lit hallway. Joe lumbered along behind her, watching her unlock one door after another with her electronic key, taking mental note of the directions in case things went wrong and he had to come this way without her. The pain in his chest and stomach was just a dull ache. Maybe he could perform after all.

Thirty-Six

Why the fuck does this crazy bitch want me to shave my sack?
Dirk wondered, standing in the shower, lathering up his testicles with shaving cream. His face, chest, and arms were already smooth and hairless. There was only one area left to address.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this shit,” Dirk said out loud to no one. He took several deep panting breaths, steeling his nerves for the task ahead. He tried to tell himself he was doing it for his big cousin, but he honestly couldn’t see how making his genitals look prepubescent was going to help Joe escape. He was hoping Selene was just trying to get him to clean up and groom himself a bit before she fucked him. Yeah, she was a bit heavier now than she was in the pictures. She’d no doubt put on the extra weight for Joe. He liked those chunky chicks, but she was still incredibly sexy.

Something about Selene made Dirk uncomfortable though. There was something sort of off about her. Something unstable. Talking to her gave him the same nervous, uneasy feeling he got when he talked to his cousin Joe. There was this primal aura of threat and menace radiating from her. There was crazy in her eyes. And, as much as it frightened him, it also made him want to fuck the shit out of her.