Prestons.”
Megan’s knees went weak. She dropped onto the cot and stared up at the sheriff, her eyes beseeching him. Pleading.“Please…I don’t want to be a…whore.”
DeMars chuckled.“I reckon you don’t.” He looked her over again, smirking the whole time, his eyes alight with greed and lust.“But, honey, it ain’t up to you.”
The big man steered a disappointed-looking Hal out of the cell.“Come on, ol’ buddy. I got a call to make. And don’t look so hangdog.” He chuckled again.“Hell, maybe I’ll let you have a go at her before we haul her out to the titty bar.”
Hal’s grin returned as he stared at her through the cell’s bars. “I like the sound of that. Can’t wait to bust my nut in that hot little cooze.”
Megan’s stomach twisted again.
She turned down on her side and stretched out across the cot, feeling its springs dig into her hip. She closed her eyes and tried to will the world away. She was tired. So very tired. Physically tired from the long car rideand the walk down that lonely country road. Weary from worrying about Pete. And sick unto death of being appraised and discussed by the people of Hopkins Bend as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat.
The cell door clanged shut.
Megan didn’t hear it.
She had already slipped into the world of dreams.
Things were no better there.
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
Hoke Mitchell awoke with a scream on his lips. The scream felt like a coiled and rusty chain being ripped from his lungs in one long, savage yank. The force of the primal terror driving the thunderous exhalation from his lungs strained every muscle in his body, set every nerve ending afire. He lurched into a sitting position as the scream died, breathing hard, sweat pouring from his brow and into his eyes. The terror generated by the screaming nightmare still held him firmly in its grip. Even so, he needed barely more than a second to realize that something odd and unexpected had occurred during his time behind the veil of sleep.
The pigs were gone.
The barn was quiet.
And every article of clothing had been stripped from his body. He stood up and took a look around. No sign of the clothes. His heart sped up as a singularly disquieting idea gripped him. He slapped a hand behind him, probed at his asshole with a finger, and breathed a sigh of relief. It did not feel violated. He would not have been surprisedto find evidence to the contrary. Still, it was strange. Why had they taken his fucking clothes? Perhaps they assumed basic modesty would render him less likely to flee. Which only proved how little these backward sons of bitches knew about Hoke fucking Mitchell.
Modesty was not one of his virtues.
Hoke started toward the barn door, which still stood wide open, letting in the bright sunlight. The intensity of the light had dimmed a tiny bit. He reckoned nightfall would be here within an hour or so. His best bet was to get into the woods and hide until then, then maybe see about making it back to civilization under cover of darkness.
He reached the barn door and came to a dead stop.
Hoke stared.
Hoke said,“Gulp.”
Well, here was the answer to the mystery of the missing pigs. The little pink bastards were arrayed in a loose-knit group outside the barn door. They were not snuffling around and cavorting in the usual manner of your usual carefree pigs. The eyes of each animal turned to regard him with expressions that conveyed equal measures of malice and warning. The identical expressions of the animals hinted at a weird kind of group intelligence. A hive-mind kind of vibe. Each eye followed him as he stepped out of the barn, tracking him with the keen and deadly patience of a combat sniper. Hoke was no animal-behavior expert, but he was pretty sure this was not the sort of thing pigs would normally do. Or ever, really. The scrutiny of the animals was deeply unsettling, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him.
Shit, man. They’re just piggies.
He stepped
Megan’s knees went weak. She dropped onto the cot and stared up at the sheriff, her eyes beseeching him. Pleading.“Please…I don’t want to be a…whore.”
DeMars chuckled.“I reckon you don’t.” He looked her over again, smirking the whole time, his eyes alight with greed and lust.“But, honey, it ain’t up to you.”
The big man steered a disappointed-looking Hal out of the cell.“Come on, ol’ buddy. I got a call to make. And don’t look so hangdog.” He chuckled again.“Hell, maybe I’ll let you have a go at her before we haul her out to the titty bar.”
Hal’s grin returned as he stared at her through the cell’s bars. “I like the sound of that. Can’t wait to bust my nut in that hot little cooze.”
Megan’s stomach twisted again.
She turned down on her side and stretched out across the cot, feeling its springs dig into her hip. She closed her eyes and tried to will the world away. She was tired. So very tired. Physically tired from the long car rideand the walk down that lonely country road. Weary from worrying about Pete. And sick unto death of being appraised and discussed by the people of Hopkins Bend as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat.
The cell door clanged shut.
Megan didn’t hear it.
She had already slipped into the world of dreams.
Things were no better there.
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
Hoke Mitchell awoke with a scream on his lips. The scream felt like a coiled and rusty chain being ripped from his lungs in one long, savage yank. The force of the primal terror driving the thunderous exhalation from his lungs strained every muscle in his body, set every nerve ending afire. He lurched into a sitting position as the scream died, breathing hard, sweat pouring from his brow and into his eyes. The terror generated by the screaming nightmare still held him firmly in its grip. Even so, he needed barely more than a second to realize that something odd and unexpected had occurred during his time behind the veil of sleep.
The pigs were gone.
The barn was quiet.
And every article of clothing had been stripped from his body. He stood up and took a look around. No sign of the clothes. His heart sped up as a singularly disquieting idea gripped him. He slapped a hand behind him, probed at his asshole with a finger, and breathed a sigh of relief. It did not feel violated. He would not have been surprisedto find evidence to the contrary. Still, it was strange. Why had they taken his fucking clothes? Perhaps they assumed basic modesty would render him less likely to flee. Which only proved how little these backward sons of bitches knew about Hoke fucking Mitchell.
Modesty was not one of his virtues.
Hoke started toward the barn door, which still stood wide open, letting in the bright sunlight. The intensity of the light had dimmed a tiny bit. He reckoned nightfall would be here within an hour or so. His best bet was to get into the woods and hide until then, then maybe see about making it back to civilization under cover of darkness.
He reached the barn door and came to a dead stop.
Hoke stared.
Hoke said,“Gulp.”
Well, here was the answer to the mystery of the missing pigs. The little pink bastards were arrayed in a loose-knit group outside the barn door. They were not snuffling around and cavorting in the usual manner of your usual carefree pigs. The eyes of each animal turned to regard him with expressions that conveyed equal measures of malice and warning. The identical expressions of the animals hinted at a weird kind of group intelligence. A hive-mind kind of vibe. Each eye followed him as he stepped out of the barn, tracking him with the keen and deadly patience of a combat sniper. Hoke was no animal-behavior expert, but he was pretty sure this was not the sort of thing pigs would normally do. Or ever, really. The scrutiny of the animals was deeply unsettling, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him.
Shit, man. They’re just piggies.
He stepped
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