Here Comes the Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

breath
to keep from gagging. They’d brought him to a garage stuffed with piles of
boxes marked as stereo systems, plasma screens, and laptops. A thief’s
paradise. A ratty sofa and a folding chair were the only furniture besides the
cot, where they’d thrown Buck.
    Meatface, the man who abducted him, looked like an
out-of-shape lineman with a deeply pockmarked face. Beside him was Jorge, a
Latino in a black turtleneck and Elvis hair, his cheek puffy and his mood
nasty.
    In back of them, and now parting her way to him, was a
basketball-tall, mean-looking brunette with ancient acne scars over a thin
face. She stood observing him as she scratched a rash on her arm with long plum
fingernails.
    Buck was struggling to breath by now, liquid dripping
through his stopped up nose. The woman made a motion to Meatface, who pulled
the duct tape off Buck’s mouth. He winced at the sharp pain.
    “Hello, Mr. Dearmore. I’m Twigs.” She removed some alligator
stilettos and curled her sprawling legs under her in a corner of the sofa.
    Buck’s hands were tied in front, but he was able to motion
to his lips, which were so parched he could barely squawk. “I can’t–-.”
    Twigs said, “Somebody get him a drink.” Both Meatface and
Jorge just stood there, neither willing to acknowledge this as their duty. This
time she growled, “Christ, let’s don’t have a pissing contest over a glass of
water.”
    Begrudgingly, Jorge left and returned a moment later with a
bottled water. He opened it and Buck drank almost half of it in one long gulp.
    “So, Buck—may I call you Buck? I assume you know why you’re
here. Have you got our money?”
    Buck swallowed hard. “I was going to get in touch this
weekend. It’s just that—well, I didn’t have—”
    He was interrupted by one of her flying heels. It clipped
his forehead. He felt blood running down into his eye.
    Twigs leaned forward. “You’re completely full of shit.
Unbelievable. Somebody get me my shoe.”
    Jorge jumped to perform this duty. Twigs signaled Meatface,
who threw the hood back over Buck’s face.
    “No, wait, I—” Buck tried to say, but a punch to his gut
stopped him, nearly raised him off the cot. He could feel Jorge coming in to
him as well, landing another hard shot to his face. They were both laughing,
pummeling him in turn.
    Through the sound of his own grunts he heard Twigs’ heels
click away on the concrete floor.
    “And don’t call me in again until the sonuvabitch is ready
to talk business,” she said, and the door shut behind her.

Chapter 17
    Austin style country music wailed at unsuspecting cattle as
the Mustang roared down asphalt country roads west of Oklahoma City. Erika,
just as spooked as the livestock, white-knuckled the door handle as Tony goofed
around, careening from one lane to another, flirting with the sandy shoulders.
    “Tony, slow down,” she cried above the music and squealing
tires.
    “I’m just havin’ some fun with Jockstrap’s car,” he laughed
as he whipped the car onto a side dirt road. “Come on, loosen up.”
    “I have to pee so bad I can hardly stand it.”
    “What?”
    “I told you way back there I’ve got to go.”
    Tony jammed on the brakes, nearly throwing her into the
dashboard. When she recovered, Erika shot him a go-to-hell look. He shrugged
and smiled. “That’s why I turned off here. Go pee.”
    Fuming, she climbed out of the car. There wasn’t a bush in
sight so she had to squat by the back wheel. A few months ago when they’d
hooked up, Erika had known this was a temporary bad boy thing, but she didn’t
care. It had been fun at first, with great sex, just rough enough to thrill
her. Something about the base way he talked got her excited.
    Then almost immediately, he had gotten possessive,
controlling. He pushed her in ways that made her uncomfortable. Like asking her
to chat up a cashier while he lifted a couple of things at a quick stop. Or
showing her a wallet he’d lifted when they’d been