Ruthless Read Online Free PDF Page B

parents. My shock pleases the Wolfman. I can see it in his face.
    He says, “Why’d you stop dealing? Seven to both of us.”
    As I deal the cards, I pray. Dear God. Help me. Please help me. Please, God, help me.
    â€œCaleb’s texts made for interesting reading. Not too bright, is he?”
    â€œHe’s smart; he’s just dyslexic. That’s why he can’t spell. But he’s smart.”
    â€œNot smart enough to get away from you.”
    His mockery of Caleb makes me angry. “And neither are you, apparently,” I say.
    He likes my threat, thinks it’s cute. “You really are the ­toughestcase yet. You haven’t even cried.” With relish he adds, “This is going to take some work.”
    There’s a disturbing undercurrent of perversion beneath those words. So far he’s been oddly rational, under control. But I know I’m not here to play cards and be lectured to. I’m here to be purified, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the purification he has planned will defile and destroy me, and eventually leave me dead.
    I want to get back to cards and lectures. “And now there’s seven cards dealt. What are we playing?”
    â€œIt’s a game I invented. If you win, we keep playing. If you lose, we play a new kind of game. The record holder is seven games won. But she lost in the end, of course. They all do.”
    It is evident that I don’t want to move on to whatever the “new kind of game” might be. “What are the rules?”
    â€œThe goal is to get the queen of hearts.” He pauses. “I call it the Virgin Queen.”
    There it is. His rational veneer has slipped, exposing his slimy underbelly, and now the cards really are out on the table. I bark out a laugh and pray it sounds authentic. “If that’s what you thought you’re getting, I hate to break it to you, but I’m no virgin.”
    I’m lying. But I figure, if it’s virgins he wants, it’ll be sluts he hates. I have nothing against sluts, personally. I try to channel Rachel, a girl from school who likes to brag about her conquests. She even once bragged about acquiring a disease. I call up our conversation. Not too hard, as it was a memorable one.
    â€œTruth is, two weeks ago I had to go to Planned Parenthood.Turns out it was trich. You ever heard of trich? It’s not even a bacteria or a virus; it’s a protozoa. A little animal.” I try to nod knowingly, but it probably looks more like I’m having a seizure.
    â€œYou’re lying.”
    â€œYou wish I was lying.” I ransack my fuzzy brain for a key detail from Rachel’s story. Her antibiotic was the same thing we used when our dog had giardia. I visualize the label on Hooligan’s pill bottle. There. I see it. “I’m taking metronidazole to clear it up, but I’m still contagious.”
    â€œYou’re lying. You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
    How did he know that? My cheeks flush again. Few things embarrass me more than my lifelong lack of a boyfriend. With all the bravado I can muster I say, “Sluts don’t have boyfriends.”
    Please, dear God, make me appear believable as a slut. Please, please let him think I’m a slut.
    I peer into those strange eyes and I see doubt.
    The cards sit before us. Unplayed.
    A shrill ring blares out of nowhere, making us both jump. He stands, grabbing the gun with his left hand, and pulls a phone out of his front pocket with his right. I can’t believe there’s cell reception up here. Maybe we’re not as far out into the middle of nowhere as I thought.
    He answers his phone. After saying hello, he says “Yes, sir,” several times, his tone polite and professional. He hangs up, returns the phone to his pocket. The Wolfman leans in to the kitchen counter, his back to me. His shoulders go up and down, up and down, and I realize