Not One of Us(78)

“Five minutes,” he promised, then hung up. That’s what I liked about Cash. He never asked questions, never acted surprised. Just did what he was told. If only everyone were so malleable, there’d be no need to silence them.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said to Jori. “We’re going to walk toward the road and then go for a ride.”

Her eyes shot daggers at me, but she wasn’t stupid. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Up you go.” I twisted one of her arms behind her back and jerked her to her feet.

I guided her off the beaten path and shoved her in front of me, still twisting her arm behind her back. She stumbled forward at a slow clip in what I suspected was a deliberately passive-aggressive move. Didn’t matter. Even at this slow rate, we’d reach our destination before Cash arrived with the car.

I didn’t like this situation one bit. But I’d do what was necessary, even if she was family.





Chapter 33


JORI


“You little witch,” Uncle Buddy muttered, strengthening his hold and twisting my arm another degree tighter until tears ran down my face. “Why can’t you just mind me? It will be easier on both of us that way.”

A car motor sounded from the distance and roared closer before coming to a complete stop. From the trees, I made out a black truck. Cash Johnson opened the door and stepped out.

“Buddy?” he called.

“Over here.”

Fear paralyzed my muscles, and I sagged against Uncle Buddy. If those two forced me into the car, my fate would be sealed. Buddy’s voice wasn’t the only one I’d heard on that tape. Cash had been there as well. “Please don’t do this,” I begged. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Cat’s out of the bag already,” he said. “I’m truly sorry.”

“I’ll make up some kind of story for Tegan,” I promised. I’d promise him anything at this point.

Cash walked to the edge of the woods, then entered, stomping through the dense underbrush.

“What kind of story?” Uncle Buddy asked.

“Like I was mistaken. That I can’t identify your voice.”

“Don’t believe anything she says.” Cash burst through, scanning me from head to toe with open contempt.

I swallowed hard. The man had always creeped me out, but until this moment his disdain had been shadowed, hidden beneath a thin veneer of politeness. The mask was stripped away now.

“Jori Trahern’s been nothing but a slut since she was in high school,” Cash continued. “Always sneaking around at night meeting her boyfriend. Screwing him in that old smokehouse.”

The memory of Deacon and what these two had done to him fueled me with rage. He shouldn’t have died so young. He’d been denied so much, his life stolen.

“Why did you kill him? Why?”

They ignored my anguished question. Cash grabbed my free arm and twisted it behind my back. I was trapped between them as they dragged me forward. We reached the street, and I desperately searched in both directions. Not a car or person was in sight. Cash opened the passenger door to the back seat. I stared at the gray interior with mounting terror. My inner voice screamed a warning.

Do not get in that truck.

If I did, there’d be no escape. I’d be totally at the mercy of these two psychopaths. They would kill me.

My feet dug into the ground like leaden weights, and I leaned backward, struggling to free my arms from their grasps. Their fingers dug grooves into my already abused biceps. Still, I screamed and flailed from side to side, hoping against hope to break free of their grip for just one second. If I could, I might be able to outrun them, considering they were so much older than me.

“You bring some rope?” Uncle Buddy asked Cash. His voice was strained, and he panted from exertion.

Rope? I redoubled my efforts to get free.

“It’s in the back floorboard,” Cash said. “You get it while I hold her.”

The moment Uncle Buddy dropped my arm, I kicked Cash in the shin with all my strength, desperate to get away.

Sharp pain exploded from my left shoulder with a loud pop. The dislocation burned like a hot poker and stole my breath.

In a haze of pain, I screamed uselessly as Uncle Buddy returned to my side and bound my wrists behind my back. Next, he bound my ankles with rope as Cash kept the pressure on my dislocated shoulder. I was shoved into the back seat, Uncle Buddy beside me. The truck door slammed shut, sounding like a death knell.

I was entirely at their mercy—a quality I knew they both distinctly lacked.

Cash entered the front of the truck and threw a torn piece of cloth at Buddy. “Want to gag her?”

Without answering or any hesitation, Uncle Buddy grabbed my jaw. I twisted my head from side to side. He slapped me hard in the face. The stinging flesh on my right cheek temporarily stunned me. He placed the cloth between my teeth and roughly tied the gag. It was suffocating. I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. I forced myself to calm down, slowly inhaling and exhaling.

Uncle Buddy shoved me to the floorboard, and the truck began to roll. The vibrations rumbled through my body as I attempted to collect my wits. I had to think. I had to develop a plan. The first step was to be aware of my location. If I made it out of the vehicle alive, I needed to know which direction to run.