Page 127 of Traces Of You

Randy took a knife out and pulled up her sleeve, the sneer of his face blackening his soul darker than coal. “I don’t have to believe anything. Maybe some pain will loosen your tongue. Bobby, do you want the honors?”

“Wait,” she screamed. She was going to puke, the spit traveling up her throat at bullet train speed. Tears were forming in her eyes, then rolling down her cheeks like a fire blazing out of control. “Tell me what it is, maybe I can help.”

“You know,” Randy said, shaking his head. He was enjoying this. She could see it in his eyes as he brought the knife close to her face, the tip trailing down her cheek. Her entire body locked up, frozen in fear, knowing even the smallest flinch could drive the blade into her skin.

“I don’t,” she sobbed. It was hard to be strong when she feared for her life. For the pain that she knew was going to come.

“It’s pills,” the third man said, coming into the room. The one who’d snatched her off the street had a stench that clung to him like weeks without a bath, sweat soured by the absence of deodorant. Whatever it was, the rancid smell was the same, and it only deepened her nausea.

She heard screeching, low, tiny sounds, and looked at his dirt-stained hands.

“Get that thing away from me,” Randy said, stepping back. “Put it back in the cage with the others.”

It finally registered it was a rat and there were multiple cages in the room. The spinning noises were some on wheels.

The odor was uncleaned cages.

Even Randy had a fear or a weakness. Could she crack anything else with him?

It might be her only hope.

“I don’t know anything about pills other than what Oliver has in the house.”

“That’s it,” Randy said. “Exactly what I’m looking for. You took them. Street value of close to thirty thousand. And though that’s not worth a lot for most dealers, it’s not the first time I’ve come up short. I’m positive it was you all along to fund your escape route.”

It was exactly what Ford said. That Oliver must have been skimming off the top.

“Have you looked at your cousin for it?” She had nothing to lose throwing Oliver’s name in there.

Randy huffed strong enough to send his hideous breath crawling over her skin. “Oliver doesn’t have the balls to steal from me. He told me you staged the break-in, then you drugged him, and took off with everything.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She gagged twice and spat. She couldn’t control the nausea. “Can I get some water? I’m going to be sick.”

“You’ll be fine,” Randy said, waving his hand as if he was swatting a fly.

“I don’t want to clean up puke,” Bobby said. “It turns my stomach.”

Funny considering he didn’t have a problem knocking her out or wanting to cut her.

“It’s my head. I’ve got a concussion. I’ve had them before.”

One too many hits to the noggin by her mother or any guy she’d been with. Not to mention what Oliver had done to her. One ER visit confirmed it when she was throwing up and lost consciousness as a child.

Her mother picked up and moved them two days later.

“Get her some water,” Randy demanded. The man that was holding the rat left the room, petting it as if he was his new friend.

“I’m telling you. I found little baggies of pills in the house. I thought Oliver was using them. When I left over a month ago, I found a stash of bags like that. It’s him. It’s always been him if you’re missing small amounts.”

Randy shook his head. “I don’t believe it. He told meyouliked to take the edge off.”

“Never,” she argued. “He was always in pain, or said he was. That he couldn’t sleep.”

“She’s right,” Bobby said. “I’ve heard him whining about it before.”

She looked at the guy who knocked her out. Not that she thought she had a chance of reaching either of them, but if she could cast a flicker of doubt she was going to take it.

“Oliver did. I’ve found bags of pills in the past. We fought over him keeping them in the house and his refusal to tell me what some of them were. I swear it. Are you friends with him? You’d know that then.”