“Okay.”
Myra started stroking Jolene’s hair. “Would you say your son Jake is an ungrateful little piece of shit?”
“Yes. Yes, I certainly would.” Jolene nodded.
“Good. I can see you and I are on the same page now.”
Jolene closed her eyes and savored the feel of Myra’s fingers gliding through her hair. All of her previous anger and fear dissipated. She’d badly misjudged this girl. Something about her touch made all the bad feelings go away. She shivered when Myra’s fingertips brushed the back of her neck. A little erotic tingle went through her. It felt nice. More than that, it felt…familiar.
Myra leaned close and whispered into her ear. “I’m getting you out of here, Jolene. In more ways than one, I’ll be your liberator. But I’ll be expecting a favor in return. There’ll come a time when I’ll ask you to help me hurt Jake.”
Myra’s other hand settled on Jolene’s knee.
The girl’s breath was nice and warm on her earlobe. “Will you help me with that, Jolene?”
“Yes. I’ll do anything you ask,” Jolene sighed.
Myra smiled. “Of course you will.”
She gave Jolene’s knee a squeeze, then got to her feet.
She held out a hand and Jolene let the girl pull her off the cot.
Then, arm in arm, they walked out of the jail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Bridget’s gaze was riveted to the knife in Jordan’s hand. “You cheated.”
Jordan sneered. “Think I give a shit?”
Bridget smiled. “Guess not. The concept of fair play’s for chumps anyway. Should have done it myself.”
Jordan glanced back and forth between Angela and Bridget. Though possession of the knife gave her a theoretic advantage over them, her elation didn’t last long. The other women possessed amazing, unnatural strength. She wasn’t at all certain she could win against either of them, unarmed or not.
Against the two of them working in tandem…
She shivered.
“Look, she’s getting scared,” Angela said with a chuckle.
Bridget locked eyes with Jordan. Jordan’s throat felt thick and her heart fluttered. “I see that. She’ll pee herself any second now.”
Jordan’s expression hardened. “Shut up.” She brandished the knife in a general way. “Keep your fucking mouths shut. You think I won’t use this? Okay, maybe I am scared, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to get out of this.”
Bridget covered her mouth. She looked as if she were attempting to suppress hysterical laughter. But Jordan knew the truth-the bitch was just mocking her again. Bridget’s hand came away from her mouth and she laughed heartily. “You’re so cute, Jordan. You with that knife, so big in your scrawny little hand. You’re a child playing at grown-up games.” She licked her lips. “So it’s time to start treating you like a child. You’ve been extra naughty. So I’ll be bending you over my knee for a spanking in a minute.”
Angela leered. “Oooh, now you’re just turning her on.”
Bridget giggled.
“Go. To. Hell,” Jordan seethed.
The mirth vanished from Bridget’s face at once. Her expression now was cold and unforgiving. “I’m tired of indulging your pathetic rebellion.” She glanced at Angela. “Get the bitch.” She looked at Jordan. “Now.”
Jordan gasped and took an unconscious step backward. She waved the knife again. “Stay back!”
Angela rose from her chair, stretching to her full height, which was just an inch or so shy of six feet. She cut a very impressive figure, with long, lean legs, a flat, concave stomach, and toned and gleaming muscles. She was the sort of woman people had in mind when they used the term “Amazonian.” She stood still for a moment, smiling softly and holding Jordan’s gaze, intimidating the smaller woman with her physicality. Then she began to approach Jordan, slowly, with a slight sway to her hips.
Jordan was unable to suppress a whimper. The hand holding the knife shook visibly. She was sure it would tumble to the floor any moment. “Stop.” Her voice was a hoarse, desperate whisper. “Stay right there.”
Angela just kept coming.
“I’m about to take that knife away from you, little girl.” There was something hungry in her expression. Something eager. “And I’m gonna put it in a real uncomfortable place.”
Jordan’s body was close to betraying her. Her knees were shaking and the world around her had become soft-focus. The floor felt slippery beneath her, almost insubstantial, as if it could swallow her like quicksand. She felt unspeakably weak, like a failing wisp of a thing, barely alive.
Angela said, “Why don’t you save us both some trouble? You know you won’t be able to do anything to me. Don’t embarrass yourself. Hell, you’re almost down for the count already.” She was within a few feet of Jordan now. She held out her hand. “Just hand it over.”
Jordan’s grip tightened on the knife. She bit her lip hard, and some of her strength and focus came back. Just enough, as it turned out. Animal instinct drove what happened next-she slashed at the extended hand, and the sharp blade cut a deep trail across Angela’s open palm. Angela shrieked as blood gushed out of the wound.
Bridget said, “Shit.”
Jordan pressed her new advantage, moving in to slash at Angela again. The blade opened a deep cut just below the woman’s collarbone. She stumbled backward, blood pouring over her breasts. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear. A part of Jordan thrilled at the sight of it, a savage, primal piece of her psyche she had never been in touch with before. It scared her, but she also knew she needed to embrace it to have any hope of getting out of this place alive.
Angela was holding her hands up for protection.
A torrent of words spilled through her trembling lips, panic-driven cries for mercy.
Jordan loved it.
Reveled in it.
The big, bad bitch was begging.
Jordan slashed her with the knife again, a strike that went deep into the meaty part of a forearm. She had to dig the blade out. Angela screamed some more and staggered backward. Then there was a loud squeal, the source of which wasn’t immediately apparent to Jordan. Then Angela tumbled over something and landed hard on the linoleum. The squeal came again, and Jordan saw that Angela had tripped over the beach ball creature. The thing that had been described to her as one of Lamia’s “minions” opened its wide mouth and displayed rows of sharp, jagged teeth.
Then it took a chunk out of Angela’s left calf.
Angela spasmed on the floor, kicking her leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge the creature, which again chomped down on her leg.
Bridget shot up out of her chair. “Stop!”
Angela tried to rise, but Jordan kicked her in the stomach. Driven again by that savage, unforgiving part of her psyche, she dropped to her knees next to the fallen woman, raised the knife high above her head, and slammed it down. The blade punched through Angela’s chest wall, impaling her heart and stopping it cold.
Jordan watched the life fade from her vanquished foe’s eyes.
A shudder of revulsion made her stomach lurch. The knife slipped from her hand. She pitched forward, her open palms slapping against the floor. Then it came, an awful tide of bile that filled the back of her throat before exploding out of her wide-open mouth. Fluid mixed with partially digested pieces of Todd splattered against the linoleum. The sight of the vile remains of her neighbor made her stomach heave again, and her entire body spasmed as she sprayed more vomit on the floor.
She became aware of a presence close to her. Bridget. The knowledge should have frightened her. She had to defend herself. She knew it, but for the moment she was incapable of doing anything about it. She was shaking harder than ever, her body beyond her control. That sick weakness returned, engulfing her. Sweat bloomed on her brow and a chill swept through her. She ached all over. She was so miserable she didn’t give a damn what happened to her.