I was stiff as her hands moved down my face, chest, legs, back. Rain tugged me close, covering my mouth with hers.
I didn’t react to the kiss. Didn’t pull away or press.
Soon enough, it was over. I studied her as she sat back, wondering what she got out of that.
“It was either that or beating you with this wrench.” She waved it to prove her point. “I’m not convinced I chose right, so you should probably go.
“I’ll find you,” she promised.
Saying nothing, I grabbed the last two sandbags and loped off into the trees.
***
Rainey
I got to my feet and pitched forward, dropping hard on my knees. Hands shaking, I fixed my clothes and tugged my jeans up. I couldn’t think about my brief encounter with Cairo. Couldn’t let my mind grasp the aching pressure between my legs, or the promise I made him. I couldn’t think about the fact that I meant it.
Not now, a voice screamed. Nothing else matters right now.
I’ve wasted so much time. The one thing Jennifer did not have.
I leaped off the truck and my toes sank in the dirt. “Shit!”
Cursing Cairo six ways to Sunday, I didn’t bother looking for my shoes. With nowhere else to go, I disappeared into the trees, following Cairo.
The Westchester Drumlin property was five acres of bush, overgrown trees, and a dilapidated house that looked like a good strong breeze would blow it down. Many strong winds, thunderstorms, and dozens of hurricanes have tried, but the old Westchester home proved as tough as its namesake.
She stood proudly through the break in the brush, still stately though most of her windows were broken, and the back doors welcoming her guests swung on rusted hinges.
I watched the Bedlam Boys tromp inside. Roan, Legend, Jacques, and Arsenio. They arrived at some point and must’ve come in from the front.
Cairo dumped the last of the sand, said something to Cavendish, then gifted him a blindfold. After he went inside with the rest. I waited as long as I dared and stepped out.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
Speakers circled the outline of the lawn, ready to pump music at mind-scrambling levels. I’d never been to a Ruckus Royale, but with one look, I knew the Bedlam Boys outdid them all.
Beer cooler fountains scattered all over the place. That was the best phrase to describe their invention—three tubs of ice stacked together like a chocolate fountain. Instead, this fountain was chock-full of bottles and raining ice water.
There were more tubs and buckets. Those were filled with—
I peered inside.
—paint. Glow-in-the-dark paint, and rows of plastic guns lined behind them, leaving no doubt.
I kept going. Passing one of the candy tables, I stopped short. It wasn’t rainbow Skittles in those multicolored bowls. They were pills. Of all shapes, sizes, and potency. Who the hell knew what they were or what would happen if you downed them? The sign by the bowls simply said three words. Get Fucked Responsibly.
All of that was impressive, but it was not the sight to see.
Five posts stretched to the sky. The Bedlam Boys were kind— Was that the word? They were generous to build a platform for the three men and two women to stand on. Hands tied around the post and secured; blindfolds heightened their helplessness. I wasn’t surprised to hear a few of them crying.
I recognized all of them except one. Professor Valdez tied to a post wasn’t the surprise it should have been. If I had to pay for what I did to Jacques that morning, Valdez wasn’t getting off any easier for threatening him.
A vision of the hangman’s noose floated in my mind. Though that wasn’t what they had planned for tonight.
I kneeled before Cavendish, touching the cool sand. The well they dug circling the sacrifices, and the tubs of gasoline beside the pill-popper table, colored the lines in for me. This was a burning.
“Cavendish.”
He turned his head in my direction. “Rainey. Thought that was you. Fear makes you smell like pine needles. And sweat,” he said. “I’m glad it’s the last thing I’ll smell before we end this here and now.”
“It’s not over yet, Cavendish.” I didn’t let my voice carry. “There’s still time for you and Jennifer. Tell me where she is, and no one has to die tonight.”
“I told you, everyone has to die. You give me the death I’ve chosen or Jennifer receives the one you’ve chosen for her.”
“Scott—”
“Here’s another rhyme for you,” he said, turning his face to the moonlight and smiling as though he basked in it. “Tick, ticking, tock. Rainey ran down the clock. Time ran out. No one heard Jen shout. Tick, ticking, tock.”
Rage surged up in me, balling my fists. I raised them, ready to pop his guts up through his throat and see if he found that funny, then my gaze fell on the gas container.