Sure, the cookies had been a nice dose of sugar we weren’t used to having. But right now, we all needed some real food. And probably some that contained a little less pot. Except for Rue-Rue… Loved the guy buthe neededto chill, enjoy himself, stop clattering around the basement like we had a bunch of armed guards at our door.
The storm did more than buy us time. It covered ourtracks, and Prat’d already told us this cabin wasn’t on the maps. No address meant no GPS location meant no tracking us down.
Besides, we all knew how the politics of this shit worked. It was easier to mark us as DOA than to spend more of the tax payers cash trying to hunt us down. It saved 'em all face too, kept the warden from having to admit a group of convicted felons had gotten out on his watch.
Blitz groaned and cleaned himself up with one of the decorative pillows the old lady of the house had tossed onto the couch, just as Rudy was barreling back up the stairs again with a string of Christmas lights tossed over a shoulder and a couple of boxes in his arms.
He looked from Blitz, to me, and back over to Nickie—who was twirling around the kitchen in nothing but an apron now. I didn’t know what she thought she was making in the dark without any electricity, but she was taking bowls out of cabinets and had grabbed the warm milk from the fridge and set it out by the sink next to a box of pancake mix.
Rudy dropped the boxes on the floor with a loud plop, as daylight finally started streaming in from the wall of windows behind me. My guess? It was nearly seven in the morning, and we’d all slept for maybe four hours.
“What she do now?” Rudy grunted, and Blitz just grinned in reply. “Right, that’s what I thought.”
The big guy continued to mumble something aboutnot getting shit donewith our dicks all outbefore stalking over to Nickie, grabbing her by the wrists and tugging her back into the living room. Not all that unwillingly, though. Seeing as the nutter was giggling along the way.
He then proceeded to take the Christmas lights from his shoulder and toss them in the air, waiting for the cable to catch on one of the rafters. He tugged on the shorter end until he’d fashioned himself a pulley system, snatching up Nickie’s wrists again, wrapping them in the cord, and yanking until they were high above her head and she was suspended on her tiptoes, while she smiled through it all.
“Careful, Soda Pop. I’m ticklish!” she called out at him as he took the other side of the pulley and attached it to a hook on the wall.
“Won’t be so ticklish when I’m done with you.” He ground his teeth and kneeled behind her.
“While you’re down?—”
Her taunt was severed by a squeal when he took a little green bulb from the leftover string of lights and shoved it up her ass, feeding a few more inches into her hole before wrapping the loose ends around her neck and wrists. Then he jumped to his feet and whispered next to her ear. “I wouldn’t clench if I were you. The glass is fragile. Now. Stay. The fuck. Still.”
He didn’t bother waiting for her to answer before storming off towards the kitchen. Not that the girl seemed fazed. He was trying for tough love, but all I think he was doing was turning her on more.
There was just something about redheads that came with a side of daddy issues and a pain kink. Our nymphy little hostess was all that and more.
Rudy glanced around at the stash of cans the twins had piled up on the counter, appearing to do the math in his head. “We got about a day’s worth of dry goods between us. Maybe two,” he said more to himself as he paused to draw a rusty-looking hatchet from his back. “Looks likewe’re going hunting, boys.” He waved the sharp end from Dash to Dane. “You two can stay behind and keep an eye onher.”
Vix whined, and Rudy stifled it with a glare.
“A little bit of cold will help your ass sober the fuck up.”
The rest of us started putting on our socks and shoes—we’d left them drying by the fireplace overnight—and snatching up various weapons and old tools Rudy had scavenged up in the basement.
Just as I was about to make my way towards the door with a chopping axe in tow, Rudy tugged me back by the collar. “I don’t trust her,” he grunted into my ear.
We each peered over into the living room, watching Red bounce on her toes while singing some Christmas song to herself. I recognized the tune but not the words. I was pretty sure she was making those up on her own.
“So you’ve mentioned.” I turned, clamped a hand down on Rudy’s shoulder, and gave it a slight squeeze. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record, man.”
He shrugged, forcing me to drop my hand. “And you’re starting to sound like an asshole.”
He stormed past me and I called out after him, “Just starting?”
CHAPTER 18
NICKIE
“On the second day of Christmas, Granny gave to me…” I hummed to myself. “…an Eiffel Tower and a couple of beefcakes doing the deed…”
One of the beefcakes in question—the one with the scar over his eyebrow and hair shaved down to his head—looked to his counterpart before smiling at me.
“You need some attention, sweetheart?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. He didn’t wait for me to answer before he was kicking his feet off the coffee table and approaching me like the coyote tryin’ to catch the roadrunner. Predator to prey. 'Cept I’d never been very good at being the prey.
I nodded as he reached out a hand and flicked one of my hardened nipples through the fabric of Granny’s apron. She claimed they were flowers. They looked more like vaginas to me.
