Hot Revenge Box Set 4

It takes the pair of them to lift me; her at my feet, him at my shoulders; carrying me to a car parked, as I now realise, only yards
away. They roll me over the edge of the trunk, where I thump down, landing awkwardly and on my face. Twisting, I’m still trying
to ease myself into a more comfortable position when, letting me see her do it, Juliana delves into her bag again. She produces
a small bottle, sets it on the edge of the trunk, then after another rummage, plastic packets containing syringe and needle...
My bladder tightens.
At least the needle will be clean...
“He's not going anywhere, Sola,” says Jose. “Nowhere we don't want him to go anyway.”
“I don’t want him enjoying the ride too much. Just check he's properly restrained.”
Jose leans in, gripping me at my shoulder, rolling me. He prods at my knees and my ankles, both locked tight. Then at my
elbows. “He’s fine.”
“Good.” Juliana’s eyes flick between mine and the needle and syringe as she assembles them. Then she grins again as she
draws clear liquid from the bottle. “You’re going to take a little nap, Larry.”
I want to look away but force myself to watch as she holds the needle over me. Lamplight glints from the tip as she hovers over
my arm then moves instead for my neck.
She’s not gentle, stabbing in. My vision is already blackening, my ears buzzing as she gives me a quick pat on the cheek. “Just
think of the fun we’re going to have together, you and I.”
Then she slams the lid down, and I fall into the darkness both inside and outside my skull...
*****
I wake to a banging headache and a foul taste in my mouth. Behind the tape, I swipe my tongue inside cheeks and over teeth,
trying to work up enough saliva to moisten cotton-puff flesh.
It takes a little while for me to gather my head and make sense of the rest.
I’m lying side-on in the confined space of the trunk, chin pressing toward my chest, knees crooked. It’s dark, but not completely
so, as light leaks through crevices.

The car grumbles and vibrates, stopping and starting irregularly with jolts that bang my forehead against some metal object; a
car jack I think. My face stings where I scraped the ground earlier. My spine strains at my unnatural posture.
Outside; the sounds of other traffic; a lot of it, as though we are travelling through a city centre; the grind of engines, the hooting
of horns, occasional shouting and swearing. My arms are still locked behind me, the plastic ties digging in. My fingertips feel
swollen and numb at the same time. My ankles are much the same. With some difficulty, I shuffle along a little to stop the jack
jamming into my skull every time the car goes over a rough spot.
But the pain is nothing. I know what Juliana is capable of; the depth of her vindictiveness. Panic rises in a surging tide,
threatening to overwhelm.
Baxter...
... as I last saw him...
... Cuffed, fettered, both hands smashed; hammer and crowbar used on bone and flesh until they were all but pulped; beyond all
hope of repair or surgery. Probably needing amputation...
... Both arms and one leg broken. A smashed knee. And then, shackled to a wall so he couldn’t stand upright. Couldn’t sit either.
Abandoned... Twisted, agonised and bloody...
... for me to find.
Will he ever walk normally again? I doubt it. The surgeons can only do so much. There has to be enough left for them to repair.
And now, I am Juliana’s prisoner.
The air is hot, stifling in the confined space.
It comes to me that my cheek is pressed against something, harder, then softer with the rocking of the vehicle. It sticks slightly to
my skin. And now, with time to think about my surroundings, there’s an odd smell; slightly floral, but with a metallic tang...
Oh, fuck...
Straining to slant eyes downward, I make out plastic wrap. And inside that, packets; hundreds of small plastic packets.
My face is pillowed against a street value of a million or more in cocaine.

Hope to Christ they're properly sealed...
Am I breathing the dust?
Probably not. I have no sense of a Superman high. Quite the contrary. As I try to see sidelong, from my awkward position and in
the limited light, it does seem that the plastic sheet under my face is sturdy stuff; heavy-duty.
And Juliana doesn’t want me dead. Not this way at least.
.... You're not going to die. Not yet. I want you to live for a long, long time...
What’s she planning?
My bladder protests, with every jolt and rumble of the car, threatening to rebel and cut loose.
Don’t piss yourself...
She’d love that...
The sound of traffic dies. The drive grows smoother and for me, marginally less uncomfortable. My only possible movement is
the rocking of my body with the swing of the vehicle, the vibration of the engine.
After a while, I sway sidelong against the side, the car easing into a turn. The engine grinds to a halt, rumbles then dies. A
handbrake squeaks on.
From right and left, the click and thud of doors opening. The crunch of footsteps, the clunk of the trunk lock and the lid opens,
flooding brilliant sunshine into my prison.
Despite myself, I gurgle and turn streaming eyes away from the daylight until a shadow falls over my face. Juliana’s silhouette
looms black against an azure sky. “That’s better, Larry. We have a little privacy now...”
She produces the hypo again, leaning in... “... I hope you’re enjoying your little ride. I'll not spoil the surprise by telling you where
we’re going.
The needle pierces my skin and once more, the world fades to black.
*****

James
“That’s enough for your first lesson, Georgie,” I say. “You’ll be creased up tomorrow if you do too much in one go.”
My daughter... my elder daughter... teeters uncertainly in the saddle. “Is that enough exercise for a horse? It didn’t feel like
long.”
“No, but Charlotte will take her out now and give her a good run. If it’s something you want to do again, we’ll come out tomorrow.
C’mon, I’ll help you down.”
Leading Charlie and Oliver back to the stable, Charlotte is waiting, already wearing boots and helmet. She runs a quick eye over
Charlie then smiles at Georgie. “All good? Enjoy that?”
“Very much. I’d love to do it again if that’s okay?”
“Course it is.” She turns to me. “You take Georgie back to the house. I’ll see to these two.”
Oliver snorts and pushes forward, nuzzling at a pocket for the apples he knows she keeps there.
*****