A voice in the back of Jeannie Smith’s mind whispered that
she should be resigned to her ugly fate.
She’d always known that she was going to come to a bad end.
Everyone had said so. Her mother said it just before the
older woman had run off with her latest lover. Her
grandparents said it when they’d kicked her out of their
house when she was just sixteen. And even her pimp said it
when he’d caught sight of the infected track marks on her
inner arms.
A bad end was what happened to girls like her.
And it wasn’t like she hadn’t had any warning. Since she’d
started working as a whore she’d been beaten, robbed, and
dumped in the gutter. It’d only gotten worse when she’d
left the streets of Kansas City to become a lot lizard.
Trolling the truck stops and rest areas along the
interstate was considered the lowest of the lowest, even
for whores. Which meant that it was only for the most
desperate women.
But even after all the beatings and rough sex she’d been
forced to endure, nothing had taught her the true meaning
of horror until the john who’d picked her tonight.
Which was weird, really.
He was so handsome.
Dark skin, glossy black hair and rich brown eyes.
The sort of dude who could have any woman he wanted.
Of course, that might explain why she hadn’t instantly been
wary when he’d urged her into the long trailer attached to
his semi-truck. Not even when she realized it was equipped
with a freezer. It was better than doing the john against
the wall of the diner. Or on the hard gravel of the lot.
But as she climbed into the back of the trailer, she caught
sight of the other men already waiting for her. Shit, she
was in trouble.
She jerked her arm, struggling to free herself from her
companion’s grip.
“Hey, there was nothing said about this being a party,” she
protested.
One of the men stepped forward, his face wrapped in
shadows.
“It took you long enough,” he snapped. “There’s a half
dozen whores out there. What were you doing?”
The john holding her arm flinched. Clearly the other dude
was in charge.
“You said she had to be a blond. This was the first one I
could find.
The man in charge snorted. “Well, while you were
dillydallying the rest of us nearly froze off our balls.”
There was a grumble of agreement from the shadows at the
back of the trailer. Jeannie hissed in fear. How many
were there? Four? Five? Maybe even more?
“You cleaned up from the last one?” the man holding her
rasped, clearly attempting to hide his nerves behind an air
of bluster.
“Of course,” the other stranger drawled. “Our previous
guest is hidden with the others. Now it’s time for some
more fun.”
The numbing sense of resignation was abruptly replaced with
a savage need to fight back.
Maybe her destiny had been decided on the dismal day she’d
been born. Maybe her fate was to die in a bad way.
But by God, she’d spent twenty years fighting to survive.
She wasn’t going down easily.
She struggled against the bastards as they strapped her
down and ripped off her clothes. And even when they took
turns raping her.
She struggled until her original john was standing over her
bruised and bloody body, a crowbar in his hand.
There was a brief hesitation as he gazed down at her.
Almost as if the man wasn’t certain he was prepared to
commit the ultimate sin. Then, with the shadowed man
whispering in his ear, he at last lifted the crowbar,
swinging it with desperate power. There was an odd
whistling sound as the metal cut through the icy air.
Jeannie was strangely mesmerized by the sheer horror of
what was happening. At least until she felt a blast of
pain as it connected with the side of her face.
Then she felt nothing.
A bad end…
