Robert Moore - Hard guys and hostages

"Which we might have been able to kill him with. And we might not."

"Well, Jesus, Sis, you have to take some chances."

"Not with my husband and my baby, you don't."

"Do you think they're going to let your husband and your baby live if they have their way? Use your head, Julie."

"I'm the only one here who is using her head. The only way we can have any chance at all is by biding our time. If they get to fearing us, they'll kill us all, and they won't hesitate to do it. They don't really need us, you know. They're just keeping us alive because it amuses them. And when our amusement value drops below our potential danger, they'll blow us open. That's a thin rope, and we have to walk it."

"Then you don't leave us any hope at all, Sis, we just stay alive as long as it amuses them. And when they decide to leave here, they'll kill us. You know our danger will outweigh our amusement value then."

"We'll have to hope for a chance before then. But it will have to be a real chance, not the kind of half-cocked thing you and Connie pulled just now."

"I doubt we'll ever have the kind of chance you're talking about. You won't feel it's a worthwhile chance unless they just drop dead for us." She gasped a little as the position of her arms and legs became painful. She was glistening with sweat. It served her right, the stupid idiot. "And speaking of Connie, you still haven't answered my other question. Why did you squeal on her? That was terrible. You might have gotten her killed."

"Better her than you or me. Or both you and me. Or all three of us. She should have told on herself to keep that from happening. She was the one who was stupid enough to pick up that shotgun and get all this started."

"Oh, Sis, God, what's the matter with you? She was the only one who picked up the shotgun and did something! She was the one with the guts to cut down the odds."

"There's no sense in discussing it any further, Sally. We just don't agree on how to act in this situation. But I don't plan to do something stupid, and I don't plan to get killed because you and your idiot friend want to play gunslinger."

Sally looked at Julie for a long moment. "Well, we did some good with that escape attempt," she said. "Besides killing Butch, I mean."

"Oh? What's that?"

"We found out that we can't depend on you, or even trust you. Because you're a collaborator. You're on their side."

"I am not on their side!" The words came out too quickly, too vehemently. Sally managed a tight, sardonic smile.

"I don't care how you explain it, Sis. I don't care what kind of excuses you come up with. What it boils down to is that you're on their side. And I'm telling you right now that if another chance comes along, I'll take it. And if you get in my way, I'll kill you. Just like I'd kill one of them."

It was thirty minutes at least before Max thought back to the incident in the barn and realized that the Bradford dame had saved his ass.

From the kitchen he went into the living room and checked on her husband. The man was sitting against the wall, just where they'd left him, and he was still tied tightly. That was one thing about Pete. He did his work well. Even if he was being stupid about killing that little twat. That kind of thinking could well make for their end. Still, Max didn't think it was worthwhile arguing about it with him right at this time. Maybe he could bring him around a little later.

He went down on his haunches and looked at the farmer's wrists to see if they were still tied tightly. He pulled the man a little away from the wall to get a good look. Then he decided to take the gag out of the guy's mouth just for the hell of it.

"How you feelin', buddy?" he asked.

The farmer looked at him coldly. "How would you feel if you'd had your wrists and ankles tied for this long?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you. And I'll ask you one more question: do you think I could afford to let you go?"

"I wouldn't keep a man tied up like this for anything, myself."

"Sure you wouldn't. Not even if your ass depended on it, eh? In a pig's eye you wouldn't. Besides, you know fucking well that if I turned you loose you'd make your try the first chance you got."

"What happened in the kitchen? The shot?"

"We had a little trouble. The visitor, Connie or whatever her name is, shot Butch. Killed him."

"Glad to hear that."

Max smiled. "Yes, I thought you would be. But don't let it swell your head, friend. It isn't going to make much difference. Two of us can handle three women, and you aren't going to be worth a fart in hell, tied up like that. And that's just the way you're going to stay, no matter how sad a song you sing about it."

"You'd better hope I stay tied up," Bradford said. "If I get loose, you're the first one I'm going to head for."

"Really? Well, then, I guess I'd better do my best to keep you trussed."

"I guess you'd better. But you can't keep me this way forever. Sooner or later you're going to make a screwup, mister. And that's going to he your last screwup."

"Maybe I ought to kill you."

Bradford looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I really can't figure out why you haven't done that already."

"Because we don't have anything to lose? I said why I was against the idea in the kitchen, earlier. Your wife might not be so cooperative if you weren't here as a hostage. And she certainly has been cooperative." Max grinned. Bradford's face turned white with anger.

"Shut up," he rasped.

"You know, I can see why you married her. She's a good piece. I can't remember when I've ever had a better one."

"Goddamn you, shut up!"

"Fucks like a trooper. You're a lucky guy. Or you were. We're the lucky ones now."

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Bradford shouted suddenly. "Let me loose and I'll break your fucking neck!"

"Sure, but you aren't going to get loose. You're going to sit there and think about your wife and me, and your wife and Pete, and whenever we feel like it one of us is going to pat her on the ass, and she'll just trot along to the bedroom with us, obedient as a trained dog. A trained bitch, eh?"

Bradford opened his mouth to say something else, but he shut it again, so hard it made a clicking noise when his teeth came together. Max laughed. "You remember how she practically dragged Pete into the bedroom back there? Man, I thought she was going to fuck him right there on the kitchen floor." Bradford didn't even look at Max. He had gotten hold of himself, Max thought, and he was keeping it in. He was a man who knew how to use his emotions instead of wasting them. And that was a dangerous kind of man. Max decided to give him one last jab before he left.

"She not only fucks like a trooper, friend, she sucks like one, too. She ever suck your cock for you?" Bradford looked at him, and there was a kind of hooded, cobra look in his eyes that sent a chill down Max's spine.

"You just keep it up, friend. You just keep going. When I get my hands on you, finally. You're going to eat each one of these words separately."

Max managed to laugh again, although he didn't really feel much like it. "Don't go talking like a hero, buddy. We're not only going to fuck your wife all we want. We're also going to be the last men who ever fuck her. We'll be staying here a little longer. And when the heat lets tip enough, we'll be moving on. And when we do that, we're not going to leave anything alive on this farm except maybe a few chickens. Butch's corpse will be here, of course. And yours. And the corpses of maybe three pregnant women." Max gave him another grin. He pulled up the gag and stuffed it into Bradford's mouth again, then tied it up tight. He stood and looked down and winked. "I think maybe I'll give her a little reaming now. She got cut off in the middle of a good fucking when Connie shot Butch. He was in her then, from what I gather. She must feel frustrated. And her regular boy friend, Pete, is in the bedroom with Connie right now, having a ball. So I don't think he'll mind if I stick my prick in Julie-baby. Do you?"