Carl Van Marcus - The girlfriend_s revenge Volume Two

The sea wind rushed through the eaves of the large warehouse, sending draughts of humid air through the cracks in the windows and up the stairs into the rooms occupied by Cash and Ellen, the driver, Sylvia, and the German Shepherd.

Cash sat nervously silent. After his face had broken into a grin of relief at seeing Ellen captive, he had said simply, "Hi, Sylvia," out of the corner of his mouth and then gruffly but not cruelly grasped Ellen's elbow and led her back upstairs.

It was obvious that he was uncomfortable around the well-dressed middle aged man, who – in spite of the dimness – had put on a pair of sun glasses. The man's clothes, suave cleanliness, and unsmiling face made him look more menacing than any of the convicts. Feeling drained of hope and lifeless, Ellen sat wearily down at the small table, her shoulders slumped, and felt the return of sensation to her gravel-shredded bare feet. The pain seemed to radiate upward to her bruised and battered vagina; it throbbed in protest with each beat of her heart.

Sylvia stood with her hands on her hips and gazed around at the soiled mattresses and the litter on the floor. "Jeez, what a fucking dump," she said loudly and to no one in particular.

The driver had disdainfully pulled out a chair opposite Ellen, brushed crumbs off it, and sat down, holding his umbrella between his knee; the attache case he had been carrying was placed on the floor by his left foot. Ellen noted that he continued to wear his hat, raincoat, and driving gloves. He waited quietly, like a sleeping coiled snake, as if he had all the time in the world.

Ellen was sitting there, trying not to weep, when she saw the German Shepherd, Rex, suddenly perk his long ears forward. He rose, his tail wagging, and went to the head of the stairs. Then he barked loudly and began noisily scrambling down toward the landing.

The driver spun rapidly, his hand blurred as it came out of the raincoat pocket clutching a snub-nosed revolver. Ellen gasped as both Sylvia and Cash froze.

A second later, they all relaxed when Billy silently padded into the room followed by the dog. His hooded eyes took in Ellen first and, although he didn't speak to her, she sensed a surprisingly quiet gentleness in his movements which made her feel slightly more at ease.

His hand dropped to Rex's ears and he scratched the dog affectionately as he nodded toward the man who had been driving the car.

It was then that Sylvia, tall, dark-haired, and sensual-looking in spite of the fact that she was probably still a teenager, stood up with a look of obvious displeasure on her face. "Whatsa matter, Billy, don't you have any kisses for me, or have ya been saving them up for your Goddamn dog," she asked coarsely. When he didn't answer immediately, her eyes narrowed nastily, "Or maybe you been up so long that you've gotten used to those penitentiary fairies I hear so much about. Or maybe it's this blonde bitch here," she said, tossing her head contemptuously toward Ellen.

"Shut up, Sylvia," he said ominously.

"Don't tell me to shut up…" she began and her words were cut short in the middle of the sentence when Billy took two fast steps forward and viciously slapped her face; the force of the blow caused the girl to topple sideways and fall onto the mattress.

"Who is she," Sylvia spat out like an angry cat.

"That ain't none of your business." His attitude softened unexpectedly. "Besides, we wanted a little something to keep us company while we waited for you guys to show. We just might need her if things get tight with the fuzz."

Sylvia stood, obviously emboldened again by his softened tone of voice. She looked at the gang leader, then glared at Ellen across the length of the room. She was a tall, remarkably striking girl with jet black hair and large, ripely rounded breasts whose nipples appeared clearly beneath her tight, flimsy blouse. Her young face had an arrogance to it that emphasized an aggressive sexuality, and it was suddenly quite obvious to Ellen why Billy had been attracted to the woman: she was the perfect alter ego to the gang chief, whose every gesture reflected a primitive grace and animal sexuality.

The tall brunette nodded, then her lips curled in a sneer and her face flushed. "She says you all gang-banged her. Ya mean to say ya couldn't wait until I got here to get a little?"

Cash broke out with a loud guffaw, a laugh that was quickly smothered when he saw the murderous look on Billy's face. "Why should I wait for a slut like you?" he said quietly. "Did you wait? Or have the stories I've been hearing about you and 'Paddy' O'Hare been all lies?"

"Billy… honestly… I… I…" she began, and it was obvious from her expression that she was going to lie.

"Oh, shut up," he said contemptuously. "Just shut up."

The gang leader went back toward the doorway and rapidly flicked the light switch off and on three times. "Pop's out there at the turn-off," he said to Cash. "Anyone seen Vito?"

"I believe I almost ran over him," the well-dressed man said, not changing expression.

"It's too bad you didn't," Billy said. "It would have saved me the trouble of killing the son of a bitch."

A moment later, the sound of the pickup truck came from beneath the windows. This was followed by Pop's heavy foot-tred on the stairs. He, like all the others, looked relieved when he saw Ellen had been recaptured. "It's starting to rain," he said, as casual as if he were entering a barber shop for a haircut.

"You see Vito?" Billy asked.

Pop hesitated a second, then shrugged. "Yeh. I saw him cutting through the dunes coming in this direction." He looked back and forth between Ellen and Billy, then shrugged again as if he had decided to keep his thoughts to himself. His weathered face broke into a slight grin when he saw Sylvia, apparently for the first time. "Why… lookie who's come to visit! Hello, there… honey," he growled playfully.

Sylvia merely stared at him as if he were something that had crawled out of a sewer pipe, then turned her back on him.

Pop's face flushed in anger and his eyes narrowed. Ellen found herself shuddering at his look of hatred, and it was only then that she remembered her original opinion of the fat old man – that although he was not as sadistic as Vito, he was probably the most evil of all of the convicts in spite of his jolliness and friendly outgoing demeanor.

Less than a minute later, Rex moved restlessly away from Billy's side and growled low in his throat. The gang leader gave a hand signal and the dog went over to the corner and lay down.

Vito, looking white-faced and frightened, slunk into the room. His ferrety eyes blazed with murder as they swept over Ellen. "You fucking bitch," he said, and had taken one step toward the cringing young blonde when Billy's fist hit him on the side of the head. He literally flew through the air and bounced against the wall, where he slumped almost unconscious to the floor. Then, shaking his head to clear it, his eyes a cauldron of madness, he put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a switch blade knife which he flickered open. The seven inch blade leapt to life, ready to destroy.

Stone-faced, completely unconcerned, Billy pulled a revolver from his waist band and pulled back the trigger with a soft click. "Tell everyone goodbye, Vito."

Only then did the wiry little convict panic. "No… no, Billy. Don't…" he panted. "Look, I'm throwing away my knife. I didn't mean… I… NO…" The last was a scream as he saw his death warrant written on the gang leader's face. "NO!"

"No, Billy," a new voice came – a voice of authority, full of cold menace… sure of itself.

Billy spun around and found himself facing the barrel of the well-dressed man's gun.