Peter Jenkins - Drugged into sin

"I won't see him anymore if that's the way you want it, but please don't kill him. If you do, I swear that somehow, some way, I'll get even with you. I'll have the cops down on you so fast it will make your head spin!" she bravely threatened, knowing full well it was hopeless.

He glared at her coldly and said, "You stupid bitch. Do you think that you can bargain with me? Nobody, but nobody bargains with me, I give the orders and I can do what I please!"

She tried to out-stare his cruel beady, eyes, but she was frightened and didn't know quite what she should do.

"Hurry up," he commanded her. "Don't just stand there like a dummy. Get dressed or do you want a good thrashing, and you know I can do it… with pleasure."

Mechanically she obeyed him and followed him out of the room and down the stairs to the car that was waiting to take her to Connecticut.

Jimmy had not heard a word from Christine the whole next day and she wasn't at the house when he went looking for her and no one seemed too anxious to volunteer any information, so he went back to his hotel room and waited for George to come by to pick him up for the evening's job.

The palms of his hands were damp when George finally called upstairs on the house phone for him to come down, that they were ready to go. He remembered Chris' apprehension the previous day and he wondered if maybe she had been right. He knew that she should have contacted him that afternoon and he was certain that something had happened to her.

When the car finally pulled into the hideout, he asked Price where Chris had gone.

"She is taking a little rest in the country. She decided that she needed a vacation in order to do some serious thinking, maybe about your relationship. You know that you have been occupying a lot of her time and she hasn't had much time to work… for me! And, I don't like that," he growled at him.

Jimmy was still uncertain about what he was supposed to do when they got to the docks, nobody had briefed him like they had the last time and he didn't like it. He wondered if maybe Price had found out that he and Christine had planned to get away. Maybe that was why she was unavailable and he had a queasy feeling in his stomach. They wouldn't try to get rid of him, would they? A myriad of thoughts ran through his mind and he became more uneasy as each new and sordid idea raced through his worried mind. He followed the van in front of him just like the last time and pulled up behind it when they reached the dark warehouse.

"We're all going in this time," he shouted to him. "It's heavy work and we need every hand we can get!"

This was unusual because someone had to be there to get the car and the loot out of danger in case someone came. It didn't make any sense that they would leave the car and the van unattended.

He climbed out of the car, his knees were shaking, but he hoped that no one else could see his fear. He couldn't let his fears, which may be imagined, get the best of him. In any case, he decided to keep a very close watch on Price and not get left alone with him.

George was picking the lock on the warehouse and within a few minutes the heavy steel doors swung open.

"Quick, everyone inside," Price ordered.

As the gang moved through the door, he saw Price's hand move to his pocket and his heart felt like it was down in his stomach.

The men had just begun to move the crates out of the door into the van when all of a sudden the lights went on all over the warehouse and a voice shouted, "Okay, everyone stay right where they are. You're all under arrest!"

Price's hand came out of his pocket and there was a glint of steel and he heard a gasp coming from somewhere behind one of the lights. He jumped forward in an effort to see what had happened, but the night watchman that had surprised them was already lying dead on the cement floor of the warehouse, a knife sticking out of his chest.

It had all happened so quickly that Jimmy hardly realized what was going on, and as he looked around the group he could see that he was not the only one that was visibly shaken. The group began to break and hide behind various crates around the warehouse and waited there for several minutes. When no one else came to bother them Price ordered the men to continue their work.

Jimmy could not help but wonder whether that knife had been meant for him, and as he moved to help one of the men with a heavy crate, he asked, "Is he dead?"

"Never mind about that, it's too late now anyway. Let's just get this stuff loaded and get out of here," Price shouted.

The men loaded the van and the car and everyone hopped in to take off and go back to the hideout. When they reached the gate where they had come in, all of a sudden lights went on all over the place and Price yelled, "Narks! Christ, we're surrounded!" Jimmy floored the accelerator and headed straight for the gate while Price drew out a gun from another pocket and began to shoot.

"Run them over if you have to," he commanded. "Just get us out of here or we'll all burn!"

He hesitated for just a second and then raced the engine and the car shot through the gate, and he could feel a thud as he passed by and he knew that he had probably hit one of the policemen. The lights were blazing throughout the dock yard, but the car now sped down the dark street and turned down a narrow alleyway that Price directed him to.

"I'm sure I hit one of them," he stammered as he spoke to Price.

"Well, what did you expect, they wouldn't get out of the way. We couldn't exactly stop and ask them to move! Don't worry about it, kid, we're in deep enough without sweating something like that!"

He couldn't believe that Price could be so callused, and his hands were still shaking on the wheel. They were winding dangerously through the narrow streets when suddenly Price turned to him and put a gun at the side of his neck.

"What's this?" he asked shakily, because he was sure that he already knew what it meant.

"It's just a little reminder that we have Christine and if you ever say anything about our operation or try to leave town, she won't be treated exactly with kid gloves. You get what I mean," he barked.

It was all he could do to keep his hands on the wheel, they were shaking so badly, but he knew that if he didn't get them away from there he would be killed, or worse yet, they would torture or kill Chris.

The car tore down another alleyway and finally pulled up in front of the hideout and the men piled out and ran in.

"Put the car in the garage," he ordered Jimmy.

He was tempted to take the car and make a run for it, but he realized that it would be entirely too easy to trace him and then what would happen to him and to Chris. His thoughts drifted to Chris and he wondered what she was going through right now. He knew that she would be worried and he wished that he could call her and let her know that he had gotten back all right. At least up to this point, it looked as if everything was going to be all right.

Christine was being held in the house in Connecticut with one bruiser of a body guard. She had wanted to call the police and tell them about the raid on the dock, but her guard's eyes never left her for a second. She was wearing a rather tight fitting summer dress which did nothing to conceal her full, round bosom and shapely legs and buttocks.

She glared at the man who was guarding her and asked, "What is your name, anyway. I hate to keep saying, hey you?"

"Robert," the ox of a man replied and it was obvious that he was rather dull-minded, and she felt uneasy at the way he was staring at her.

"You Price's girl?" he asked in the thick guttural accent of the Eastside.

"No," she replied hesitantly.

"Then why does he want to keep you here all by yourself, anyway," he inquired.