Читать книгу Hot Sex Stories Made Easy - Speedy Publishing - Страница 45

Chapter Six

“I know you’re in there, Carson!” Crazy Mack shouted from the yard in front of the large, two-story main house on Carson Hill Ranch. “Get your ass out here and face me!”

Another shot rang out, taking another one of the large windows with it. Mack was up to four windows so far, blasting out each of them one at a time in his rage. Anders had called the sheriff after the first shot tore through a ground floor window but even by helicopter, the police were still a good twenty minutes away.

“What does he want?” the kitchen staff’s lead assistant asked from where they were crouched in the oversized, windowless kitchen where Anders had herded them all to safety. Even for someone so young, he’d been smart enough to order them all into the large room and down on the floor when the first window was taken out. They were all too happy to comply, especially with the shouting coming from outside the house.

“I can’t be sure, in his state of mind,” Anders began. “but I’m willing to bet that it has something to do with his two hookers going missing and showing up here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Please don’t call them that,” one of the housekeepers said sternly, looking at Anders reproachfully.

“That’s what they are,” he argued defensively. “They said so themselves.”

“It doesn’t matter, we still don’t call them that. First of all, there are more polite terms than ‘hooker’,” she reprimanded, making a screwed up face as she spit out that word. “but it’s just not necessary to refer to them that way. You can’t know what those poor girls have been through, practically being held prisoner by that man and being forced to...”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Anders muttered. “That wasn’t polite. His two girls, then. I mean, the girls, not his girls.” Everyone nodded thoughtfully, remembering how sickly and abused the two girls had looked when they showed up on the porch, refusing to come inside as they waited as though they knew they weren’t clean enough or good enough.

The girls in question, Emma and Dee, had snuck out of Mack’s bar and walked all the way from Hale, over an hour away by car, just to warn Casey and Miranda that her violent ex-boyfriend had tracked her down in Texas. When Mack discovered his two sources of additional income missing, word got back to him that the pair were holed up somewhere on the Carson’s property. At that moment, they were hidden safely in a cabin to the east, struggling against the addiction that had kept them chained to him, with the help of a retired counselor Bernard had sent to stay with them.

The sound of a loud bang followed by tinkling glass let them know that Crazy Mack was living up to his moniker by shooting out another of the first floor windows.

“Where is Sheriff Matthews?” One of the kitchen workers cried softly, putting her hands over her ears and closing her eyes. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?” The older housekeeper put her arm around the younger woman, shushing her soothingly and rocking slowly.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get here soon and handle this,” Anders promised her. He calculated the situation, then said, “Crazy Mack hasn’t come inside because he doesn’t know how many of us are still here. That’s why he’s standing in the yard, playing tough guy with that gun. He knows almost everyone is on the drive, including Dad. That’s why he hasn’t tried to come in. If he were to come inside, he knows that any of the six of us boys could still be here.”

“Then what’s he doing? What’s the point of this?” The housekeeper demanded pleadingly as another window took a hit. She threw her hands over her ears and closed her eyes tightly.

“He’s just showing his muscle, trying to frighten the…girls…because he thinks they’re here. Plus, he knows we’ll let Dad know about this, and maybe get him to head home. Everyone in town knows the drive was started, and everyone also knows Dad never misses it. Mack is just putting on a show and making himself feel better. He has to feel like he did something about this.”

Within minutes, Anders held a finger to his lips to caution the seven of them not to make a sound. He heard a sound in the distance, growing louder as it came closer. Finally, the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air rhythmically caused him to smile.

“See? The sheriff is here so this’ll be cleared up soon. Nothing to worry about.” Anders strained to listen for any noise, but couldn’t hear anything from within the interior, other than the sound of frightened people struggling to breathe quietly.

When a knock finally sounded on the front door, no one moved. It wasn’t until the visitor announced his presence as part of the sheriff’s department that they felt safe enough to come out of hiding, walking slowly together in a huddle toward the door, stepping over broken glass as they walked.

When Anders reached a hand out towards the doorknob, the elderly head housekeeper moved to stop him. “You might be the only Carson and the only male around, but I’m still the oldest and I’m responsible for you. I could never forgive myself if I let your mother down by letting something happen to you. Now, step back, young man.” She pushed Anders lightly, nodding when Amanda threw an arm around his young shoulders. The housekeeper silently counted to three while she watched the scared faces of the others, then opened the door a crack. She threw it open wide when she saw the deputy, barely older than Anders, pulling him inside and grabbing him in a bear hug.

“Thank God you’re finally here! He’s a lunatic!” She cried, pointing to the living room floor and the windows. “Look at what he’s done!” The deputy nodded and began writing things in a small black notebook, shaking his head when all of the staff began talking at once.

“Where’s the sheriff?” Amanda asked, looking over the deputy’s shoulder like that would explain his absence. “Crazy Mack comes out here shooting at us, and Matthews sends a kid to save us?”

The deputy wasn’t even old enough to be offended by the remark. He began trying to explain that the sheriff was going to take the helicopter and try to locate the shooter, and that the deputy would spend the night out there with them.

“I’ll be outside, walking patrol around the place. Don’t worry, we’re going to take good care of you,” he assured them, but the expressions on their faces said they clearly didn’t feel all that protected. They looked at each other, the housekeeper grumbling about how they’d need to stay in the kitchen because they only had Deputy Diaper Pants to protect them. That remark finally hit home, causing the young officer to blush a beet red. They turned away and went back in the kitchen to spend a sleepless night on its cold floor.