A Young Desert Rose, Chapter 16

  • Posted on July 12, 2021 at 2:07 pm

By Sunnybunny

Travis Lawrence was speaking, but his words were lost to Heather. Even with the gun aimed at her head, her attention was completely absorbed by the pair of Angie’s panties that lay on the floor between them. The room felt vast, gulf-like, with both parties standing on opposing sides of a crevasse. What lay between them was just as dangerous, just as damning as the gun in Travis’s hand.

It wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to figure out what a pair of a preteen girl’s dirty underwear beneath her pillow meant, and Heather cursed herself for accepting the gift in the first place. It was foolish, indulgent of her. Was it really worth it all to have Angie’s panties to clutch to her face as she masturbated?

Travis’s voice cracked through the room like thunder, like a lightning strike. “Hey! Eyes up here!” He coaxed her to meet his gaze with a waggle of the barrel of the gun in a sharp upward motion. He held it sideways, like a gangster in a bad action movie. Probably thinking he looked much cooler than he actually did. Just another blowhard on a weapon-fueled ego trip who clearly got off on power and intimidation. She couldn’t see it, but instinct told her that Travis had an erection, invisible beneath layers of bulky clothing and pot belly. Heather knew she had to tread carefully, not only for her sake, but poor Angie’s too.

“Bet you got lots of questions,” he remarked, tapping a finger to his nose. it was a knowing gesture, and his eyes dazzled with the chance to boast about his detective work. “I knew somethin’ was up when Angie kept nosin’ around here. Like a stray mutt. You feed it once and ‘fore long it’s always around, beggin’ for scraps.” He gave a bark of laughter at that, accompanied by a rough squeeze around his daughter’s throat that was anything but fatherly. She grunted, coughed once through gritted teeth. Angie was livid, twisting her gaze up at Travis in an effort to burn holes through the back of his head. He ignored her.

Travis’s laughter turned into a coughing, wheezing fit so violent that, by the time it subsided, he was red faced and shimmering with sweat. Heather pleaded with the fates to smite him with a heart attack, but it was not to be.

Gradually, he twisted his wide body back into an upright posture, dragging Angie along for the ride. He cleared his throat one last time and continued, through lips bubbling with phlegm. “I only sent her over here to scout out your car, see if you had anything worth, ahh, investigatin’, y’know what I mean?” The last five words all ran together in his mouth. “But she don’t stop there, see. She keeps figgerin’ new reasons to find herself comin’ by here. And then she starts hangin’ round the diner after you started workin’ there. So I asked her what was up, worryin’ that maybe you’re onto my little ruse… but she clammed up tighter’n an oyster. That’s when I figgered my little girlie was lyin’ to me.”

Heather listened along, or at least pretended to. She was looking for some sort of opening. Surely there had to be a way of disarming this piece of human wreckage. One well-placed kick between his legs would put Travis down for the count. He looked to be a year or two away from serious cardiac arrest, so maybe she wouldn’t even have to do that much. A good shove might be enough to send him careening into the bathroom, landing on the tiled floor like a turtle on its back. From there she could seize Angie and bolt. Screw the clothes, screw everything in this town. The jaws were closing around her throat. Heather had lingered too long here, and was on the verge of paying for it, possibly with her life.

Travis droned on. “Then the other day, she calls me up and lets me know she’s sleepin’ over at her friend Mallory’s place. Real last minute-like. That gets me suspicious so I wait awhile and phone up Mallory’s mom. Y’know what she tells me?” His voice rises an octave. “Hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Angie all damn afternoon, an’ don’t know nothin’ about no sleepover!” Travis glared down at his daughter, as if she’d just entered the room covered in filth. “Just like her mama was. She was a lyin’ bitch whore herself!”

There it was. Laid plain for all to bear witness, even if Travis Lawrence didn’t realize it himself. The loss of his wife to another man had warped him, made him unstable and suspicious, hungry for revenge… and it seemed as if everyone in town acknowledged just how much Angie looked like her mother at that age.

“She set off again tonight, and I knew she was comin’ to see you. Just lyin’ and lyin’ and lyin’ to me. No different at all, no better. Little lyin’ cunt.” Travis dragged his knuckles across his chin, a far off look in his eyes that made it clear that he was miles away inside.

It was only when Heather took a cautious step to one side that he was jerked back to reality. The gun snapped back into place. Heather froze. This close, he wouldn’t even need to be accurate.

“I seen you two ride off to God knows where, and I get to thinkin’… I got to find out what’s the deal with this new girl, rollin’ into town like a dust devil to steal so much of my kid’s attention. Everyone talkin’ about this hot little number over at the motel till I get sick to my stomach. So I let myself in… and lookee at what I found!” His gaze dropped to the floor, to the pair of panties at their feet. “I start puttin’ two and two together, see.” He taps the gun against his forehead, as if to indicate everything adding up to four.

His voice took on a menacing edge that left no room for debate. Heather suspected that Angie knew it well. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You gonna pack up your shit, and move into my house. The story is that you an’ me just fell head over heels. Love at first sight. Reeeeal romantic.” His tongue darted out of his mouth, slithering over liver lips, his eyes shining with excitement. He was imagining it now. Having the prettiest wife in town again, only with the leverage to keep her in check.

“Otherwise, well…” He indicated Angie’s panties with the barrel of his gun, “I’ll just take my little girl’s underpants down to the sheriff’s station an’ let you sort it all out with him.”

Right away, Heather understood that this so-called evidence was flimsy at best. If the sheriff were to barge in on them right then, he’d surely have more questions about the gun than the underwear. It would be Travis’ word against hers, with Angie caught in the middle. Yet no matter how well Heather had assimilated herself into the town, she was still a new arrival, her history unknown — an outsider in a small, tight-knit community that was likely to take the word of the mechanic who had lived in Oasis all his life over that of the mysterious young woman who used to work part-time at the restaurant.

Travis’ accusation would be enough to get the whole town talking, which surely would lead to closer scrutiny of Heather and her past. If enough noise got made about her relationship with Angie, it would be like lighting a beacon that signaled Heather’s exact coordinates to her very dangerous, very angry ex-husband. Once he found her, there would be no safe place left for her. She would be out of options, nowhere to hide or flee to. The end of her rope.

Heather’s stomach turned. The potential future she’d envisioned with Angie now seemed like an idiotic dream, overtaken by a living hell as the plaything of this disgusting man. Hell, worse than a plaything. The thought of coupling with Travis was enough to make her physically ill. Bile rose in her throat, burning the back of her tongue until she was forced to cup a hand over her mouth, swallowing hard.

This couldn’t be happening. How could her world be going so hideously wrong? Was this karma? Heather was no saint, but what Travis Lawrence was proposing was a fate worse than a death. Suddenly the idea of rushing the man and taking her chances with his gun didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

But where would that leave Angie? If Heather died at the hand of Travis, what was left for the girl? She’d be utterly alone, not a soul to protect her from Daddy’s abuse. Could she really abandon Angie to such a fate?

Something must have shown in her eyes, because Travis’ gleeful smile instantly soured. “Don’t think about it!” he snarled. He lowered the gun, angling it over the swell of his belly to aim it into Angie’s face. The child winced, trying and failing to escape his grip as the barrel twisted against her nose. “You think I won’t kill her too, just ‘cause she’s my kid? You best think again.” He gave a snort of laughter. “Shit, I’d do it just to make you cry.” He glared down at his daughter. “Little bitch ain’t worth–”

“Don’t!” Heather cried.

Travis diverted his attention back to the older woman with a smug, satisfied look on his face. She’d reacted just as he’d hoped and it made her loathe him all the more. What sort of monster would use the threat of murdering a child — his own child — just to get a reaction? Heather’s disgust was transforming into unbridled hatred. It felt better, more satisfying, but just as useless. The fat man still had a gun, and if he didn’t shoot Heather, he would kill Angie instead. She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“You made your point, damn it,” she said. “Now let her go.”

His mouth gave an ugly twist. “Now why would I go and do a dumbass thing like–”

A knock at the door froze the trio in place. It was soft, echoing from the short hallway, almost apologetic. Heather immediately thought of Walter with a mixture of relief and horror. No doubt he’d overheard the commotion and had come to investigate. He would be just on the other side of the door in his pajamas and slippers, hoping he wasn’t disturbing her so late at night, but Oh my word, there was so much shouting. I just had to make sure you were okay. 

She wanted to believe that salvation was at hand, but feared for his safety. Travis Lawrence had already come this far… was it such a stretch to believe one old man could stand in the way of his sick fantasies?

Travis swore under his breath, eyes darting around the room anxiously and, finding no solutions plastered to the walls, swore again. His mind was clearly racing, weighing too many options for his mind to fathom all at once. Worse, time was against him and he would have to decide soon before Walter fished the master key out of the pockets of his robe and let himself in.

Another knock came, echoing outward. It might have been her imagination, but it sounded more insistent this time, a touch louder. Travis noticed it, too. He paced a tight circle, Angie’s feet tangling together with his, the child nearly falling. He hitched her back up, twisting his arm painfully into her throat. She might have cried out if she could get any air.

This was going to end badly unless she did something. She had to warn Walter somehow before he walked into a trap. Perhaps he would even hurry to a phone and call for help. A cry rose up in Heather’s throat, the words formulated in her mind and took shape in her mouth. She would scream Watch out, Travis Lawrence is here with a gun. Get help! Go! Run!

She took in a big gulp of air, only to have it driven out of her lungs when Angie was roughly shoved into her.

They seized one another at once, Heather sinking down to kneel next to the girl

“Keep quiet,” he warned and stalked down the hallway, vanishing from sight.

Cowering together, they heard the locks release and the door swung open. Travis’s gruff demand of “Yeah? What?” hearkened back to them.

There was no answer. Instead, the dull crack of what could only have been a gunshot rang out, amplified by the tight quarters of the room. Angie gave a muffled scream against Heather, her face buried in the crook of the woman’s shoulder.

The son of a bitch killed Walter, she realized in horror.

Heaven help them. Travis truly had lost his goddamned mind and was willing to murder anyone who stood in his way. What would he do to them once he discovered the money was missing from its hiding place in the trailer and stashed in her trunk? He would know they planned to run then, and…

Travis returned, coming around the corner in a dazed stagger. Angie screamed again, and this time Heather heard it loud and clear. A cherry-red flower had bloomed in the middle of the fat man’s chest. Both his hands were cradling it protectively, but it was no use… the petals were falling away, covering his fingers, his wrists and flowing down his arms. The droplets fell heavy and fast, pattering on the floor at his feet until Heather realized that she was seeing a mortal wound of a dying man.

Then she was screaming too.

The gun dropped out of his hands onto the floor where his shuffling feet kicked it away, within Heather’s reach, but she was too terrified to move or make a grab for it. Helpless, she watched as Travis collapsed against the bathroom door in a futile try for balance, sending it back against the wall with a bang. The knob left a deep imprint in the drywall.

Flecks of red froth ringed Travis’ mouth. Still he fought on, struggling to breathe. His bloody fingers slapped at his throat, tore at the collar of his shirt. Each wheeze sent another surge of crimson gushing from the wound. Travis dropped heavily to his knees, staring at Heather. His expression was perplexed, as if he was trying to remember something. Then the man’s eyes glazed over, and he slowly tilted sideways, collapsing to the carpet with a dull thud.

A brief eternity later, Travis Lawrence took his last breath.

The man responsible for his death suddenly filled the hallway, towering so tall that his bald head threatened to graze the tiles overhead. His features were fierce, set into a tight scowl that made his thick eyebrows and goatee seem almost demonic, a resurrected Anton LaVey summoned forth to end a man’s life. He was dressed in a thick wool sweater and slacks that fit snugly around a muscular frame. Unlike Travis, he held the silenced pistol expertly, in a two-handed grip, entering the room like he was leading a SWAT team.

Ignoring Heather and Angie, the man advanced toward the body to study it, remaining tense until he could confirm that Travis was dead. Satisfied, he went back to the hall and waved an unseen party into the room.

Another enforcer-type filed in, not visibly armed but dressed in similar garb. His sleeves were rolled up to show off a set of bulging forearms, plastered with tattoos. He too avoided the girls’ searching gaze and joined his cohort in securing the small space. A quick glance in the bathroom and a look under the bed was enough for the tattooed man to cry out “Clear!”

“Heather?” Angie, at her side, was whispering. “Who is…?”

Her question was answered in the form of a third and final character entering the room.

There you are, you wascawwy wabbit!” the man drawled, doing his best Elmer Fudd impression, as he drifted across the room on leather moccasins. His arms were held aloft, palms up and fingers splayed, as if to announce his entrance without having to abandon the funny voice.

Richard Valentine always did have a taste for theatrics. Why would now be the exception?

He sauntered to the middle of the room, taking center stage beneath the cluster of bulbs overhead as if it was a spotlight. As ever, he was dressed to the nines, his chinos rolled up to reveal a hint of bare ankle. His button-down shirt was silk, emblazoned with Chinese dragons, worn untucked and only partially buttoned for a bit of devil-may-care flair. Richard’s wavy brown hair was combed back, away from his face. His features were freshly lifted, giving him a striking appearance that bordered on the severe. When he smiled, he flashed a set of golden plating he’d had custom made.

With a flourish, Richard removed his sunglasses and rested them on his forehead, smiling down at the duo. He crouched down low, resting both elbows on his bent knees, meeting Heather eye-to-eye. “I said I would find you, Princess,” he murmured. There was no malice in his voice. No triumph or hint of gloating, a stark contrast to Travis Lawrence. Richard seemed amused in a way that reminded her of children’s games on the playground. Hide and seek. Now-tag, you’re it!

He steepled his hands together carefully, tucking the point of his fingers beneath his chin and looking pensive. “Now, in the interest of time, I’m going to tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to ask who that fat fuck is, er, was. I’m not going to ask who she is.” He shifted his gaze to Angie, flashing a gleaming smile at the girl, waving to her with his index finger. “I’m not even going to ask what a pair of little girl’s used panties is doing here on the floor.” His goons glanced over at this, curiosity chiseling away at their hard features, but Richard took no notice. “The only thing I want to know, Princess,” his voice turning ice cold in an instant, “is where my goddamned motherfucking money is.”

Heather stared defiantly into the man’s eyes. Her mouth was a tight crease, making it perfectly clear that she wouldn’t be sharing this information willingly. The sight made Richard sigh and drop his gaze, showing the first signs of frustration.

He idly reached down to pick up Angie’s panties with two of his fingers, lifting them to his nose and giving them an examining sniff. What tickled at his nostrils made the man smile. Carefully folding them up, he tucked the child’s underwear into the front of his dress shirt like a pocket handkerchief.

“Curtis.” His unwavering gaze locked with Heather’s, Richard held a hand out, beckoning. At once, the bald thug stepped forward and pressed his automatic into his boss’s palm. Richard aimed it at Heather. “As you can imagine, we’re somewhat pressed for time here, Princess. Now, are you going to be a good girl and come clean willingly, or…” The long barrel of the silencer slowly drifted from Heather to Angie, who recoiled in fright, nearly going cross-eyed trying to focus on the weapon at such close range. He winked playfully at her over the top of the weapon. “Strictly business, kiddo. Please don’t take offense.”

To Heather again, he said, “Either way, you’re coming home, Princess. But don’t think I won’t add one more body to the count. Not if it means getting back what you fucking stole from me.”

“It’s at the diner!” Angie cried.

Richard arched an eyebrow. “Diner? What diner?”

“Angie, what are you doing?” Heather hissed, glancing down at the girl in her arms. “You can’t trust him, no matter what he tells you! He’ll just take what he wants, then–!”

The butt of the gun connected to the side of her head, just hard enough to hurt. Heather fell silent.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said, all smiles again, and focused his attention on the girl with renewed interest. “What’s this about a diner?”

“Saw a diner comin’ in, boss,” the goon called Curtis confirmed. “Just across the way.” He even pointed.

Angie hurriedly nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the automatic pointed at her face. “We hid it there. It’s closed down now, so nobody would…would find it!”

A beat passed. Then another and another, until it had stretched into nearly a minute.

“Boss?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking!” he snapped, then sighed heavily, making a decision. He yanked the gun out of Angie’s face, lowering himself down until they were nose to nose. “Okay, rug rat. Take us to this diner, show me where my money is hidden. No funny business, now. I find out you’re telling stories to me…” He casually pointed the gun in the direction of Travis’ corpse, still sprawled out on the floor.

Angie stared at the body of her father, her expression perfectly blank. She only looked back up at Richard when he snapped his fingers beneath her chin.

“Looks like you get the idea,” he said with a brusque nod. “Now move.”

On to Chapter Seventeen!

 

10 Comments on A Young Desert Rose, Chapter 16

  1. Erocritique says:

    .
    Better than great. Every chapter is so perfectly descriptive that I feel like I’m watching a movie. Anyone who is reaaaaally into this story will have suspected that it was Richard at the door. The foreshadowing in previous chapters indicated that he was closing in on Heathers location. The “out of the frying pan and into the fire” phrase comes to mind with Richards timely / untimely arrival. Angie’s dad got better than he deserved after his sick game playing, but now the odds of Heather and Angie safely escaping are infinitely lower. Hopefully the vigilant sheriff and the other townsfolk have noticed the arrival of the three sinister strangers. I cannot wait for the next chapter. This is a JS classic. Thank You Sunnybunny

  2. Swan says:

    I too am enjoying this story immensely. Hope the wait is not too long for the next exciting chapter!

  3. Navarre says:

    Nothing but superb story telling.

  4. David says:

    Great chapter Sunnybunny, loved the description and detail as the story evolved. Like the new twist that is ahead for Heather and Angie and looking forward to how they will get away from Richard and his goons. Can’t wait for chapter seventeen.

  5. kim says:

    We too had a feeling who was at the door. Knew the scum would show up sooner or later. We give an excellent to this chapter just like all the others.

    We are thankful for the relatively short wait, and eager as all get out for chap 17.

    Great suspense, and well written as always SunnyBunny.

    Kim & Sue

  6. Purple Les says:

    Excellent chapter. Can not wait to see what happens.

  7. Sunnybunny says:

    Flattered and humbled by the love this little tale still gets :3
    I can’t tell you all enough how much I appreciate your continued patience while I wrap up the last two (!) chapters to this little tale of love and mystery. You will all be reading the (hopefully!) thrilling climax very soon~

    -hugs to all-

  8. Natasha says:

    Absolutely love Desert Rose character, I think I even have a photo of little Angie darling… May I send it to you?

  9. Mark says:

    An excellent story it would make a great movie, without the obvious.
    I can’t wait for the next chapter.

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