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she needed two hands for the jeans. She set the pistol on the counter by the sink, within easy reach.
    Stupid, she thought as she fumbled with her pants. This is just the moment he’ll choose to bust the door in. But she heard nothing. Only a car speeding along, somewhere far away. If he’d just hold off for a few seconds, she would be dressed and ready for him. She had to be dressed.
    She was bent over, balanced on one leg, her other foot high and pushing into the jeans, when she felt fingers clutch her ankle and jerk it out from under her.
    She hit the floor.
    Rough hands jerked her pants off. She tried to scramble up, but the weight of a man drove her against the floor, forced her legs apart. Her blouse was ripped off her back. Then he was lying on her, pinning her arms to the floor. She felt his hardness against her rump.
    “Scream, cunt, and I’ll rip off your head.”
    She pressed her face to the rug. She cried, she whimpered with pain, she bit her lips until she tasted their blood, but she didn’t scream. At some point, with the man grunting and thrusting in the darkness above her, Lacey passed out.

CHAPTER SIX
    Dukane landed his Cessna Bonanza, that night, at Santa Monica airport. He stepped into the passenger cabin.
    Alice smiled at him. “Hello, dead man.”
    “Pleasant flight?” he asked.
    “Very nice. I spent it thinking about what they’ll do to you.”
    “Nothing too drastic, I hope.” He bent down and unlocked the cuffs chaining her left wrist to the seat’s armrest.
    “You messed with Laveda, man. You’re good as dead.”
    “
Better
than dead, at the moment.”
    “Sure, joke. You’ll be laughing outa the other side of your face when they catch up with you. And they will. And I’ll be with’em, you can count on it. I’ll be the one with the knife, cutting out your eyes.”
    “Such talk,” he said.
    “You can’t hide from us. We’re everywhere. We know all. We’re all powerful.”
    “Yep. Okay, stand up.” He backed away. Alice stepped into the aisle. She looked good in the yellow sundress—fresh, and even younger than hernineteen years. Dukane had bought it at a Penny’s in Houma, leaving Alice drugged in the passenger seat of his rented car. After buying the dress, he drove to a deserted stretch of road. He braced her against the side of the car, stripped off the oversized shirt he’d earlier used to clothe her, and wrestled her limp body into the dress.
    “Are we getting outa this plane, or you just gonna stare at me all night?”
    “We need to make a decision. I can either take you out of here handcuffed, as a prisoner, or you can agree to cooperate and we’ll go to my car like friends. Which do you prefer?” “You don’t need the cuffs.” “If you try to get away, you’ll be hurt.” “I know, I know. You proved that back in the bayou, didn’t you? Well, I’ll tell you something. I don’t have to get away from you. They’ll come for me. Wherever you take me, they’ll come. I don’t have to lift a finger—just wait and use my powers to call them.”
    “Fancy car,” Alice said as Dukane climbed into the Jaguar beside her. “Kidnapping must pay good.”
    “Yep.” The car grumbled to life.
    “How much did my folks pay you?”
    “Enough.”
    “Enough to die for?”
    “That’s not in my plans.”
    “It’s in mine. They’ll have to die, too. Can’t go messing with Laveda.”
    “You’re a sweetheart,” Dukane said. He backed out of the parking space, and headed for the exit.
    “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, man.”
    “I know. You’re all powerful. You’ve drunk at the river.”
    “Fuckin’ right.”
    “Imagine. All that from drinking a gal’s blood.”
    “The blood is the life.”
    “Where’ve I heard that before,” he said, and switched the radio on. He turned left onto Ocean Park Blvd.
    “This isn’t the way home.”
    “I’m not taking you home. You’ve got a date with a certain Dr. T. R. Miles. He specializes in