The Beasts of Juarez by R.B. Schow (story books to read .txt) 📗

Atlas fired a second round, the bullet catching this scumbag just below the scapula. Santiago stopped moving but his hysteria was now accompanied by an onslaught of profanity.

Atlas grabbed his knife, cut the ropes binding Sydney’s arms and legs to the bed, and then he sheathed his blade and helped her up off the bed. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could find to hide her nudity so he just acted as if it was no big deal.

She sat up in bed, looked across the room at the dresser, and then gingerly stood and went to Atlas. She hugged him tight, which seemed very strange and rather mechanical.

He felt a slight pressure at his side, but by the time he looked down, she’d slipped his blade out of his sheath.

She locked eyes with him and said, “I need to borrow this.”

“Where are the girls?” he asked.

“Gone,” the woman replied. She walked over to Santiago who was moaning in pain. “Help me with him, please.”

“What are you doing?”

“Moving him.”

“Why?”

“Just help me, please,” she said.

She pulled him off the bed with her free hand then looked up at Atlas. This woman with butchered hair was more of a mess than he was. Looking like she’d taken multiple beatings over the last couple of days, her body was marred with bruising and lacerations, and she had a black eye and a swollen lip. Whatever she was doing now, Atlas was determined to help her.

When they pulled the pervert into the position she wanted, Sydney Fox walked up to the dresser where a camera had been filming them all along. She aimed the lens down at Santiago just as Atlas stepped back out of the frame.

She then turned and walked back to Santiago with purpose. The woman who was taking a pounding earlier was not the same woman Atlas was seeing now. This woman had somehow transformed. It was almost like all of hell had crowded into her body and it was now about to unleash itself upon the earth.

Kneeling down, Sydney touched the knife to Santiago’s side, leaning on it slowly and methodically. Then the skin popped and the knife slid into his side. The minute Santiago started to scream Sydney grabbed his dirty underwear off the floor and shoved it into his mouth, really stuffing it in there.

Atlas watched her with a sense of awe, of fascination. It wasn’t every day you witnessed the victim becoming a sadistic aggressor, and quite frankly, this was the kind of justice this cruel world needed.

She slid the knife out, wiped the blade across his face to clean it, then reached down and grabbed his parts. One dick, two balls, and a firm pull. Atlas knew what was coming next, and though he couldn’t watch, he felt like he needed to, like this was the journey intended for him.

Swiftly and without hesitation, Sydney see-sawed her way through his meat, taking all of it clean off. She tossed the bundle aside like garbage, then sat back and—without a word—looked right at him. Santiago was reduced to a shrieking, blubbering mess. His eyes were watery, his nose was snotty, and he now had bloody saliva strings hanging from his mouth. In between his legs, there was nothing but a deep red circle where his manhood used to be. It was gushing blood like a geyser.

When he had bled enough but wasn’t yet dead, Atlas helped Sydney up. Instead of going for clothes, she grabbed his dick and balls off the floor and threw them in his face, the effort so savage, she lost her balance and almost fell. Fortunately, Atlas caught her. When she could stand on her own again, it was to watch the last light wink out of Santiago’s eyes.

After that, Sydney thanked him, then turned and walked to the camera, shutting it off for good. She then headed for the master closet, presumably to find some clothes.

Kiera arrived only a moment later, saw the bloody mess, but did not see Sydney Fox.

“I found her,” he said. “The wife. Did you find the girls?”

Kiera shook her head, then looked back down at the man’s crotch and winced.

When Leopold rushed in and saw the carnage, he turned away and started to dry heave. By this time, Sydney emerged wearing a pair of Santiago’s sweats and a sweatshirt.

“Was that Santiago?” Leopold asked with a weak, anguished voice.

“Yeah,” Atlas said.

“We needed him alive,” Leopold growled.

“No we don’t,” Sydney Fox said. “There’s a private airport out by a cement plant just off Mexico 45, whatever that is.”

“That’s a highway,” Atlas said.

“We have to hurry,” Sydney said, unashamed and driven. “Santiago just arranged for my two youngest daughters to be taken out of the country.”

Parked in the garage with several exotic cars, they found Santiago’s S560 Mercedes-Benz and the keys on a nearby keyboard. Rather than run down to the Audi, they all piled into the Benz and drove down to where Cira was waiting in the Easter egg. Esty and Yergha got out of the Benz with Esty saying, “We’ll follow you in the Audi.”

“What about the Spark?” Cira asked.

“We’ll come back for it,” Leopold said. “The kids are heading to a plane that’s taking them out of the country. We need to go, now!”

Atlas was in the driver’s seat and needed no prompting. The second Leopold picked up his phone to call Codrin he stepped on the gas and roared out of there. They made it down the hill in record time.

When they reached the paved road, Atlas waited for the Audi to catch up, and then he took off like a bat out of hell heading toward the private runway’s remote location.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

SCOTTY CHASE

With no immediate flights available, the trip to Queens in their rental car went