"So where are you taking me?" I said, and Van put his arm around me.
"Me and Johnny might appreciate a little alone time with you," Van said, his free hand lodging itself under my skirt. "You looking so fine and all."
"I wonder what you were in jail for," I said. "Gee, let me guess."
The woman looked back at me, and our eyes met. "You going to put up with that?" she asked Plump. Thus goaded, Plump grabbed Van's wrist and pulled his hand away from my crotch.
"You said you wouldn't do this again," she growled, and I mean growled. "I'm your woman now. No more."
"Course you're mine, but that doesn't mean I don't want to cleanse my palate with a little country-fried steak," Van said.
"Charming," I said, which was unfortunate, because Van punched me and I saw bright lights for a second. You don't want to get hit by a werewolf. Really.
I had to keep from gagging from the pain, but I resolved that if I threw up I was going to do it all over Van.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, squeezed it until I could feel the bones rubbing together. This time, I had to cry out, and he liked that. I could feel the pleasure radiating out from him.
Help, I thought. Can anyone hear me?
No answer. I wondered where Mr. Cataliades was. I wondered where his great-great-grandson, whom I'd always called Barry Bellboy, was. Too far away in Texas to hear my mental voice ...
I wondered if I'd see tomorrow. I had planned on it being a happy day for me, a special day.
At least Van seemed to be taking Plump's hostility seriously now, and he quit hurting me. Dealing out pain to me excited her jealousy just as much as him feeling me up. Unhealthy. Not that it was my problem, not that it would make any difference after we got wherever we were going. I'd picked up on a stray thought or two. I was beginning to get the bigger picture. It had a big skull and crossbones right in the middle.
The traffic was fairly heavy, but I knew what would happen to me if I signaled another car. I knew, too, what would happen to the people in that car. Not a single police car in the stream of traffic ... not a one. We were on the interstate going east, back toward Bon Temps. There were a dozen exits, and when we left the interstate, none of them would have this much traffic. Once we got into the woods, I'd be doomed.
Well, I had to do something.
Just as a motorcycle began passing the car, I attacked Van. He'd been thinking about something entirely different, something involving the plump girl, so my sudden twist and lunge was a huge shock. I tried to grasp his neck, but my fingers wouldn't meet around it, and I had a hank of his hair bundled into my grip. He yelled and his hands shot up to grip mine. I dug my thumbs in ferociously, and Airman turned to glance back. Glass shattered and as I closed my eyes I saw a fine mist of red. Someone had shot Airman in the shoulder.
We were at a level spot on the interstate, thank God. As we abruptly swerved off the pavement, the quiet woman in the front seat reached over and switched the car off. Remarkable presence of mind, I thought in a daze, and we began gliding to a stop. Plump was screaming, Van was beating the shit out of me, and there was blood all over everything. The smell triggered the wolf in them, and they began to change. If I didn't get out of the car, I was going to get bitten, and then I'd qualify to be a pack member myself.
As I struggled with Van in a vain attempt to reach the door handle, that door flew open and a black-gloved hand reached in to grab mine. I seized it like a drowning man seizes a rope, and just like a rope, that hand hauled me out of deep trouble. I barely managed to grab my bag with my free hand.
"Let's get out of here," Mustapha said, and I jumped on the back of his Harley behind him, my bag slung over my shoulder and mashed between us to keep it secure. Though I was still trying to grasp what had just happened, my wiser self was telling me to think later, get the hell out of there now. Mustapha lost no time. Just as we zipped across the grassy median to head back into Shreveport, I watched a car pull up to offer help to the apparent wreck.
"No, they'll get hurt!" I yelled.
"It's Long Tooth wolves. You stay on." And off we took. After that, I concentrated on clinging to Mustapha as we rocketed through the night. After my initial gush of relief, it was frustrating not to be able to ask any of the fifty questions racing through my mind. I wasn't totally surprised when we pulled up in the circular driveway in front of Alcide's house. I had to exert a conscious effort to unclench my muscles so I could dismount. Mustapha took off his helmet and gave me a thorough look. I nodded to let him know I was okay. My hand would hurt from the squeeze Van had given it, and I was covered with dots of blood, but it wasn't mine. I looked down at my watch. Bill had had time to deposit Colton at the airport, but he should be driving here. The whole thing had happened that quickly.
"What you doing wearing prostitute clothes?" Mustapha asked severely, and hustled me over to the front door.
Alcide opened the door himself, and if he was bowled over with surprise, he did a good job of hiding it.
"Damn, Sookie, whose blood?" he said, and waved us in.
"Rogue werewolf," I said. I reeked.
"No cars coming, so I had to take action then," Mustapha explained. "I shot Laidlaw. He was driving. The pack's taking care of the others."
"Tell me," Alcide said, bending down to look me in the eyes. He nodded, satisfied with what he saw. I opened my mouth. "In as few words as possible," he added.
Apparently, time was of the essence.
"Palomino found where Felipe was keeping a guy hostage, a guy we needed to rescue. Discreetly. I kind of resemble her, so to leave her cover intact, I pretended to be her wearing this waitress outfit." I glared at Mustapha. "That the casinos picked out," I added, to make myself clear. Alcide gave me a little shake to speed me up.
"Okay! So Bill and I came out with the hostage and we were gonna drive off, when this group of four Weres comes up, and the leader, Van-whom I'd seen here, by the way, so I thought he was okay-Van tells us you sent them to get me and I need to come with them, because they've found Warren's body and they want me to verify that it's really Warren."
Alcide turned his back and shook his head from side to side. Mustapha looked down at the floor, his face a map of complex emotions.
"So Bill headed to the-away, with the hostage, and I got in the car with Van and them, and I realized pretty quick that they were rogues because you wouldn't have 'em. That Van ..." And then I just didn't want to talk about him anymore.
"He hit you, huh?" Alcide said, turning back to eye my face. There was a moment of fraught silence. "He rape you?"