Frid
CHAPTER ONE
Nick Boothey gripped the shotgun tightly, surveying his hostages. There were three of them, two teenage girls and the store's owner, a small, oldish, balding man with bad breath. All three looked terrified and he couldn't blame them. If those bloody army pricks didn't do what they were told and fuck off, this little deli would be splattered with blood. He had four bullets left - one would, if worst came to worst, be for him. He had no intention of going to jail. The Juvenile Detention Centre had been bad enough, but now he was over the age, and if he didn't get out of here, it would be prison for sure.
The phone rang, surprising no one. It had rung on and off, insistently, for the last two hours. It was the army, trying to 'establish communication'. A one-fingered salute was all the communication they'd get from now on. He'd told them to clear out and no one would get hurt. But no, the fucking pigs knew everything. If they thought he was going to give up, they were madder than he was. He'd held up two petrol stations, sold drugs, and raped an underage girl. Rape bullshit. That Talia bitch had been more than willing to go three - make that four - rounds with him in her parents' bed. She'd even gone along on the second petrol station job, the one where he'd lost his rag and blown the stupid fucking attendant to Kingdom Come. After that, Talia had turned on him. Bitch. He knew it was the danger that had attracted her to him, but as soon as there got a bit of real heat, the cowardly slag ran a mile.
Smiling, Nick took a look at the teenage girls in the store. One blonde, one brunette. Big tits. Couldn't be more than fifteen. Just the way he liked 'em. So fucking innocent, but given the right circumstances, so fucking wild. Just like Talia. Take your clothes off,
he told them. They stood, staring, not wanting to understand. I said take your fucking clothes off, you whores,
he pointed the guns, or I'll blow your brains out.
The girls started to whimper with fear. And none of that crying shit, neither, I want you two whores smiling.
Terrified, forcing sick grins, and trying to hold back tears, the two teenage girls stripped down to their bras and panties.
Nick felt a hardness in his trousers, and his throat was dry. And the rest,
he ordered. He noticed then that the stupid old bastard behind the counter had also stripped down to his string vest and Y-fronts. Not you, you sick old fart,
he spat. Although I might let you have a bit of fun with one of those two slags.
He thought about it for a moment, and grinned. Yeah, come on, old man, which do you want, the blonde or the brunette? Mm?
The old man looked at him uncertainly. Come on, old-timer, make up your mind or I'll plaster that fucking counter with your genitals. Well?
The b - brunette,
the old man stammered.
Pants off, take her,
Nick ordered. The old man came out from behind the counter, naked. Nick grimaced. Guess some things don't improve with age, eh Pop? You girl, show him how it's done. Do it!
The naked young girl took the sagging old man in her arms. The old man's hands moved to cup her supple young breasts, needing no encouragement. The girl's nubile young body spread around him, arms and legs encircling him as he lowered her to the floor.
Nick watched with amusement. Bet that's the most fucking fun you've had in fifty years, ain't it Pop?
The naked blonde girl, shivering in the cold, looked at him in fury. Well, come on, big boy, are you going to get around to me or do you just watch because you can't manage it yourself?
Nick blew her brains out, showering the deli with blood. The unlikely, writhing couple on the floor screamed. Nick put a bullet in the old man's head. It sang through him and smacked into the girl's brains.
It was not a dignified way to die.
The deli door was kicked open.
Nick whirled.
Two army men came through the door, guns raised.
