The Cypress Trap: A Suspense Thriller by JC Gatlin Read Free Book Online Page A

call him Luger.”
    “Luger?”
Rayanne asked. “As in a wad of spit?”
    “As
in our pet Rottweiler,” Dru answered. She leaned on one leg as she spoke,
clearly proud of herself. Her dog growled at Owen, and this brought a smile to
her lips. “You wanna meet him?”
    The
dog shot forward, springing at Owen and snapping his jaws. It grasped a
mouthful of jeans and shook its head. Owen stumbled backward, kicking his leg
to force the dog to let go. He raised his arms and yelled.
    Rayanne
screamed too, grabbing the dog’s collar and pulling its head back. It was
useless, though, as the dog’s jaw clamped shut. Scared that the Rottweiler was
about to rip her husband’s leg from his body, Rayanne lost her grip of the
collar and shouted, “Call him off,” though she could barely get the words out.
“Call him off!”
    Dru
whistled. The dog released Owen’s pant leg. It returned to her side, never
taking its black eyes off Owen.
    Rayanne
launched herself into Owen’s arms, then fell to his feet. His pants were torn,
but he wasn’t bitten. His leg was red, though the skin wasn’t broken.
    Owen
pushed her away and leaned toward Scut. He raised an arm and shouted, “Whaddya
want?”
    Scut
laughed at this and bent down to grab the flashlight lying on the ground.
    “C’mon,
Owen Meeks,” Scut said, turning the flashlight off and on in Owen’s face. “You
know what we want …”

 
     
    8
     
    Scut
shook the flashlight. The light reappeared and he shined it in Owen’s eyes.
“I’m givin’ you a chance to just hand it over and keep things simple.”
    “I
don’t know what yer talk’n about.” Owen waved his hand, pushing the flashlight
from his face. He reached for his back pocket as Scut returned the light to his
face. Owen shrank back. “You want money? I got seventy-five, maybe a hundred
dollars in my wallet.”
    “We
don’t want your money, old man.”
    Owen
raised his voice. “Then whaddya want?”
    Luger
growled again.
    Owen
looked at the dog, then at Scut. “I don’t know what you want.”
    Rayanne
had the large T-shirt back on and stood up. “Scat, wait. Do you own a black
van?”
    “It’s
Scut.” He eyed her and grinned. “And, yeah. Maybe.”
    “You’ve
been following us?” She took a step forward and stood beside her husband. “I
saw it on the interstate and then in town and then again at the cabin a mile or
so from here.”
    “Yeah,”
he said slowly, running a tattooed hand over the top of his head, smoothing
down his spiked hair. The little hairs instantly flipped up as he nodded at
Rayanne. “Yeah, we been track’n you all day. But if you tell your hubby to give
it back, we’ll leave you in peace.”
    Owen
clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you want. This mechanic in town suggested
we come out here. Said we could use the boat ramp—”
    “Look,”
Scut said, cutting him off. “I don’t care about your boat. I don’t care about
your wallet. You got someth’n that don’t belong to you and I’m
askin’—nicely—for ya to give it back.”
    Owen
didn’t blink. He seemed to be mulling something over. “You’re gonna have to be
more specific.”
    The
group fell silent. Rayanne watched her husband. Scut shook his head and held up
his hands.
    Still
gripping the flashlight, he waved it like a sword as he spoke. “We ain’t lett’n
you leave till you give it back. Besides, it’s dark and when the sun goes down,
that little dirt road that got you here gets all kinds of dangerous and …” He
looked over at Rayanne and his grin widened. He aimed the flashlight at her.
“Freaky.”
    Owen
sidestepped in front of his wife, blocking her from the teenager. “Dropp’n F!
Get outta here. Leave us alone.”
    Owen
balled both his fists and stepped a foot closer toward Scut. Luger growled and
leaned forward, ready to pounce. The growl was deep in its throat, almost a
rumbling. The animal watched Owen, and there was something bitter and
calculating in its