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Two steps down, she realised bluffing might not give her quite the head start she’d counted on when her feet plunged into the river water with a splash.
-chapter four-
Paul “Rock Giant” Reed
Rock Giant knew a thing or two about people. All sorts of people… He knew how to gain new friends fast, love them intensely for a weekend, and then let them go again. He could read people and weigh them up in a fraction of the time others took to reach the same conclusions. Bad guys, good guys… Bad girls, good girls… People who were hiding things, and those who weren’t so hot on the lying front. It’s what happened when you spent your life on the road, mingling with people for a week or a weekend and then leaving them behind.
This girl didn’t add up.
She hadn’t been with them before they’d stopped at the services. Therefore, it didn’t make sense for her to be here now, when there wasn’t anyone else around. Also, you didn’t get on this bus without knowing who Cave Troll was, and finally, she was shooting him ultra-cagey glances, like she couldn’t decide whether to drink her fill of his near nakedness or run for her fucking life.
All right, so the latter part wasn’t so very unusual when he was in his stage get up, but right now, his hair was tangled, he was dripping wet, and he was wearing a flippin’ mini skirt made of terry towelling. Scary? Not really! Unless she was terrified of him accidentally flashing his tackle.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he grumbled, when she dived for the exit. Really, they had to do this the hard way. Why—seriously, why—did they always insist on running? It’d be nice if just once they’d acknowledge it was a pointless endeavour.
Two strides under normal circumstances and he’d have caught her. It was only his position behind the wheel and his lack of suitable attire that meant it was three. His hand on the back of her jacket clearly took her by surprise, as she shrieked so loud his eardrums were at risk of perforation. She wriggled eel-like and somehow slithered out of her jacket. No matter, he could still outpace her, and while he’d never strike a girl, he had no problem sitting on her until she gave him the information he wanted.
Down the steps he went; his feet plunged into icy water. Confused, he looked down, right as she dropped into the vast inky lake he’d mistaken for wet tarmac. The resulting splash splattered him with dirty brown water.
The woman hadn’t merely stalled Bertha, she’d drowned her.
Aghast, he padded after her to the lowermost water-covered step. The earlier rain had returned in earnest, and still lashed down. The backdrop was open countryside, rolling hills, and clumps of copse-wood. Night had drawn in, yet there were no lights for miles. A signpost lay ahead; a quarter of it submerged, much like the undercarriage of the bus. Poor Bertha was wallowing hippo-like about eight feet from the road in the centre of a goddamned river, and there was no sign of the guys, or the service station they’d pulled up at while he’d been in the shower.
Jeezus fucking Christ!He was all for adventure, but this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind when he’d been singing the praises of every god he could think of hoping one of them might be listening and provide him with some welcome entertainment. Where the fuck was he?
It seemed the only person who could provide the answer was wading away from him in a blind panic and was likely to get washed away by the current.
A single tug dislodged the towel. Rock Giant stowed it on top of the fridge compartment for his return, then he dropped naked into the running water and struck out after her. The sound of his pursuit made her squeal again and double her pace, but with his much longer legs and more powerful build, he quickly caught up. “Where do you think you’re going?” He grasped hold of her upper arm, wrenching her around to face him. Her feet slipped out from under her as she spun, and under the water she went. Rock Giant grabbed hold of her clothing and wrenched her upwards. “Don’t go ducking out on me. You’ve some explaining to do. You can start with why the hell we’re in a river, and where the hell we are.”
“No.” She shook her head, theatrically spluttering water everywhere. “Let go. Stop trying to drown me.”
Oh, that was a good one. “If I was attempting to drown you, I’d be holding your head under the water.” He dunked her, just so she’d get the idea. She rose again, coughing and flailing her arms, as if anything so ineffectual would beat him back.
“You’re going to talk to me,” he calmly explained. “We can do it in the dry on the bus, or right here – your choice, but it’s happening either way.” He kinda hoped that she went for outdoors; he had a feeling dunking her a few more times might loosen her tongue more quickly. Although, her eyes were already pretty round with alarm, and her throat vibrated with terrified whimpers. “Where are we? How did we get here? Where are the rest of the band? And what the hell do you want from me?”
“Nothing! I don’t want anything. Let go of me.”
“If I do that, there’s a good chance you’re going to end up washed downstream, the way you’re flailing about.”
“I don’t need you looking out for me.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve a mind to do it anyway. Move. In the direction of the bus. You and I are going to talk, and I’m sure once you’ve had a moment to think about it, you’ll agree that’s preferable to me grabbing my phone and calling the police. I don’t think they’re going to have too much trouble finding you. I can’t imagine there are that many dripping wet ladies matching your description stalking the countryside.”
“What’s to say if I get back on the bus that’s not exactly what you’re going to do? Is it even safe to be on there?”
“Unless we’re about to cross into Rivendell, I don’t think Bertha’s about to get swept away. Now.” He easily about turned her. “I guarantee you’ll like explaining all this to me more than you would to the police. And you know, maybe if it all adds up, we won’t need to involve them beyond notifying them that the bridge appears to be missing, so that no one else gets stranded.”
“It’s a ford. Hardly anybody comes out this way.”
“Is that so? Good. It means you know where we are. See how easy that was?” In reality, he was not about to call the police. In all honesty, he probably didn’t need to. Somehow, he figured the guys would have noticed the tour bus was missing and reported it. That was assuming they hadn’t decided he’d taken Bertha out for a spin. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing he’d ever done. “I can’t guarantee that my friends haven’t reported the theft. You have stolen a tour bus.” Even if they thought he was responsible, there was a good chance they’d report the bus missing. You just didn’t take chances with that amount of equipment.
“That’s hardly persuasive.”
“You’re not exactly in a position to argue. If you’re concerned about being caught, maybe stealing a band’s tour bus wasn’t the smartest of moves.”
“You’re in a rock band?” she squawked, as if it were an actual revelation.
“No, I’m a friggin’ bus conductor.” He conducted her right up the steps, back onto the wallowing vessel. “Yes, I’m in a friggin’ rock band. I’m the bassist for Black—”
