Swamp Monster Massacre Read Free Page A

control.  
    Her sister Maddie gripped her arm.  
    “Where do you think he’s taking us?” Maddie said close to her ear. The whirring of the fan sounded like a pride of lions roaring.  
    “I don’t even think he knows,” Liz said. “He looks kinda confused. It feels like we’re just going in circles, but it’s hard to tell out here. Everything looks the same.”
    Liz eyed him from head to toe, looking for any possible weakness. His close-cropped black hair was straight out of Super Cuts. He was about as thick and solid as a pro wrestler, with colorful tattoos of Chinese dragons and koi fish forming two full sleeves. She saw the tension in his jaw as it clenched and unclenched, and took special note of his prison-yard stare. This was a man who made a living out of making regular guys wet themselves with just a look. People like that weren’t accustomed to having other people challenge them, especially young girls.  
    “I saw you staring at the gun. What do you think?”
    “Hard to tell. Even if it’s not loaded, do you see the size of him? He looks like he could box a bear.”
    “And probably win,” Maddie added.  
    She was right, but that didn’t stop Liz from considering all the different angles they could take. Sooner or later, he would have to stop the boat. She just had to think two steps ahead.
    That and stop the Italian kid next to her from copping a feel every time they made a hard turn. For now, he was a distant number two on her list.  
     
    Angelo’s leg touched the girl’s tan, toned thigh, and he couldn’t help thinking about how she would repay him for being the hero to get them out of this mess. Both chicks were bangin’. Shit, maybe he could get them both at the same time. Twins. Now there was an incentive to show this asshole what New Yorkers did to people who tried to fuck with them.  
    Dominic tapped his shoulder and motioned with his head to turn around.  
    The pistol had fallen out of the hijacker’s hand and lay next to the unconscious tour guide’s head.  
    All he had to do was take three steps and he could go all Mission Impossible on his ass. Dominic would have his back. He saw the old guy at the front look back. Their eyes met briefly, but it was enough to know that they were both on the same page. The dude’s wife was bleeding pretty bad, and Angelo would bet his left nut that he was nice and pissed and ready to stop this ride to nowhere.  
    They were in the middle of the friggin’ swamp. No one was taking shots at them…now. It was just one guy against at least three of them. Maybe the girls and the dork would jump in once things started.  
    He gave Dom a slight nod, and another to the guy in front.  
    His internal countdown began. He was going to fuck this guy’s shit up good.  

Chapter Five
    Nothing was going Rooster’s way. So much for making a big show with the pistol. That last near-wipeout had shaken his grip on the gun, and now it was at his feet. Worse yet, he saw that several of his hostages, because that’s what the police would be calling them now that word would have spread about the shooting and hijacking of the tour boat, had taken note that the gun was no longer in his possession.  
    The Jersey Shore guys looked like they had steroid-enhanced visions of heroism dancing in their thick heads. He caught their furtive glances at one another and the middle-aged guy in front. Little did they know that the bag had eleven more guns.
    There was no way he was about to entertain even the thought of a mutiny. He remembered a safe house, off the beaten path in the Everglades National Park, that his father had shown him a few times when he was old enough to learn the family business. His dad and his partners used the house from time to time to store stolen goods or just hide out until things cooled down on the mainland.  
    It had been at least ten years since he’d last been there himself. His father and his buddies had all been killed in that shootout