Dustin finds himself doing a favor for Rusty, at Jordan's bequest, but is it all it seems to be? And how long will Dustin allow himself to be led around by the dick? Maybe some of the answers can be found in this week's chapter of The Sheriff. Don't forget to see what the other Briefers are up to! Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
The Sheriff #22 (6.4)
Just when had he become so dick-whipped?
Against his own better judgment, Dustin accompanied Rusty into the darkened house, Jordan’s kiss still lingering on his lips.
“Why isn’t Lenny coming?” Dustin whispered as they crossed the wide lawn.
“’Cause,” was the only response he received.
Things only grew worse and worse. If this was a friend who’d arranged this, why not give Rusty the key? And if this was planned in advance, surely this friend would have told Rusty where to find what. But Rusty seemed to be playing everything by ear. The blind leading the blind.
Rusty had a small flashlight he shone about as they wandered through the large house. When Dustin accidentally bumped into a table he couldn’t see, the sound echoed around them. Rusty whirled on him, fist raised. “Not a sound!” he hissed.
Dustin was too startled to respond. What the hell, dude?
Rusty picked up random pieces here and there, piling them into Dustin’s arms. Dustin began to wonder if he was looking for items of value, or things that were portable. They crept up the stairs to the second floor, to what Dustin presumed was the master bedroom. Rusty hesitated outside the door for a moment, before taking a quick peek inside. Then he seemed to relax as he turned to Dustin and beckoned him inside.
“No one’s home,” he said in a more normal tone of voice.
I thought you already knew that? Dustin didn’t voice his concern. He felt awkward enough as it was, and voices in his head were screaming at him to get the hell out of there, this is so not right. Not for Jordan, not for anyone.
“We should go—” His protest died when he found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver Rusty had drawn on him.
“Shut up and keep still,” he told him. Dustin froze in place.
Keeping the gun trained on Dustin, Rusty approached the bed and yanked off the elegant bedding with one hand, down to the top sheet, sweeping everything else onto the floor. “Drop that stuff here,” he instructed, motioning toward the middle of the bed. Dustin did as he’d instructed.
“Now make a bundle of that. It’ll be easier to carry,” Rusty said. He began to rummage through a box on top of one of the dressers. “Ah, the good stuff.”
Dustin saw what he thought must be diamonds, reflecting what little light came through the bedroom windows. Rusty was stuffing everything into his pockets. When he was done, he threw the empty case on the floor, then opened a top drawer.
“Ooh, pretty,” he exclaimed. He took something from the drawer and held it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. He withdrew more of them, burying his face in the fabric with undisguised delight. Only then did Dustin recognize them as women’s lacy panties. Rusty stuffed the lingerie into his pockets as well, to Dustin’s disgust. Surely that had no resell value? What the hell was going on here?
“Grab that stuff and let’s scram,” Rusty said, waving the gun in what he probably considered a menacing manner. Dustin was more afraid the man who would shoot him accidentally than on purpose. Either way had to hurt, though. Feeling more than a little stupid, and anxious to get the hell out of here so he could proceed to forget this night, he did as Rusty ordered.
Wait ‘til Jordan finds out what’s going on.
They exited the house without incident. By now, Dustin was sure Rusty’s entire story was phony, so he was grateful that the homeowners didn’t suddenly show up. Or worse, the police. When they reached Jordan’s car, Lenny was standing there. He popped open the trunk and pointed toward it, a clear indicator of what Dustin needed to do with his bundle. Dustin dropped it inside, gladly, then turned to Rusty, who had put the gun out of sight once more.
“Motherfucker, don’t you ever draw on me again,” he warned him.
Rusty only laughed. “Get over yourself, kid,” he said.
The driver’s door opened, and Dustin saw Jordan silhouetted in the moonlight. “Hey guys, get in. Now.”
Rusty slammed the trunk lid shot, then gave Dustin a cheeky look. “You heard your master. Now move it.” Without waiting for a response, he got into the back seat, behind Lenny.
Dustin was beyond angry. He climbed in the car on the passenger side and turned an indignant face toward Jordan.
“Something wrong, babe?”
“I think I just helped Rusty rob this house, so yeah, something’s wrong!” Dustin blurted out. “I think he lied about the whole story he gave us. I don’t think he knows this homeowners at all, or any friends of theirs.”
If he expected Jordan to turn to Rusty and demand an explanation, Dustin was disappointed. In fact, Jordan didn’t seem very surprised at all at Dustin’s revelation. A sickening feeling crept into his stomach, as thoughts he didn’t want to have began to worm their way into his brain.
“We got some good stuff,” Rusty said from the back seat. “Want to go over it tonight or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s time enough,” Jordan said. He slid his hand onto Dustin’s thigh, caressing it. “I have other things to do tonight.”
Was he serious?
The little voices were screaming Get out, now! And he fully intended to listen to them this time. But when he reached for the door handle, Jordan’s grip tightened.
“You’re not going anywhere, you’re one of us now, honey. “
“Like hell I am!” Dustin yelled.
“Tsk, tsk.” Jordan clicked his tongue. “No need to get so worked up. You’re an accomplice now. And with your help, we’re going to get into that nice computer store you work at.”
Dustin felt utterly sick to his stomach as he slumped back against the seat.
What had he gotten himself into now?
to be continued
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