Missing by Adam Nicholls (top e book reader .TXT) 📖

San Francisco looked beautiful at night, but it was also scary. Especially for Johnny, who despised driving near the cable cars, hating how those things rattled his bones. He was already shaking enough.

“First time, sweetie?’ The woman pulled down the vanity mirror and applied some fresh lipstick. It smelled delicious, like cherries.

“No,” he lied.

She flicked up the mirror and sat back, assessing him. “So then, where’re we going? Your house? Or would you like to do this somewhere more exciting?”

Johnny hadn’t thought that far ahead. They sure as hell couldn’t go to his parents’ house—they would not be thrilled about their only son banging a prostitute in their own home. “Somewhere quiet. Any ideas?”

“Sure.”

Johnny drove in silence as the woman—still delightfully mysterious—directed him to a place she would only describe as “a good spot.” This ambiguity conjured images of a whole range of places, further rousing his curiosity.

“Pull up here,” she said, shuffling in her seat.

He stopped the car under a large tree at the back of a desolate parking lot, which overlooked some kind of park. It was an eerie place, dimly lit by a weak streetlamp back at the entrance.

Johnny shut off the engine and sat now in total silence. Looking around, he realized he knew the place, a popular spot for people looking for anything—sex, drugs, and whatever else might go down. He’d even considered coming here himself once or twice.

“So, what’ll it be?’ she asked, teasing her tongue across her top lip. “My hand? My mouth? All of me?”

Johnny felt his chest constrict. “I don’t know.” A shrill, anxious chuckle escaped. Truth was, he was already aroused and knew exactly what he wanted, but he was too shy to say it. Not only that, but he couldn’t keep his hands still. “What do you suggest?”

“That’s cute.” The woman giggled behind her palm and glanced over her shoulder. “It’s pretty quiet up here. Does anyone know what you’re doing tonight?”

Is she trying to make me more comfortable with conversation? “No. Well, my friend Callum knows I was thinking about doing this. Guess I just thought I’d never actually go through with it.”

Her hand drifted over and rested on his leg. She curved her fingers and rubbed gently with her fingertips. “Get out of the car. Let’s make this fun.” Before he could answer, she’d stepped out of the car and walked around to sit on the hood.

Johnny unclipped his seat belt and went to join her, one hand rummaging through his pocket in frantic search of a condom. “Sorry.”

“Come here.” The woman crooked her finger, beckoning him.

Hesitant, scared, and rising swiftly in his pants, Johnny approached her, blocking out a headlight beam. He moved to take her in his arms but was stopped short by her hand against his chest.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” she said, turning and pinning him against the hood. She lowered herself to her knees, staring up at him with those seductive eyes.

One hand was hooked onto his belt, as if she was teasing, making him wait—making him harder.

Johnny closed his eyes and tried to relax, feeling one hand on his stomach, another slowly unzipping his fly.

And then he felt nothing.

“Do me a favor,” she said, as if she had a sudden change of heart.

Johnny’s eyes shot open, and his stomach clenched when he saw the knife in her hand. His pulse raced as a flurry of questions flooded his mind. “Is this some kind of joke?” He looked around, wondering if one of the boys from his hockey club would leap out of the trees and yell Gotcha!

“Just shut up,” she barked, serious now, a different person to the one who’d aroused him. “You’re going to keep quiet, hold still, and help me send a message.”

Just as Johnny wondered exactly what kind of a message, the knife flashed up and pierced his jugular. His jaw dropped in surprise, mouth gasping.

Johnny had always thought about death and dying. But he had never thought it would happen to him.

“Quiet now,” she whispered.

It was the last thing he heard before he hit the ground.