Chapter Eight
The three bearded men just stood around her, staring down at her hungrily, one of them shining a handheld spotlight on her as the car drove off. Soon the sound of its engine had faded away. Now all Krissy could hear were the sounds of crickets and frogs. She could see that she’d been left somewhere out in the country. Not too far away was what looked like an old, two-story farmhouse. The only other things she could see were the surrounding trees…and those three men. They looked like bikers, they were dressed like bikers, and they were close enough to her for her to know that they smelled like bikers. One of them nudged her with his big, dirty boot.
“What’s yer name, honey?” the one with the spotlight asked.
“Krissy,” she replied. “Please don’t hurt me.”
They all laughed a
