Zen spat. His heart felt like a punch bag as he shuffled away from the woman at the wheel. “Why, would you prefer to walk?” She looked at him and smiled seductively. “How the hell do you know my name?” His stomach twisted in knots. “They told me.” “They?” “You know, them.” She smiled, all sugar and spice and all things nice. Zen shivered. Hellish images filled his head. The woman leaned forward and pressed play on the CD player in the dashboard. It looked incongruous compared to the battered condition of the lorry. Seconds later the guttural, dark and angry music of Slipknot reverberated around the cab. “How did you find me?” “I was told where to look.” How did they know? How did they fucking know? “So what did they send you for?” “To make sure you don’t stray from the path.” Zen took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. It didn’t work. “So what’s your name?” An indefinable aura emanated from her; made her seem both beautiful and yet deadly, like a thunderhead.
