Chapter Five #2
She shoved in even farther, and slapped her hand over his mouth as he started to scream in agony. And then she worked the knife some more, going left, right, down. Up again.
“Kind of like hollowing out a pumpkin, really.”
His eyes were so wide and gleaming, they were like a pair of full moons peering over the edge of her hand, and his hard, driving breaths sucked and blew against her palm.
As she breathed in the scent of his blood, the satisfaction she felt was almost sexual, the find-out part of the fuck-around equation driven home with a nice, sharp point.
“And now it’s time to go.”
With her elbow, she opened the passenger door to her truck, and she steered him with the knife handle. He was totally compliant. Then again, she was in complete control of him, and that must have been a shocker for the bullying asshole.
Plus, yeah, sure, the whole abdominal owie thing.
Releasing the clamp on his mouth, she bent her knees and grabbed him around the thighs. Because she was strong, it wasn’t that big a strain jacking him up into the bucket seat—then again, she was careful to use proper deadlift technique.
God, the jokes just wrote themselves, really.
Oh, and thank heavens for WeatherTech covers and floor mats. When she’d installed them all, it had been about preserving the truck’s interior against normal wear-and-tear because she was a nasty neat when it came to her few possessions.
Murder was over and above that rubric, sure. But assuming they did their job, it was a shame she wasn’t going to be able to leave a candid five-star review on the products.
And hey, ’cuz safety first, she hopped up on the running board, stretched the seatbelt over her victim’s girth, and locked him into place.
“Comfy?” She patted his lapel. “Good boy. We don’t have all that far to go, but the roads are slippery tonight. I’d hate to have something happen on the way.”
Both of his fleshy paws hovered around the handle sticking out of his stomach, the circle of his palms forming a little bull’s-eye.
“I’m also a licensed driver, so don’t worry on that front, either.”
“W-what…” he wheezed. “Are you… doing…”
“I’d start with why if I were you. The what is pretty self-explanatory, given that I’ve just cut you open and disconnected most of your internal organs, don’t you think?
” She put her face into his, so he didn’t have to work hard to find her eyes in all his pain and confusion.
“I know what you’ve been doing to her, and I’m not going to let you hurt her anymore.
That’s the why, and no, you’re not coming out of this alive. ”
She shut him in and bent down. He’d dropped his key fob and she snatched it from the snow.
Not too much spilled blood there, all things considering, but she scuffed things up anyway, kicking fresh snow over where they’d been standing.
And the good news? Humans didn’t have the kind of nose she did so they weren’t going to notice any copper tint to the air.
Just as she was walking around the front of her truck, the restaurant’s rear entrance popped open and she froze.
With the light streaming out of the hallway and the exterior security fixtures pointing into the lot, the person was nothing but a silhouette. The build gave it away.
Marco.
“You okay there, Denne?” he asked.
Now, there was a loaded question—and could he see through the front windshield?
Yes, there was snow still falling, but it was just flurries, really, and everything was tinted except the front glass.
Her first instinct was to turn around and check, except that would just draw attention to what was sitting shotgun.
And yeah, sure, she could take the head chef’s memories.
She just didn’t want to do that to a human she liked and respected—
Oh, shit. The young woman was still in her office, and this was going to take a little time.
“I’m just bringing my friend home,” she called back to him. “Can you do me a favor? There’s a customer in my office. She needs a ride.”
“No problem, I’ll have Emilio take her wherever she needs to go.” There was a pause. “You want help out there?”
Denne shook her head. “Nah. I got this.”
There was another heartbeat of silence, and she had the thought that her fourth wall was finally being breached.
She’d been really good over the last decade, coming to the restaurant, learning the ropes, fitting in by pitching in so that none of them thought she was anything different than they were—
Marco lifted his hand. “Okay, I’ll take care of everything on this end. You handle that, and you’ll let me know if you… need anything.”
Then the door shut. Like they’d merely been touching base on a shift change or maybe the weather for tomorrow.
Denne exhaled and closed her eyes. God, she loved Italians. They just understood the way things rolled.
As she pivoted around to the truck, she saw that the automatic wipers had kept the windshield clear, and the glow from the dashboard meant that the man’s shocked, pale face was well lit enough to qualify for a driver’s license picture.
No blood was showing, though. That was all below the diaphragm.
As she went over and got behind the wheel, she glanced at her passenger. He was breathing in a series of hitches, and he had this rapt expression on his pasty face. Maybe he was approaching the human version of the Fade?
He should not be getting past that door. Hell was where he belonged, and she was going to send him there.
Abruptly, his head flopped in her direction, and a tear escaped his eye. “Help… me…”
“Not as much fun when the pain is yours, huh.” Smiling, she put the engine in gear. “Sir.”