“Chances are you’ll sever his spinal cord, so he’s not going anywhere regardless. But he becomes dead weight. That could be a drag.” Soren exhaled a warm chuckle. “See what I did there?”
Tobias rolled his eyes at the terrible pun. “What are my other options?”
Both of Soren’s arms suddenly circled Tobias, keeping him immobile as he placed the tip of the knife just above Tobias’s left clavicle. “Five-inch blade, the narrower the better, straight down will puncture the aorta. They’ll bleed out in seconds and most of the mess will remain internal. It’s a fan fave of many foreign special forces guys. But, again, it requires some precision.”
Tobias had studied anatomy. These were all things he should know. Maybe, on some level, he did know. Maybe he just wanted Soren’s hands on his body and his breath on his neck and his words pressed against his skin? Jesus, this situation was… Untenable? Inopportune? Problematic? D. All of the above. Why was Tobias’s body suddenly waking up now at the age of thirty-three? This was absolutely the wrong time for his libido to decide it wanted to come in off the bench.Ugh, more metaphors.“Is that it? Are those my only two options?”
Soren whipped him around so they were face to face, their bodies touching from chest to hip, with only the knife between them, the tip pressed against Tobias’s skin between the fourth and fifth rib. “This one is quick and dirty, but, sometimes, there’s a chance you miss and you have a repeat of ol’ Paddy. If you can overpower him, this is the better option. Femoral artery is too messy.”
Soren dropped his hand but didn’t step away from Tobias, leaving their bodies half-pressed together.
“Yeah, I get it; it’s all on me. This is mine to fuck up. Fantastic,” Tobias muttered, feeling cranky.
“You could always change your mind?”
“I’m just having a bit of stage fright,” Tobias groused.
Soren’s thigh was suddenly against Tobias’s very obvious erection, his lips grazing his ear when he murmured, “Scared stiff?”
“Maybe the idea of killing just really turns me on?” Tobias managed.
Soren’s responding chuckle sent a shiver along Tobias’s nerve endings. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, Doc.”
Tobias stepped away, turning his back on Soren. “I should get some sleep. I have a whole roster of clients this week and my dry cleaning to pick up before I start practicing to murder Walter.”
“Yeah, okay. I don’t want to keep you from your beauty sleep.” The audible lilt of amusement was as hot as it was infuriating.
* * *
In retrospect,Walter Jennings truly was the best possible target for Tobias to practice on. The man was in his mid-forties, average height, slender build, with not too much fat to hide the anatomical markers Tobias had spent days practicing to hit with stealth and efficiency. The man had even shaved his head, though Tobias suspected that had more to do with his perversions than making Tobias’s life easier. It worked in his favor, regardless of Walter’s original intentions, so it was a-okay with him.
They only had to watch his house for three nights for it to become glaringly apparent that Jennings was a creature of habit—disgusting habits, but habits nonetheless. The guy worked at a pizza place that catered to children, stopped by the liquor store each night on his way home to his basement-level apartment, and then drank himself into a stupor on his filthy couch.
Soren had suggested they strike while the man was unconscious, but that didn’t work for Tobias. The idea had enraged him, actually.Absolutely not. If he had to make his kill efficient, then he at least wanted Jennings to have a moment of fear, of blind panic, before he was snuffed from the world. He wanted him to know it was coming. No, heneededhim to know.
Gaining entry had been easy enough. A narrow bank of windows ran along the wall at the base of the stairs leading to Jennings’s front door. Three unlocked windows below street level were just wide enough for Soren and Tobias to slip through. They’d checked all three nights and Jennings had never once locked them. Judging by the number of cobwebs they encountered, the man seemed certain the spiders would be enough to scare away intruders.
Upon entry, it had become clear that the man had nothing worth stealing and that his cleanliness was on par with his sense of human decency. He lacked both. There were dishes stacked in the sink caked with God knows what, the carpet was black, the vents covered in dust so thick it looked like smoke. That alone should have been enough for Tobias to put him on the kill list. This level of refuse was criminal.
During an impromptu stage rehearsal the day prior, Soren had advised Tobias to wait in the shadows behind the door, emerging once it shut behind Jennings. Then it was just a matter of being fast and focused. Step forward, stab, and done. Soren would be there but across the room, behind the bathroom door, intervening only if it seemed Tobias was in trouble.
Tobias wouldn’t have trouble. He’d fantasized about killing Walter Jennings for seven years, two of those years while he sat across from the man listening to every depraved detail, pretending not to know that his alligator tears were just that, the fake tears of a monster.
Now that the moment had arrived, Tobias’s whole body trembled—not with fear but with anticipation. His heart raced, his palms were sweaty in his leather gloves. Maybe that was just the combination of a black long sleeved shirt, black pants, and black gloves in an apartment with no air conditioning and no ventilation. He felt a bit like a cartoon burglar, but Soren had insisted he cover as much of himself as possible if he was going to be so close to his victim.
And in just a few short minutes, he would be, and then there would be one less monster on the loose.
Tobias rolled his head on his shoulders until his neck popped, flexing his fingers around the five-inch blade of the Bowie knife. Jennings was a predator, but tonight, Tobias was the apex predator and he was going to enjoy every moment.
By the time the door creaked open just after nine-thirty, Tobias was a bow string, tightened to the point of snapping. He’d played and replayed the moment over and over in his head like it was a dance routine. He supposed it was. His first solo performance.Step forward, grab the man’s throat from behind, then plunge the knife through the soft tissue into his brain.Easy. Fast. Efficient.
Jennings tripped over a shoe on the floor, muttering to himself and kicking the offending footwear across the room. He dropped his house keys on a warped particle board table beside the entrance before he slammed the door shut behind him without looking.
Tobias didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward out of the shadows, into the pool of light that spilled in through the basement windows from the street lamps at the top of the concrete steps.
He smiled.
Jennings didn’t even notice him.
