Casper sucks back snot as he struggles to catch his breath. “I broke into Havoc’s house, and I took it from his bedroom.”
“Havoc—” Kerri interrupts.
“What else?” I demand from Casper while ignoring Kerri. “What else did you do, you fucking piece of trash?”
He swallows hard. “I-I killed your c-cat.”
“You fuckingmurderedmy cat.” I walk backward, away from Casper. “Now, you lay there and keep your mouth shut.”
Casper nods so frantically I don’t know how his head doesn’t snap off.
I take the phone off speaker. “Once I finish here, I’ll come to you.”
Again, she’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Havoc, I’m sorry about your cat.”
I’m not an emotional man, but seeing Little Man dead…bothered me. Casperwillpay for kicking that poor little animal hard enough to fracture the cat’s skull. “Where are you?”
“The Nights Inn on Route 170. Off exit 12. Near Aldenburg. Room 213.”
What the hell is she doing in that shithole?
Frustrated, I pinch the bridge of my nose. This night went from me ripping the soul from Casper’s body piece by piece to having to dial it up to hyperspeed.
“Yeah, okay.” I drop my arm and glare at Casper, but say to her, “Don’t fucking move.”
Her sigh of relief is loud and clear. “Thank you, Havoc.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Duchess,” I warn. “You owe me big-time for ruining my night.”
Because I can be a rude sonofabitch, I hang up on her. Slip the phone back in my pocket. Focus my attention on Casper, with time a hammer beating against my brain. I stalk back to Casper, eyes narrowed on the foul bastard. Goddamnit, I seriously wanted to prolong his agony. Ah, well. If life has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you’re forced to roll with what gets thrown at you and move on.
Other times, though, you can nurture the suffering life flings at you. Feed the ember. Make it burn so fucking good. Until it’s a raging inferno that scorches you from the inside out. Until the flames consume you so completely, you can’t remember who you were before the fire left you scarred.
Cursing, I yank the knife free from its sheath. “Say a prayer to whatever god you think will give you mercy and thank the woman who called. She saved you from hours of agony.”
“I’m sorry, Havoc.” Casper fights against the zip ties, trying to squirm away from me one last time. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Please don’t kill me. Please.”
In answer, I give him a slow shake of my head. “Stealing my money was bad, but I would have let you live. You would have been missing a few fingers, but you would have walked away with your life. But you had to be a whole dick, didn’t you? You had to kill my cat.”
I flip him on his back. Impale the blade through his right shoulder. His scream echoes throughout his nasty, tiny apartment. Not good enough. Doesn’t hurt nearly enough. So, I twist the blade, grinding the steel against his breastbone. But it’s still not enough. It’ll never be enough. No matter how much I hurt someone, I can’t quench my thirst for pain. To inflict it on anyone who does me dirty.
And on myself to silence the chaos in my brain.
A quick pull yanks the knife free. Casper relaxes with momentary relief, watching me with those big, frightened brown eyes. Begging me to stop. Pleading for mercy. The mercy he didn’t have for Little Man. Casper could have taken my money and left the house. He chose gratuitous violence. An act of savagery for the sake of hurting something small and helpless. Yeah, well, now I’m the bigger, meaner animal.
I hold the blade at Casper’s throat. “Beg me.”
“Please. I’ll do anything.”
I savor the fear I see etched all over Casper’s face. “Die for me.”
One swift movement of my hand swipes the blade across his neck, severing his carotid artery. Nothing too theatrical. It’s not like they show in the movies. The cut runs deep enough for him to bleed out without the dramatics. His eyes bulge, and his mouth works on empty words. He twitches once, twice. He makes a fucking mess. But still not nearly as sloppy as what I originally intended. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for him to die, and once the deed is done, I clean the blade on his shirt and return the knife to its sheath.
I don’t feel a sense of satisfaction. Casper deserved a coward’s death. He deserved more pain. But no way can I leave Kerri Ward—Brighton royalty, as Faith called her—in a friggin’ Nights Inn, of all places. Especially notthatNights Inn. Where a crackhead was found dead last month.
So, I gotta ask…
What the fuck isshedoingthereat two in the goddamn morning?
