Then he catches sight of me.Game on!
Outrunning a geriatric man isn’t hard. Furt hobbles away from me, his recent knee replacement probably aching as he hustles over to the knife block on his kitchen counter.
I lunge and jab the needle right into his fleshy backside and squirt the paralytic so far up his ass he cries out. I almost pity him… Almost. Pedos don’t deserve pity. Or mercy.
Furt slumps to the tile floor in a pathetic heap.
I nudge his shin with my steel-toedboot that’s so big, my foot slides forward an inch. I should have stuffed tissues in my boots, but oh well. I’ll have to make do with clown shoes.
Furt’s unresponsive. No movement. No sound. The senator gazes up at me, his stare slack with paralysis.
“I think we need to have a chat.” Lifting with my knees, I haul the senator up and over my shoulder. Can’t risk throwing my back out in the middle of a future crime scene. Carefully, I settle him onto the marble kitchen island. His body spans from one end to the other, giving me enough space to work.
“You know, Mr. Senator, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. It’s an honor to meet you.” I lean into his ear and whisper, “You see, a little birdie told me you’ve been having meetings. Meetings about a certain bill. I warned you to stop it. I warned you all when McArthur died. But no, instead of killing the bill, you ignored me. In fact, you were planning on taking Senator Troy on a trip to Thailand to get the Committee on board. Bribing him with the local flavor. Sound about right?”
Daphne texted me last week about Furt’s trip. When I called, she didn’t pick up. She’s still upset with me, and damnit, I hate having her shut me out. If only she’d talk to me so we could work this out. Maybe targeting Furt is a way of apologizing for not holding up my end of the deal. Flowers didn’t cut it as an apology. I sent her three bouquets, and each one ended up in her trash can the next day. The chocolates I sent her were eaten, judging by the empty gold Godiva box beside a bouquet of yellow daisies. I thought she’d get theGilmore Girlsreference, but maybe not. It’s been over a week, and my calls are still unanswered.
I guess she never asked for the additional Secret Servicedetail since I was able to waltz up to her house in the middle of the day and check her trash can.
When Furt doesn’t respond, I retrieve my backpack from the floor and pluck out my knife from its leather holster. A tear slips down Senator Furt’s crinkled face.
Oh, if this man weren’t paralyzed, he’d be begging for mercy. I’m not a sadist, but damn, I want to hear this fucker beg.
“That’s a strong paralytic, isn’t it?”
Still nothing.
“You know, it’s rude not to answer. So, let’s try that again. That’s a strong paralytic I gave you. Isn’t it?”
More nothing.
Slap!
My gloved hand collides in a softened blow across Furt’s cheek. It’s not as satisfying without the force from skin-to-skin contact, but it serves my point.
Another tear slips down Furt’s face, racing toward his hairline beside his temples. I rest the edge of my blade under the tear to stop it from falling any further.
“Now, I know you can’t move. But I also know that you can feel this.” I run the knife lower before tilting the tip inward. The triangular tip of the blade nicks Furt’s cheek. Red blends with the tear, the watery mixture gliding off the edge of the blade.
“I hope you got travel insurance, Senator. You won’t make it to Thailand.”
Lifting his tie, I run my blade under the loop and slice it clean around his neck. Then, working my knife between the buttons of his starched designer shirt, I cut downward like a bespoke-suit butcher, severing buttons until they scatter across the marble counter and onto the floor. My knife winds its way backto Furt’s throat.
“I could make this quick,”
The blade glides under the collar of his white T-shirt before sliding down his chest, and the melody of fabric ripping sounds like music.
“But I bet you didn’t make it quick for those Thai kids.” I set the blade down for a moment to unbuckle his belt and pull it loose. “Did you play games with them, Senator? Did you play Go Fish? Or hide and seek? Or did you skip right to hide the pickle?”
My knife slides under his waistband before skimming down one pant leg, then down the other, shredding his…
Gross.
“Tighty whities?”
My knife makes quick work of those, cutting them away.
I grab onto his shoes and tug them off his feet.
