Page 11 of Killer Bones

Is he a hitman?

“If I tell Montez you are not you, that you kill for fun and for a living… If I yell that?—”

He leans in. “I’ll break your neck first.”

Oh my. That wild guess…confirmation acquired. He’s gifted me this.

For a long moment, he holds me with his eyes, locked down, targeted. My brain runs amok, gibbering to itself. Holy shite. I will hang onto this chance at life, teeth deep in him if I must.

And I must.

My neck is intact, so far.

“I won’t.” I stroke the back of his hand where it has remained over mine. “I can help you do so much more. Save me, and I will.”

“Save you?” The amusement shows.

I firm my voice. “You, with me, equals power. I have four million followers, a voice?—”

“I don’t want power.”

“What are you saying to her?” Montez shifts in his chair. “I’m getting bored.”

“How to kill the woman! She asks me.”

“I don’t care. Let her stick her badly. She can die slow and sloppily.”

Dead Guy grunts, dares to ignore Montez.

I glimpse a chink in his armor. He promised to help me die easier. Why? I have no idea, but I know what he likes. Killing people. But me, he promised easy. I don’t understand that.

“Power, and I’ll help you find the right victims.” Whatever that means. I suck in a breath, exhale, shakily. “I offer myself too. My body.”

“Hmmm. I have that already.” With his fist, he crushes my hand to the pocketknife’s metal. “A promise?” He smiles, then breaks the smile in the same second, but the pressure of his fist endures.

“Yes,” I hiss. “I do promise. Ow. That hurts.” My toes curl, my clit swells. Heat rushes everywhere I do not need it to be in the midst of this murderous night. But what I said, and his answer, they are fire, somehow. It’s hitting me in all the wrong, dirty, immoral ways.

“First, kill her. Same as I did, almost. Hold her hair. Don’t lift her. Draw her head back at an angle, expose the neck and cut deep.”

He lets go of me, and I jiggle my fingers, clearing the sting.

“I just don’t mean that… I mean, how do I kill a human being?” I shudder and slowly pull open the knife. “A person?”

“Ten more seconds of this, and I have you both killed,” Montez grumbles.

“How do you kill a human?” Dead Guy bellows, walking backward, arms out. “Remember that almost nobody out of all the billions out there, will give one shit when you die. Give them the same. People die, it doesn’t matter to us. Us.” He clenches his fist to his chest. He’s talking as if we are a couple? “I matter to me. You matter to you. That is all there is. Once you understand that, killing is easy.”

And then I get it, I do. I understand. Society wants us to care for everyone, to sacrifice ourselves for the good of all, but in the end, after we die, that’s it. Don’t waste your life.

Nothing of what we did will matter when we are gone. Why not just live for yourself. Huh.

I study the steel blade. I can be quick. I hold onto his notion of personal importance as I walk to her. If I protest, if I baulk, that may cause problems and will only prolong Alice’s agony.

My stomach churns, even so, and bile rises.

But I do it. I grab her hair. I ignore the pleading eyes. I pull upward and I cut deep, deep as my strength will take the knife. The sound of the knife going in and cutting into muscle and gristle…the sound of her breath leaving her, the spray of blood, I will never forget this.

Only I matter. In this moment it must be true. Then I let go, turn, and walk away, wiping my hand on my clothes.