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“I should do to you what I did to my wife,” he clips out, saliva spraying my cheek.
I refrain from adding “and your babies,” mostly because it’s taking every ounce of courage I have right now to stay calm. Rigger and I predicted he could become violent.
He doesn’t know I am equally violent, just in a more delicate way.
I hold his stare. If I look away, he’ll sense weakness.
And then there’s a noise, a low hum as he inches his face closer to mine. I realize the hum is coming from his chest.
He’s growling.
His breath is sour as it hits my face, and then his mouth falls on mine. He’s kissing me and it’s all I can do to keep from wincing.
God, I wish I could slit his throat. Pin him to the floor and watch the life leave him slowly.
I do my best to kiss him back, but then I feel his teeth cut into my tongue. He holds it still and my eyes fly open in a state of panic. He’s looking right at me, hate in his eyes.
You realize your mistakes way too late. I shouldn’t have taken off the mic.
The regret is sharp.
I don’t think. I just move.
I wiggle my arm behind my back, forcing my body to arch toward him. And when I pull the gun out of the waistband of my skirt, I put the end of it to his head and give a push so that the kiss is broken.
And then I pull the trigger.
There’s a quiet explosion, a muffled pop, and he drops to the floor with a thud.
I step back, my breathing raspy as I rub my throat. The entryway to the bathroom is covered in blood and chunks of hair.
And so is my face, warm and thick as blood runs down my cheeks.
From Chris’s head, a red river flows. It’s a beautiful sight.
His mouth is still open, like it never closed from our kiss.
“JesusChrist.” Rigger’s voice is behind me but it doesn’t register right away because I’m staring in awe at my victim.
I watch his body, his chest and trunk, and then his limbs to be sure there aren’t any lingering movements. The brains on the wall should be a dead giveaway that Chris won’t get his second wind. But I’m not used to killing like this. The trail of blood from his head reaches the baseboard and starts spreading along a different path now, flowing in a straight line along the wall.
“Tove.”
I turn around and Rigger is staring wide-eyed at my chest. “What in the hell happened to your mic?”
“I took it off.” I cast another quick glance at Chris, thinking that could be my body Rigger is walking in on right now.
Rigger spins around, his back to me as he presses his fingers to the side of his head. I watch him, reading his body language. He faces me again, glances at my blouse on the floor.
“What happened? Did he rip that off?”
“No, I took it off.”
“Good. We don’t have to worry about hunting for buttons. What else is there?”
“Just my purse in the bathroom.”
“Did you use it? The toilet?”
