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The gun merely clicked.
He pulled the trigger again.
Another click.
With each empty click, his face twisted more and more, his drunken brain undoubtedly trying to process what had happened.
Balancing my knife on my thigh, I slipped a hand into one of the cargo pockets in my pants. I pulled my fist out and let the bullets drop to the wooden floor, thundering in the quiet like hailstones. “Now put the gun down.”
He did, glumly tossing it onto the nightstand. “What do you want?”
I fished another item out of my pocket, holding up a small photograph of Marek. “You know him?” Ken’s eyes darted to the picture, reaching for it, but I jerked it back. “Ah, ah. Eyes only.”
Ken licked his lips, glancing between me and the picture like we were children and I had the bigger slice of cake. The fact his desire was so flagrant, even in his current situation, with his wife held at knifepoint right in front of him, made me sick. Marek was right. He didn’t care about anything except getting what he wanted.
“What about him?” Ken asked, a little too eager to get some shred of information. Like an addict, snorting spilled cocaine off the bathroom floor.
I crumpled the photograph in one hand, crushing Marek’s beautiful likeness the way I wanted to crush this asshole’s balls right before ripping them off. “He doesn’t exist anymore.”
Ken actually flinched, bleary eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“Forget his name. Forget his face. Forget you ever met him. Because if you don’t, I’ll have to come back here. And when I come back, I won’t be as civil about my request. Right, Robin?” I angled the knife up under her chin, watching Ken for any sort of reaction. His bloodshot gaze hadn’t moved from the gloved hand holding Marek’s crumpled picture. I expected him to come home in some state of inebriation but apparently I’d misjudged how much he indulged during his nights out, or he truly did not care about his wife. Either way, he didn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation.
Shoving the picture back into my cargo pocket, I picked up the knife off my thigh and sheathed it. I only needed one for the next step, which was making sure he got the message loud and clear. Besides, I would have been happy to strangle him with my bare hands if he somehow worked up the nerve to try and attack me.
“Are you listening to me?” I asked, sitting up and sliding off of the bed, pulling Robin to her feet with me. Keeping one arm securely around her, I passed the knife off to my other hand.
He laughed, suddenly snapping out of his drunken haze. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but you’re not going to come into my house and threaten me. You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do. I told you, you picked the wrong house, asshole. I’m going to find him and then I’m going to find you and you’re both fucked! Do you hear me?!”
“Since you seem to be struggling with this, let me put it another way.” I slammed Robin face-first onto the nightstand next to me. Grabbing the top of her ear, I pulled it taut, slicing through it as easily as carving off a piece of meat.
She screamed around the rag in her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes and ran down the bridge of her nose while blood streamed down her cheek.
Ken lunged for me, stopping just shy of impaling himself on the knife I put in his path. “How could you, you sick fuck?!”
I flung her bloody ear at him. It bounced off his chest, leaving a little red stain where it touched. “Sick fuck? How does that compare to what you are? Hmm? Try explaining that to your wife. I’m sure she’s dying to hear your side of the story.” I laughed darkly. “Oh, that’s right. She only has one ear now.” I shoved the blade into the hollow of his throat, pricking him with the tip before I managed to restrain myself. “Don’t make me come back here. Who knows what I’ll cut off next time.”
Even in his drunken stupor, Ken’s wide eyes seemed to get the message. He ground his teeth together and glared at me once he knew he wasn’t dying. At least not at that moment.
Wiping his wife’s blood off of my knife and onto the comforter, I gave him one last glance and exited the bedroom, making my way up to the third story again.
Pushing open the same window I entered through, I secured a grappling hook on the ledge and gave a sharp tug before sliding down the black rope. Landing on my feet a few seconds later, I peeled the balaclava off and donned the knit hat and my peacoat.
Unhooking Nadia, I pocketed her Kong and we walked away from the house without looking back, leaving the hook and rope behind.
As we strolled back onto the sidewalk, a sense of accomplishment buoyed my steps. It wasn’t complete satisfaction but it was enough to tide me over until Sergei’s dealings with him were done.
Then? He wasallmine.
23
MAREK
“I have to gowhere?”I asked, staring at Misha across the desk in my office.Myoffice. It still sounded strange.
For the past two weeks, ever since Ken cornered me, I’d been working exclusively during the day at Delirium when we were technically closed. Mishainsistedand for once I wasn’t going to argue with him. If I wasn’t here during peak hours, there was less of a chance of running into Ken in case he came back. Maybe after not seeing me again after that one encounter, he would assume I moved on.
“The banya,” Misha repeated. “Bathhouse. Sergei wants to have a sit-down with you.”
