Vendetta in Death (In Death #49)(77)

“I don’t see the caveat.”

“No coffee—and you’re in bed, sleeping, inside two hours.”

“How am I supposed to work without coffee?”

He gave her a pat on the butt. “Inner strength.”

While Eve worked and Roarke poked, Arlo Kagen sat on his usual barstool in his usual bar drinking his usual beer and a bump.

In fact his third beer and bump of the evening. The bar—a hole-in-the-wall called Nowhere—served cheap greasy food the booze helped slide down.

Arlo had already finished his mystery meat burger and limp soy fries while he bitched and belched at the Yankees versus Red Sox on the screen.

He didn’t give half a rat’s ass about baseball, considered it a pussy game, but the bartender refused to switch to Arena Ball.

He slurped up more beer, considered ordering some nachos, then noticed the woman come in.

Looked like a street-level whore to him, with the skirt up to her crotch, the fishnet stockings, the tight sweater with half her boobs—nice boobs—spilling out.

She had a lot of purple hair tumbling around to hide half her face—trying to hide the ugly pucker of a scar slashed down her right cheek.

Not much to write home about from the neck up, he thought. But she had it going on from the neck down. In Arlo’s view a woman’s face didn’t much matter when sex was all they were really good for.

He could use a quick bang, if the price was right.

She slid on the stool beside his, ordered a beer in a squeaky voice.

Since she looked like she’d come cheap, and a cheap BJ suited him better than a pussified ball game, he gave the bartender the sign.

“Put it on my tab.”

She looked at Arlo with grateful brown eyes from under the purple hair. “Thanks, handsome.”

“No problem. Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“New turf for me. Just taking a load off. Slow night.” She took a tiny sip of the beer set in front of her, gave him a little flirt. “You come in here a lot?”

“Most nights.”

“I guess I’ll come in more now that I know you hang here.” She took another tiny sip of beer. “Maybe you wanna party?”

“Might. What’s the rate?”

She gave him a smile, ducked her head, tapped a finger on the beer. “You already made a down payment.” She took another sip as she reached over, pressed her hand to his crotch. “You want more, why don’t you finish your beer?”

She leaned in, leaned close. His gaze fixed on her breasts. He didn’t see her pour the contents of a vial in his shot glass.

“Then we can go outside, work out the rate.”

A hell of a lot better than a ball game, he decided. He drained his beer, tossed back the bump. “Let’s go.”

They walked out together, his hand squeezing her ass—and her hand signaling the droid and car on the device in her little purse.

He started to stumble before they reached the corner. She just laughed, held him up, steered him to the waiting car.

“Let’s go for a ride, big guy.”

“Give you a ride. Give you a helluva ride, bitch.”

He passed out before she gave him the second dose. Deciding better safe than sorry, she pinched his nose, tipped back his head, and poured the sedative down his throat.

Pleased, Darla settled back, conserving her energy for the main event.





16


The dreams came, sliding in like curling fingers of fog over a pool of exhaustion. In them she heard the screams of the tortured and tormented rising shrill behind a wide black door. Duty bound, she fought to open it, to break it down, to find the way through while the screams pounded in her head.

Behind her, above her, around her, a voice, calm and quiet as a spring breeze, spoke.

“They get what they deserve.”

“It’s not for you to say.”

“Why not? Why do you get to decide?”

“I don’t.” Pulling her weapon, Eve clicked it on full, blasted it at the door. “The law does.”

“Who makes the law? Men.” The single word snarled. “And you do their bidding.”

“Try that bullshit on somebody else.” Disgusted, Eve searched along the wall, stark white against the black door, for another opening.

Those screams, never ceasing, ripped at her.

“You defend them, even knowing what they are, you stand for them. I stand for the women they abused. I stand for their victims.”

She couldn’t find a way in, couldn’t find a way to stop the screaming.

“You stupid, self-righteous bitch! You’ve made them victims.” She pounded a fist on the wall, took a running leap to kick at the door. Black against white. White against black.

“I bring them justice. They suffer, then their suffering ends. Their victims suffer endlessly. You know! How can you defend them? How, when you know what they’ve done? When it was done to you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

She whirled around, furious to find herself in a small room, an empty room, only the white walls, the single black door. “I’m going to find you. I’m going to stop you. I’m going to put you in a cage.”

“Why do you care about them?”

The voice, so reasonable, came from everywhere.