Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(71)

“Take it easy, Victor. We have work to do,” said Joseph. He took one of the syringes and sat next to Brandon, searching for a vein in my brother’s thin arm. I watched the needle probe fruitlessly.

Brandon smiled cheerfully. “Sorry. I used those up about ten years ago.”

“Shut up.” Joseph checked the other arm, to no avail.

Brandon giggled, hysteria under the levity. “I’m trying to cooperate. I really am.”

“Goddamn junkie,” Joseph exclaimed. He kicked the coffee table in frustration, knocking ashtrays and detritus and the open leather case onto the floor. I watched one of the syringes roll. It came to rest near my feet. I looked at it. A thin, translucent cylinder, the metallic needle jutting out. Almost invisible against the floor.

I stretched a leg out, grazing the syringe with my foot.

“Try his leg,” suggested Victor. None of the three were looking my way as I inched the syringe closer. They were all staring down at Brandon like he was a puzzle of some kind. Joseph rolled up a pants leg and probed around the ankle, then slid the needle carefully into Brandon’s leg. Brandon’s eyes softened with involuntary pleasure. He sagged back on the couch as I used my outstretched foot to work the syringe closer. Everyone’s eyes still on my brother as he breathed heavily, deep down in the stupefying pleasure of the drug. I leaned down quickly as they moved away from my brother.

I sat up. “Victor,” I said. “That’s your name, right?”

The big guy looked over at me. “Why?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who did that to Karen.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“What does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Okay, why not, then? Sure.”

“It was you?”

He nodded slowly. “She begged, you know. You should have heard her beg.”

“And you liked that.”

He wasn’t bothering to pretend. Gave me that same hungry look. “I loved it.”

Behind him, I saw Joseph retrieve the open case and remove another syringe. He didn’t seem to notice one was missing. For the first time in my life I was grateful for Brandon’s addiction. Addiction equaled tolerance. Right now, tolerance equaled life. The more he could take, the longer he could stay alive. The question was how much. He could handle a far greater dose than a normal person. Maybe a second syringe, or a third if he was very lucky. I doubted anyone could take more than that. And there had been six in the case. They’d keep shooting into his unconscious body until his breathing stopped.

If I was going to do anything, I had to hurry.

I didn’t see any good options. But I had to do something. Even if that meant a great deal of extra pain for the slimmest of chances.

I made up my mind.

“You like hurting women?” I asked Victor.

He smiled, revealing a crooked overbite. I wondered how many women had turned down his advances over the years. “I like hurting everyone.”

“Think you could hurt me?”

He heard the challenge in my voice and his eyes sharpened, the pupils dilating slightly as if exposed to bright light. “I think I could do all kinds of things to you.”

I shook my head contemptuously. “Bullshit. I know your type. Jackals, that’s all. You prey on easy victims. That’s all you’re good for.”

His face flushed. “No one ever taught you manners, did they, sweetheart?”

I took a guess and spoke deliberately. “Sweetheart? What a joke. Guys like you used to ask me out all the time. Bottom-feeders, buzzards. I used to laugh in their ugly faces while saying no.” I looked straight into his eyes and laughed scornfully. “Just like I’m laughing in your ugly face right now.”

Victor ran his tongue along his lower lip. His eyes flickered. “Just when it was going to be an easy night for you, you go and make it difficult.”

“Think I give a damn about easy? You talk tough with a crowbar and a one-hundred-twenty-pound computer scientist begging for her life. Such a tough guy.”

Victor’s voice was dangerous. “That’s what you think?”

“Deep down, you’re a pathetic coward. I can see it all over your ugly face.”

He was no longer smiling. “You’re about to make your final hour hell on earth.”

Behind him, Joseph held the second syringe, probing my brother’s other leg. Like a vampire. I shuddered. I had to hurry. He was angry. Close to where I wanted him to be. But not quite there.

“I’m curious,” I went on. “In high school, when all the other boys were dating, finding girlfriends, going to dances and parties, having fun—what did you do, Victor? Walk around setting cats on fire and pulling wings off bugs?”

I saw something click in his face. It was his eyes. For a second they grew fuzzy and unfocused. As though he had forgotten all about me. As though he was thinking about something completely different. Then the eyes sharpened again. In one quick motion he pulled a knife out of his back pocket, leaned down, and slashed the ugly triangle blade through the duct tape that bound my feet.

“What are you doing?” shouted Joseph.

Victor seemed to barely hear. “She’s going to need her legs free for a while.”

“She’s supposed to be a goddamn suicide.”