Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(25)

“I’ve got some things to say, and for once you’re going to shut the hell up and listen. Got that, bitch?”

He didn’t just feel happy, he realized. He felt strong. He felt important.

“You thought you could dump me, show me the door because I had a little bad luck? Bitching and whining about yourself when I was the one having some trouble. You think you can humiliate me that way? It’s always about you. You selfish bitch. And acting like I’d committed a crime because I gave you a couple taps. You deserved that, and more. Now look at you. This is how they’ll find you, naked, helpless, humiliated. How does it feel?”

Fat tears rolled down her face, added to his sense of joy.

He kicked at her shopping bags. “You’re not the only one who went shopping today. Look what I got.” He took a folding knife out of his pocket. “You just push this button, and blam!” A curved, serrated blade, just under the legal limit, whipped out. And he grinned when her eyes bulged, when her body twisted, when the screams muffled to whines against the blocking tape.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for you. I used a kitchen knife on Ma, and it slid right into her, like into a pillow. Made a hell of a mess though before I was done. I’m not getting your pu**y blood all over my new clothes. Nice threads, huh?”

He did a little turn. “I messed up two sets of my old stuff, first with the old woman, and then with the old man. I used my old baseball bat on him, and, man, did blood and brains fly!”

Laughing, he pushed the mechanism on the knife again. “You sent me back to hell. Do you know what it’s like to live with those two? Always complaining, always telling me what to do, acting like they were in charge. Who’s in charge now?”

Blood stained the cords on her wrists as she struggled against them. A bonus, he thought, and slipped the knife back in his pocket.

“So what did you buy today?” Crouching, he dumped the contents of her shopping bags on the floor, and as an afterthought, took the knife out again, dragged the blade through the scattered clothes. Her sobs choked against the tape.

“Slut shoes, too? Let’s have a look.” He straightened, shoved them on her feet.

“Yeah, that works.”

He climbed back on her. “You messed up big-time by shoving me out, Lori. I’ve got money now. Lots and lots of money. I can do whatever the hell I want. I can do whatever the hell I want to you, and you can’t stop me. You think slapping you was a big deal? Bullshit.”

He slapped her now, front hand, backhand, front, back, hard enough her head snapped side to side and her cheeks bloomed red as a rose. “That’s no big deal, bitch. I’ll show you a big deal.”

He balled his hand into a fist, plowed it into her face.

Her eyes jittered, and blood dripped under the tape from her split lip.

“You know, maybe I can get it up after all. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to stick it in you. Oh, you can’t tell me.” He tapped a finger on the tape. “Nod. Nod that you want me to f**k you right now. Nod, or I’ll mess you up.”

She managed to bob her head, but his fist slammed into her again.

“Not fast enough!” he said as her eye swelled shut. “Nod, bitch. Fast!”

She bobbed her head, sobbing.

“You want it? You want what I got?” He grabbed his crotch, then slapped her again. “You can’t have it.”

Considering, he took out the knife again. Her good eye wheeled, and her body began to buck. “Hold still or I’ll cut you.” He sawed off a hank of her hair. “I don’t like the new do. I’m going to fix it.” He hacked, sawed, sliced until her glossy chestnut hair was a choppy cap of tufts.

“Yeah, that’s better. They’re going to find you, naked, half bald and ugly. You earned it. You tried to make me your dog. You’re the dog. Bark! Bark!”

He held the knife to her throat. “I said f**king bark.”

She made sounds, and her eye pleaded with him.

“Good dog! You know who’s in charge now.”

He pinched her nose shut with his fingers, and she exploded under him.

“You never put that much energy into sex, you stupid bitch. Lousy lay.”

When he released his grip, she sucked air in through her nose, her chest shuddering with it. Sobs shook her, a harsh gulping against the tape.

“What’s that?” He turned his head, exaggerating the move. “I can’t quite hear you? Do you want to say something to me? Do you want to tell me you’re a bald, ugly dog, and beg for my forgiveness? You want to state your case now, bitch dog? Well, that seems fair.”

He reached down for the corner of the tape, pulled back. “Oh, one more thing?” And laid the knife against her throat. “Scream and I’ll slice your throat. Understand me?”

She nodded.

“Good dog.” He reached for the tape again, leaned down so their faces were close. “Forgot, there’s one more thing.”

He reached back, pulled the length of cord from his back pocket. “I don’t give a shit what you have to say.”

He wrapped it around her neck, pulled, pulled.

And felt the thrill watching her eyes bulge, watching the red crack the white, feeling her body rage and ripple under his, hearing the gurgles.

The tighter he pulled, the more it built, burning inside him. Her bound feet drummed against the bed as she convulsed, her bloodied hands shook like an old woman’s. And he yanked harder, groaning with pleasure, hips rocking as the sharp, uncontrollable sensation clawed through him, out of him.