Seeds of Iniquity (In the Company of Killers, #4)(15)

Nora slides her hands off the table and rests them in her lap. And although I seem to have pinched a nerve somewhat, her sly smile stays intact.

Maybe vanity is the kink in her armor instead of confidence.

“You’re exactly as I’ve always imagined you’d be,” she says, seemingly unscathed. “Young, inexperienced, mouthy, overly confident, quick-tempered, and too far in over your head.” She leans forward again, but keeps her hands in her lap; the light beaming from the dome-shaped fixture centered high over the table makes her blonde hair and red lipstick glisten. “But you won’t last in this underground world, Sarai Cohen. You think that being a sex slave for nine years, subjected to horrific abuse and death and the darkest side of human nature, makes you fit for a lifestyle of professional killing, suitable to sit at that table among men who are so far out of your league.” Her sly smile stretches amid her creamy, but bruised face. “But more than that, you’re certainly out of your league when it comes to me. So, if I were you, I’d drop the desperate attempt to trump me at my own game, and play the only pathetic hand you have.”

Her words did sting, more than I thought they could, but I don’t let it show on my face. At least I hope not.

I smile and enclose my hands on the table again.

I know deep down that I should keep my mouth shut, that I should let her get on with this, but I’m pissed and I can’t help it—she has the quick-tempered part right at least.

“Just tell me who it was,” I say, spurring her on, “who cut it off. Was it a man? An ex-lover? A husband? No?” I purse my lips. She shifts a little in her chair. “A woman then? Ah, that must be it—you’re a lesbian, aren’t you?” I grin.

But I think I’ve lost her now, gone too far off the track because her smile returns, so I go back in the opposite direction.

“Was it your daddy then?” My eyes are alight with excitement, my lips turning up on one side—I’ve definitely struck a nerve. “It was, wasn’t it? Why did your daddy cut off the tip of your finger, Nora?”

Her smile disappears from her face in an instant. Her breathing becomes deeper, exhaling audibly from her flaring nostrils.

“You tell me your secret,” I say, “and I’ll tell you mine—why did Daddy cut off your poor finger?”

White teeth bared behind red lips come toward me over the table so fast my eyes close and my hands come up instinctively to block myself from the force of the blow. I feel like I’m falling only seconds as my chair goes backward with Nora on top of me, until it hits the hard floor. A flash of light and spots spring before my eyes and pain sears through my skull as my head bounces off the tile.





Victor





Niklas and Dorian run toward the door, intent on rushing to Izabel’s aid.

“Stop!” I order them, keeping my eyes on the screen.

“Victor, she might kill her,” Dorian says.

“How the f*ck did she get the cuffs off her hands?!” Niklas shouts.

Woodard stands off to my left, watching the violent scene unfold on the screen, one arm crossed over his rounded stomach, the other hand dancing on his lips nervously.

“You can’t leave her in there,” Dorian adds with determination.

Izabel and Nora take turns serving blows. Nora is on top of Izabel, raining her fists down on her head, and while it is rather difficult for me to watch, I know I must let it run its course.

I turn to Niklas and Dorian.

“Izabel can handle herself,” I say.

“I’m not so sure,” Niklas says, clearly concerned for Izabel. “It took three of us to get a hold on her in the auditorium.”

I look right at my brother.

“She’ll be fine.”

Both of them hesitate before giving in and they walk back over to stand in front of the screens.

“I hope you’re right, brother.” Niklas crosses his arms.

Keeping my eyes trained on the fight, all I can think is that…I hope I’m right too.





Izabel





The metal chair I had been sitting in is turned over onto its side. I reach out for it blindly with my right hand, struggling to get any part of it into my fingers, and when I finally do, I don’t know how but I have enough strength with one hand to raise it high enough off the floor and bash her in the side of the head with it.

Nora falls over sideways and off my waist, covering her head with her hands that somehow are no longer bound by cuffs.

Not wasting even a second, I scramble to my knees and grab the folded chair again with both hands this time and send it crashing down on top of her head again.

Nora manages to roll out of the way just before the chair comes down a third time. It clanks loudly against the floor as I drop it and get to my feet to go after her. She tries to push herself into a stand, but the cuffs and chain binding her at the ankles are still in place, making it difficult for her to move anywhere higher than the floor.

I’m on top of her in a flash, the same way she was on top of me moments ago, with my knees straddling her on both sides.

Grabbing both sides of her head, a bang sounds when I bash the back of her skull against the floor. Once. Twice.

“Ahhhnnn! Bitch!” she screams out, her hands gripping my biceps, digging her fingernails into my flesh and breaking the skin. Her body shifts underneath my weight as she tries to bring her legs up from behind to lock them around me like she did in the auditorium, but she can’t get her legs spread far enough because of the chain between her ankles.