Seeds of Iniquity (In the Company of Killers, #4)(49)

Finally, as if snapped back into reality, she calms down, but her chest continues to rise and fall with rapid breath. Her face is filled with hatred and pain and retribution.

“Take her out of here,” I tell Niklas one more time and then I release Izabel.

She says nothing as she looks into my eyes, but words are not needed to tell me every single thought running through her mind.

Niklas, with his hand folded around Izabel’s elbow, takes her out into the hall.

“I should leave you like that,” I tell Nora once the door closes behind me and we are alone again.

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit either way,” she says with laughter still in her voice as I approach.

Lifting the chair with her in it, I set it back on all four legs. Blood streams from both of her nostrils, dripping down into her mouth. She licks it with the tip of her tongue and spits onto the floor again.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a handkerchief or something in those pockets of yours, would you?” She smiles broadly, blood glistening on her otherwise bright white teeth.

I push the table over next to the wall, leaving Nora exposed in the center of the room. Just her and the chair and the paracord and cuffs; a prisoner sitting underneath a bright fluorescent light with her blood-stained teeth and long blonde hair and leather pants and wicked smiles.

“That woman of yours needs a lot of training, Faust. You can’t shadow her forever. You want to, but you can’t and you know it.”

“You proved your point,” I tell her calmly, “but you know that even if you get what you came here for, Izabel’s not going to let you leave here alive.”

“She will if you tell her to.”

“She doesn’t always do what I tell her,” I say. “And at this point, I see no reason to give her that order.”

Nora smiles sweetly, cunningly, and the room grows quiet, thick with curiosity and secrets. What is that look of hers all about? It reeks of anticipation; a calculating woman who knows how to play her cards, not all at once, but one at a time. I get the feeling she’s about to play another one.

“You know, Victor,” she says and I wait for it, “in the six years I followed you, I may have learned little about you, but I did come across a bit of information about someone else that you may find…interesting.”

She has my attention.

I just look across at her and wait.

“You wipe the blood from my face,” she says, “and I’ll tell you. No games or tricks or anything else in return.”

“Why should I believe you?” I walk casually toward her again, my shiny black dress shoes moving over the white tile floor in unhurried steps. “Why would you just give up information to me?”

She smiles lightly.

“Think of it as a down payment,” she says.

“For what, exactly?”

“I’ll tell you that later.”

I do not trust her. Not an ounce. But listening to whatever this information is won’t do any harm.

“What is it then?” I slip both hands down into the pockets of my slacks.

“It’s about Vonnegut and Izabel.”

The resigned expression on my face shifts into blatant confusion. I cock my head slightly to one side.

Nora’s smile lengthens. She knows she has more than my attention now.

I pull a small white handkerchief from my pocket that I sometimes use to open doors with to avoid leaving fingerprints, and step up in front of Nora. Pushing her head back with the other hand, I carefully wipe away the blood from her face.

“Go on and tell me,” I say, and she does.





16


Izabel





I want to hit the wall out of frustration and rage, but I’m not in the habit of purposely injuring myself. I’m ashamed and embarrassed and I’ve never wanted to kill someone in my whole life more than Nora Kessler. Izel runs a close second, and she seems like she’d be number one because of the shit she put me through, but Nora, no she’s number one in my book because it’s more than me who she’s f*cked with—she took Dina, and now she wants Victor.

Pacing the hallway outside of the room where Victor is with Nora, I scream under my breath, gripping the top of my hair tightly in my fists. I know my face must be beet red and maybe purple.

“Izzy,” Niklas says, “you know that shit wasn’t right. You played right into her f*ckin’ hands, doll.”

I continue to pace, disregarding his stupid nicknames that would normally make me want to punch him. My jaw hurts from gritting my teeth, my lungs are working overtime and every muscle in my body is so tense I feel like a statue.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say, glaring at the floor as my boots move over it, back and forth.

“Well you have to,” Niklas says.

I glance up only long enough to see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Back to focused pacing.

“And Victor thought I was reckless and lacked discipline,” he adds. “You beat me by a longshot.”

I stop and whirl around in front of him, my fists clenched at my sides.

“I don’t need your shit, Niklas,” I snap. “I’m getting enough of it from her. I don’t need it from you, too.”