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Douglas strode closer to Avalon’s side.
“I do love to talk about sin with you,” Everett said. His gaze drifted over her. “Oh, the things I could do to you…”
Beau immediately surged forward. “Watch it.”
“Isn’t that what you like to do?” Everett asked with a confused smile and a wide-eyed blink. “Watch…her?”
Oh, you sick prick. You want to play? Let’s play, Slasher.
“I’ve been lonely in this hellhole.” Everett’s smile turned upside down. “Do you know they keep me in solitary? They do. For so many long, empty hours each day. I don’t enjoy being alone. I like having…friends to talk with me.”
Douglas crossed his arms over his chest. “The time in solitary was for your own protection. You do understand that many of the inmates here want to rip you apart?”
“Not everyone is a fan.” A roll of one shoulder from Everett. “But some are.”
Douglas peered at Everett as if the prisoner had lost his mind. “You tortured and stabbed multiple women. Dismembered them. You don’t have fans. You have people who want to see you strapped to a table while a needle is plunged into you. The world can’t wait for your execution date.”
Everett’s Adam’s apple moved in a quick bob. “That can be appealed. Especially when my innocence is?—”
“You’re guilty.” From Avalon. Cold and flat. Beau had the feeling she’d been studying her prey very carefully. Her hands were still beneath the table. From his position, he could see her small fists, but he didn’t think anyone else could view them. Her spine was straight. Her shoulders squared. Her focus seemed to be entirely on the man in front of her. Avalon’s profile showed no fear.
No emotion at all.
“Not only did you kill those women, but you’ve been playing more games, haven’t you, Everett?”
She called him by his given name. Beau had deliberately addressed him by the name the media had attached to the bastard.
Slasher. Just like a freak from the horror shows. Because he’d slashed his victims to pieces. Women who’d been about Avalon’s height. Who’d had similar builds. Two blondes. Two redheads.
Those were just the victims that the authorities had confirmed. Beau was certain there were many, many more. He believed Avalon suspected the same thing.
But at Avalon’s question, Everett blinked, as if confused.
“Which friends have you been talking to, Everett?” Avalon prompted quietly.
Everett darted a glance at Beau. Then he paled even more.
Beau was sure the prick had just seen the promise of death that waited for him. “The guards need to take you out for more walks in the yard,” Beau murmured. “You’re starting to look like a ghost, Everett.” I will damn well make you into a ghost.
“Other inmates?” Avalon queried when Everett just sat in silence. “Or…since you have been in solitary, maybe it wasn’t inmates. Maybe it was a guard. Have you been chatting with some friendly guards, Everett?”
Beau realized her repeated use of Everett’s first name was deliberate. Maybe a way to disarm him?
Meanwhile Beau intended to keep calling him Slasher because that was exactly what the piece of shit was.
“Fans can come in all shapes and sizes,” Everett finally told her. He shrugged. The chain clanked.
“Unfortunately, they can.” Her hands remained beneath the table. “My home was recently torched. My home, then Beau’s bar.”
“Oh, no. That’s just terrible to hear.” But even as he said the words, Everett’s tone was off. Because his tone held delight, not sympathy.
You sick sonofabitch.
“A man was waiting in my bedroom when I got home a few nights ago.”
Everett leaned forward. Eager. Practically salivating. “Tell me everything.”
It took all of Beau’s self-control not to drive his fist into Everett’s face. That stupid, pretty-boy face that had lured women to their death because he’d been smiling and flirting and had seemed so harmless.
