Page 42 of Deadfall

My lips twisted in disgust—this was who had scared me earlier? Pathetic.

“Oh, Pete,” I sighed and nudged the barrel of my gun against his back.

At my voice, he froze and peeked between his fingers. His entire demeanor changed.

“You!” He spat. “You bitch—”

I tsked and pressed my foot harder. His words broke off on a whimper, and he went still.

“Now, now—wasn’t it you who said we all need to have some manners?”

“Fuck you! Fuck—”

I shot him in the back of the thigh and he howled in pain. I cringed and shook my head.

“When I was little we had a swear jar,” I said. “Not for me—I was only ten—but, my dad had a terrible habit of cursing…anyway, every time you curse, I’m going to shoot you.”

“What the fuck? Crazy bitch—”

I raised my eyebrows and shot him twice more—one went into his knee and the other into his other thigh. Again, his screams filled the air and I stepped around him.

“We–we–were just–having–having some f-fun, girl,” Pete gasped.

I nodded like this was profound. “Fun.” I turned the word over. “Sure. Well, I think this is fun.”

I shot him again in the other knee. He screamed bloody murder. I crouched down near his head and pulled him up by the hair. His body shook as he tried to pull his injured legs up under himself.

“You’re right, Pete. Hearing someone scream is very satisfying.”

I shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth and smirked when his eyes went wide.

“I’d love to hear all the different kinds of screams I could pull from you, but Harry and I have a date. Right about now, he’s probably finding out the truck doesn’t start.”

Pete must have been holding out hope that Harry was coming to save him because at those words, the fight left him. He looked up with anger, but also the deep surrender of a man who knew he was dying, and was ready for it to all be over quickly. I frowned—he didn’t deserve quick. I’d planned to stab him, but the look on his face made me pause.

I pulled the gun away and grabbed his wrist. I dragged him over to the nearest tree and brought his hand as high as it could go up the trunk.

“Wh–what are you—d-doing?” He whined and hissed in pain as his legs dragged uselessly across the ground. I stabbed the blade of one of my knives through his wrist, making sure to drive the blade in just the right place. His scream was hoarse and pathetic.

“Just making sure you can’t wander off,” I said. “Might use you for target practice later.”

I left Pete and continued on up the trail. I didn’t know where the access road was that they’d used, but Harry had left a good enough trail to follow. When I finally came upon the vehicle on an overgrown road, the sight of Harry stopped me cold.

I’d been blissfully locked away in a state where my fear couldn’t reach me, but now I felt it creep up my limbs, where it threatened to steal my resolve. Harry wasn’t injured and the sight of the knife at his belt made my breath catch. He had his rifle slung over his shoulder and even though I knew Sacha had most likely disabled it, it still sent a chill down my spine. As I watched him, he casually leaned against his truck and lit a cigarette. He didn’t look like he had any intention of returning to Pete, and for some reason that solidified something inside me.

Harry was just a man. He had stolen from me, but that didn’t mean he was all-powerful.

If anything, it made him predictable. And, predictable things could be defeated—predictable things could be killed. Most importantly, predictable things didn’t deserve my fear.

But, there was one thing he did deserve—my vengeance.

I raised my gun, sighted and pulled the trigger. The cigarette between his lips exploded. He threw himself back against the truck and cursed and fumbled with the rifle. When I stepped onto the road, Harry froze, then a smirk broke out across his face and he chuckled.

“Jesus, sweetheart, give a man a heart attack doing that—I’m glad you missed—”

“Who says I missed?” I growled. “And, I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Well now, I’ve had a taste of that sweet little cunt of yours so I think that entitles me—”