Violet Grenade(100)

Madam Karina, lady that she is, rears her head back and spits on me. "I should have known better than to bring in Detroit street trash. Eric should have left you for my sister to scoop off the sidewalk."

I palm her face and shove backward. She moans and clenches her eyes shut. "I'll tell you a secret, madam. I am more than mere street trash. I'm a killer. Me. Not Cain." I nod to show her it's true. "That's right. These two hands killed half a dozen men. Maybe more. I lost count after a while. One could say I'm a man-killing connoisseur."

Cain growls and throws a fist into the couch near the madam's head. "Just tell us where Poppet is and we'll leave." 

I'll do no such thing, but I still raise my hands and wave toward the kitchen. "Get this scoundrel a kitchen towel. I can't stand her drooling."

Cain starts to leave, but I stop him with a word. "Bag."

He pauses, wondering how far I'll go without him there to supervise. In the end, he tosses me the backpack and leaves the room.

I withdraw the smaller knife and lay it across my hands on display. "I'll start by cutting you on the hands and arms. You'll bleed a lot, and it will certainly hurt. But it won't do too much damage. You can trust me on this." I show her the inside of my forearm as evidence-the Xs crossing my skin, the scars that memorialize the men I killed. I kept accurate count … for a while. "Where's Poppet?" I ask, giving her one more chance.

"You'll never make it out of here," Madam Karina growls, blood dripping down her chin. "I'll have you in the end. Another jailbird to sing for me."

I round her body and drag the blade across the back of her left hand. It opens without complaint and drips scarlet onto the wood floor. Madam Karina cries for me to stop. But I can't. Not until there's a matching one on the other hand.

There we go.

Much better.

Cain reappears with the dishtowel and tosses it into Madam Karina's lap.

"Go ahead, pick it up," I laugh. "What, you don't want it?"

Madam Karina hangs her head. "You have my hands tied, you dirt. You filth. Tell me, Domino, did you wonder who took the money from your dresser drawer? Did you think Mr. Hodge wouldn't find it?"

This takes me by surprise for a moment, but the reaction doesn't stick. I flip the knife in my hand like a skilled butcher and take it to her forearm this time, press the point against her age-marked skin, but don't press down. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you. Where is Poppet?"

She shakes her head as her blood drip-drops.

"What I did to your mouth? To your hands? That was child's play. I'm gonna show you how I really make people hurt."

I push the knife a touch in as Cain watches, face twisted with horror and desire. He's disgusted by what I'm doing, and yet he wants this as much as I do. Kick a dog one too many times …

I begin dragging the knife up her arm-

The front door crashes open.

In walks Eric, arm around Poppet's waist, gun held to her head.





Chapter Sixty-Five

Deal with the Devil

When Madam Karina sees him, she laughs, blood dripping from between her lips. "What perfect timing, Eric, my dear. Most dramatic."

"Don't touch her." I take a step toward Eric, but he jabs the barrel of his gun deeper into Poppet's side, causing the girl to whimper.

Cain attempts to creep around the perimeter of the room unseen, but it's like trying to ignore an avalanche. Eric points the gun at Cain. "Don't even think about it. I'd like nothing more than to hurt you right now. My patroller told me what you did to him."

"Tell us what you want," I say to Madam Karina.

She grimaces. "You pulled out my damn tooth, and now you want to negotiate?"

There's no telling how sinister a proposal the madam would offer, but now that the idea's presented, I jump. I'm not afraid of her. I'm not afraid of anyone. I'm not even afraid of death, and that's a marvelous thing. You are never more lethal than when you hold death in your lap, kiss its sickly forehead, and smooth back its hair.

"That's right. Let's negotiate," I say. "I want Poppet and Cain to leave here unharmed. I want you to forget they ever existed."



       
         
       
        

"Domino, don't," Poppet mutters, her eyes closed against Eric's gun.

She knows what I'm offering-my head on a platter for Madam Karina to place on display. Domino the Betrayer. See what happens to those who slight her? Poppet thinks I'm being serious, because she sees Domino when she looks at me. She doesn't know that Domino is asleep, and I'd kill everyone in this room if it meant protecting my sleeping beauty.