He falls forwards, another shout as his knees hit the floor hard.
I thrust my fingers into his greasy hair and press the sharp edge of the blade into his throat.
“The fuck?” Bennie barks and goes for the gun I know sits on his hip.
“Ah-ah,” I croon and press the blade firmer into the meat of his neck. Bennie hisses, and a few drops of blood pool where I’ve nicked his skin. I look at the boy. “Be a dear and grab his gun for me.”
The boy edges forward, his hands trembling as he goes for the gun. His blue eyes are puffy and red, and I can see welts on his pale skin where the collar has dug in.
“Chuck it over there,” I say, and he complies quickly. “Now, grab a pen and take down this number.”
He does as I ask again, writing the number down with hands that struggle to grip the pen.
“What’s your name?” I ask softly.
“Ch-Charlie,” he mumbled.
“Well, Charlie. Ring that number and say Six told you to call. They’ll help you. Off you go now. I’ve got some blood to spill.” I pause as Charlie’s mouth drops open in a little ‘O’. “Unless you want to watch?”
“Are you really going to kill him?” he asks. He reminds me of a little mouse. Chocolate curls, soft features, wide, timid eyes. A pouty mouth just begging to be used.
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in my voice. Bennie Walker is going to die.
“Don’t you dare,” Bennie seethes as he looks at Charlie.
I dig the knife in deeper and force his head backwards so he can see me out of the corner of his beady little eyes. “Bennie, dear, be quiet. I’m trying to have a conversation.”
His mouth is pinched, nostrils flaring with each breath. He can be as pissed as he wants. He’s still going to die.
Charlie rips the collar from his neck in disgust, throwing it to the floor where Bennie kneels. “I don’t want to watch.” He looks at me, and he seems to have found a spark of fire. “Make it hurt.”
I smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Then the little mouse grabs the paper with the number on it and leaves, the door closing softly behind him. I really hope he rings that number. Talulla, Veon’s sister, is great at helping victims and lost souls find their way again. She sure is a firecracker, though. Takes no shit and is full of sass to the tops of her wild red curls. Great to have in your corner, but I certainly wouldn’t want to piss her off.
“You won’t get away with this.”
I laugh. “Oh, Bennie. You have no idea who I am, do you?”
If he did, he wouldn’t be so brazen.
“Some trumped-up little whore who’s going to meet a sticky end.”
Keeping my hand twisted in the strands of his hair, I walk around him into his line of sight.
“Echo Fucking Nolan.” A sneer curls his lips as he drinks in my face. “Or should that be Echo Fucking Quinn?”
“Hey Bennie, how ya doin’?” I say cheerfully, despite the fact that this fucker knows my real name. I’m moderately impressed, but I know Bennie is good at collecting information. Wonder who he made a deal with to find out my real name?
“When your father hears about this—”
I twist the strands of his hair between my fingers, and he yelps. “He’ll be thanking me. Do you know why?”
Bennie stays silent. Wise move.
“Because I know your dirty little secret. Poor Charlie was the tip of the fucking iceberg. Shouldn’t have made money off secrets that didn’t belong to you.”
He takes a deep breath and looks me dead in the eye. “What do you want?”
