Page 130 of Emerald Malice

“Shut the fuck up, mudak.” I snatch him by the back of his neck, nails digging into his sweaty flesh as I force him into one of the bathroom stalls. The water sitting at the bottom of the toilet is fittingly murky.

Just what this fucker deserves.

“No, no, no… plea?—”

His cries are cut off as his head disappears into the toilet. Water sloshes around him as he struggles to breathe, but it’s easy to keep him down. So easy to hold him here and let his life drain away.

But not yet.

Wrenching him back up for a moment, I speak while he gasps and splutters wordlessly. “You picked the wrong woman to mess with.”

“Please!” he screams.

But his panicked eyes only fuel my disgust. “She’s the last woman you will ever prey on.”

And with that, I dunk his head back into the dirty piss water. This time, I don’t let go of him until he’s stopped struggling, until his body goes limp and his head bobs peacefully in the water.

Good fucking riddance.

Straightening up, I close the cubicle door and give my hands a thorough wash before I open the door. There’s a disgruntled older man waiting outside, aiming an evil eye in my direction. Ignoring him, I pass the bar on my way out.

“Where’s By?” I hear one of his friends asking.

“He’s plastered. He probably fell in…”

With a satisfied smirk, I leave behind the oppressive bar. The air outside is clean and fresh compared with the smoke and grime of the bar. But I can’t appreciate it just yet.

I have one more score to settle before the night is over. Thankfully, Richard Ewes’s brownstone is only a short drive away.

Shura is leaning against the passenger side door of his Escalade when I drive up.

“Well?” I ask once I’ve joined him.

“He’s asleep in his bed,” Shura informs me. “And you’re in luck: he’s alone tonight. The wife’s in Kentucky visiting her parents.”

“Security system?”

“I disabled it a few minutes ago. You’re free to walk in.”

I clap him on the back. “Good man.”

Shura sighs grimly as I make my way up the steps to the brownstone. He volunteered to be my backup for tonight, and I know why. Despite his hard, brusque exterior, Natalia has succeeded in worming her way into his heart, too.

He doesn’t want to see her hurt any more than I do.

I let myself into Richard’s house as easily as if it were my own. It’s clean and utterly bland, like it was ripped from the pages of a suburban furniture catalog.

I pass a side table bearing several framed photographs, all of the same couple: a self-satisfied Richard with a much younger woman on his arm.

Men like him are all the same: So. Fucking. Predictable.

I climb up one flight of stairs and find the master bedroom on my right.

Richard is sprawled across the bed, the duvet thrown to the side to reveal his pudgy, naked body. I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the sight of his tiny, shriveled penis lying limply against a shroud of blonde curly pubic hair.

But it’s a fitting way for this to play out.

I use zip-ties to strap the bastard to his headboard. As I’m lashing down his second hand, he starts to stir. I finish the ties, then drag the ostentatious armchair by the window to his bedside and wait as he blinks himself awake.

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