Page 5 of Silenced

I glance through the window over the shoulder of this specimen of pond life but still come up with nothing—she’s as motionless as ever.

My jaw works with the desire for this asshole to be Rundel.

The justice I’d mete out would be medieval—that’s a promise I’d gladly make to the potential corpse twenty feet away.

Dmitri questions, “Why are you here?”

When the fucker sniffs, I know he intends for that to be his answer. Then he yelps when I remind himwhy‘Mute’ instills fear into the hearts of most men in the Bible Belt.

“He tried to steal Viagra from one of our guys!” he shrieks. “I’m here for payment in kind.”

Payment in kind?

I speak better English than most Americans so there’s no translation issue, but this piece of shit is definitely talking in another language.

Equally as confused, Dmitri, frowning, retorts, “You know who ‘Mute’ is, fuckface. Stop speaking in code before he slices your dick off and feeds it to the gators.”

‘Fuckface’ whimpers as my knife burrows ever deeper into his crotch. A little more and I’ll slice into the denim. “Rundel couldn’t afford the price of his fix. Beat the crap out of our man. We caught him in the act. Now, my boss wants payment. Only fair.”

My grip tightens automatically around his throat. As he gasps for air, his face turning purple, I turn to Dmitri who nods at my prompt and asks, “How did you know about the wife?”

Fuckface groans as I let go of him long enough for him to speak: “We got ways.”

Torture.

Still, the husband of a battered wife wouldn’t sell his property without a fight…

“Rundel’s dead?” Dmitri asks.

Fuckface shakes his head and croaks, “Not yet.”

Shame.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Make a good drug mule,” is the hoarse reply.

After stroking a hand through his messy hair, Dmitri peers at his signet ring. “There’s one business ‘Mute’ doesn’t get involved in.”

Fuckface closes his eyes as he garbles, “Hookers.”

That’s when I grab ahold of his hair.

“Please,” he pleads, but I don’t listen.

I tip his head back, on the brink of snapping it, then I spy something from the corner of my eye.

Cassiopeia’s foot moved.

Distracted, I twist him around and snag the piece of shit in a hold that sees him crumpling to the dirt-strewn ground as I deny his brain oxygen for fifteen seconds.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Dmitri exclaims once fuckface drops to the dust bowl that’s masquerading as the sidewalk outside this dump.

I don’t bother answering him, just squint through the window again, trying to see if she’s awake or if I was imagining things.

“I know, I know,” he says with a sigh as he kneels beside fuckface and starts going through his pockets. “Mr. Strong and Silent won’t tell me dick. What I’d do for one of those voice modulators.

“Hey, I might get you one for your birthday. Why the fuck didn’t we think of that years ago? I’m a goddamn genius, I swear. Still don’t get why this guy is breathing, though.”

---