Page 477 of The Sinner: James

I press my back against the wall, peering through the cracked door.

Slowly, I push it open more, hoping it doesn’t creak.

Luckily, it doesn’t.

The back of a male fills my view. Buffed up and shorter than me, he gestures widely, barking words I can’t make out.

He wears crappy jeans and a leather jacket that has seen better days and is relatively young, yet older than me.

His head swivels as he glances around, searching for something.

A moment later, he hangs up and spins around.

I pull back and wait.

Unsuspectingly, he turns off the lights, swings the door open, and walks out of the bedroom.

He’s inches away from me, his back turned to me, a faint light coming from outside when with a swift motion, I grab his neck with my left hand and clock him with the fist clutching the leather jacket, pulling him down at the same time.

My jab spurs a groan in his chest, his arms flailing in the air as he struggles to regain his balance.

He fails and falls.

His back hits the floor before I pin him down with my knee and put my weight on his chest.

His bones creak as I lock his neck and push him down.

Squirming, he claws at my neck, trying to grab me.

I clock him again.

A Russian curse rips through the air.

“English, motherfucker,” I bark.

He freezes.

And magically sags in my hands.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“You first,” I say, immobilizing his right arm with my left leg.

“Let go of me.”

I smash his head against the floor.

He grunts again.

“Do I look like a sucker?” I say.

“All right. All right... Oleg. My name is Oleg.”

“Who sent you here, Oleg?”

He stays mum.

I lose my patience.

---