Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 52

Klempner

What's the obsession with potatoes?

I called her Potato Face when she was a kid.

What does she look like now?

Jenny was no looker at that age…

… But she matured. Bloomed.

Juliana... Never the same twice.

I scratch at my beard. I’ve never liked facial hair in hot climates, but I don’t have a choice right now. Even so, the flourishing colony of lice that has stowed aboard adds an extra edge of irritation.

Lice…

Where the fuck did they come from?

Can rat lice live on humans?

Having a fucking good go at it…

I catch one, squeezing the revolting thing between my fingernails. It bursts with a Pop!

Only another 999 to go…

*****

The boredom’s the worst. Endless hours. Endless days and nights. I’ve no idea how long.

The only breaks in the monotony are Juliana’s visits: just long enough to sit, eat something at me, toss a potato at me.

No, not Juliana: Solana.

Why's she so obsessed with the name?

How many names have I used over the years? Worn like a suit of clothes to be discarded when the weather changes and something different is needed.

I’ve never been defined by my name.

But she sees it differently…

Something skritches and I jerk a look sidelong

It’s a rat…

Just a rat…

down gunmen, soldiers,

It’s just a rat…

dark openings, more scratching. And a nose

long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us,

*****

do you know what Stockholm

something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a

a kidnap or hostage

saying you're

I have her attention. “… But there's

“So?”

I your only

brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back

you keep coming

mouth hanging a

watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin

feed you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change that

But if that were the only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can

chews and swallows, not speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that might get close

her head, giggling. “So, you're my friend are

think someone's going to come and save you, Larry? You believe you're worth saving? That there's anyone out there who thinks you're worth it? The daughter you had slated as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out

back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making you

I keep my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really

“Solana…” she hisses.

contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy make-up, her

heel, she stalks

takes no supernatural premonition to know what's coming. Launching myself at the fallen food, ignoring the jab of pain in my ankle as the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the

blind, my eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention

taken from the corner. And I

not eaten anything like

For how long?

no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense

had

mouthful of empanada, then another, I ram the food into my

Too soon. Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and suddenly

barf it up, where

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