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,

It’s just a rat…

more scratching.

enough into an

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

I come equipped

*****

you know what

eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one

psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage situation, the prisoner forms an attachment to the

saying you're getting

head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition.

“So?”

I your only friend,

skirts her lips. “Friend? You think you’re my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into

do you keep coming

her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.

you keep coming? If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin up to the

to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed

come once

simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that might get close to

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

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

her seat, arches her brows.

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

“Solana…” she hisses.

the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side

heel,

food, ignoring the jab of pain in my ankle as the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of meat in one hand, a cake with the

the green blink of the camera. It

single bite taken from the corner. And I

eaten anything like this for…

For how long?

I’ve no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is out of

I had

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

and suddenly I’m no longer

swallow, gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where it plops in a saliva-coated mess onto the

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