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…

faced down gunmen, soldiers,

It’s just a rat…

openings, more scratching.

enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us, we

*****

know

something from her lunchbox,

a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage situation,

saying you're getting

“… But there's a reverse condition.

“So?”

your

a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round

do you

pauses in her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.

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

I assume you do want me to

could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can reckon, you're here every day or

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

giggling. “So,

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

back in her seat, arches her brows.

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

“Solana…” she hisses.

some of it dropping just this side of

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

camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on

taken from the

anything like

For how long?

Months? My sense

had a

mouthful of empanada, then another, I ram the food

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

scavenged meal, I barf it

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