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“What, no vats of acid this time?”
She grins and gives me a look. “A girl can’t bring the same A-game every time. The gentleman might get bored.”
I chuckle quietly.
“God, you are so weird.”
She smiles brightly. “I know, right?”
We step out of the car and into the inky night. Something that might be guilt starts to flicker inside me, but I stamp it out.
Nope, not suddenly developing a sense of guilt tonight.
Not about her.
“Is this place even habitable?” Bella mutters as we pick our way down the alley next to the dilapidated building. “It looks condemned.”
“I think it might be,” I nod as we get to the ground-level door at the rear. “Probably why Lester likes to lie low here.”
The first door is unlocked. Bella follows me inside until we get to the open doorway to a dirty, empty room with no windows.
“There is no fucking way Lester is hiding out in a windowless basement—”
“Upstairs,” I growl quietly. “The staircase is across this way.” I pull a big kitchen knife out from my jacket. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Fuck, there it is again.
A microscopic throb.
A teensy flicker.
Stomp-stomp-stomp goes my inner boot again.
Bella glances at me, then nods and grins savagely. She creeps into the next room, and I wait until she’s taken three more steps before I grab the metal frame of the barred door and slam it shut.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
Bella whirls and rushes back to me as I flick the light switch on the wall, turning on the lone hanging bulb inside her new temporary prison, and hurls herself against the old wrought-iron door.
“Damiano!!” she screams, baring her teeth in fury. “Open this fucking door! Open this fucking door right now!!”
I tuck my knife away and hold up both hands.
“It’s only temporary.”
“GET ME OUT!!” She shrieks, her volume increasing, her voice becoming tenser and more strained. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU FUCKING PRICK!!”
I sigh. “Look, nothing personal, but Lester’s been on my list for a loooong time, and, well…” I shrug. “I don’t trust you not to act like a fucking lunatic and screw it up.” I make a face. “Okay, I guess you can take that part personally.”
“ASSHOLE!!” she screams at me through the bars, slamming her palms against the metal like a caged animal.
She’s not getting out of there. I know because I used this basement as a kill room and “holding tank” for soon-to-be-dead motherfuckers for years.
“Please!!!” She starts to beg, her eyes darting around manically at me, the wall, the ceiling, the bars. “PLEASE, let me out!!”
I sigh. “No can do. But hey, you’re nice and cozy in there—”
“DAMIANO, PLEASE!!”
