“Bend over, Tiger, the pussycat has big teeth.”
“Dog ... what did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Her eyes had changed again. “Dog ...”
“Look ...”
“No. Please ... Dog.’
They were all gone outside and I snapped out the floodlights that illuminated the area. Someplace in the far reaches of the building a motor was humming.
“Was it true about Sheila?”
One of the slats in the Venetian blinds was crooked and I straightened it out. “Yes.”
“Was she ... good?”
“They’re all good.”
“You didn’t ...”
“I don’t fuck broads because I love them, kitten. Shut up.”
“They told me about ... the ball. Before they showed it to you.”
I looked at her. I was starting to burn now.
“I told them not to give it to you,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Stanley laughed at me. He said I was only a ... a ... woman.”
Hell, I had to laugh at that one. “You sure are, doll.”
“A little while ago I wanted to see you dead.”
“Somebody should have stepped on my mother’s egg. Knock it off, kid.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Get the hell out of here is what.”
“I’m going with you.”
The dark was so nice. It didn’t show what I thought or felt and I could let my voice seep through my teeth with that same old whispery rasp that meant the game was in the last quarter and the outs still had a few minutes to beat the ins, only not many and if anybody got in the way they didn’t have any chance at all.
“No dice, my lovely.”
“Up your ass with a meat hook, man.”
“What kind of language is that from a lady?”
“I’m no fucking lady, Dog. All I am is your broad.”
I could see the whiteness of her hands in the darkness. “Don’t lay it on me because your guy is dead. That’s what you get for sending a fiancé to war, lady.”
“How about that?”
“You’re getting out.”
The damn laugh she let out was soft and nasty and I felt her hand wrap around my arm and the heat from her body was a living, scented thing that spelled booby trap all the way and I still couldn’t push her away because it didn’t matter how I died anyway anymore.
“Where you go, I go,” she said.
“I’ll take you someplace you’ll wish you hadn’t gone to,” I told her.
“Take me.”
I ran my hand over her face, then down across her breasts and let it nestle in the beautiful V between her thighs. I could feel the furry outline under her clothes, the woman crevice and nearly the moist heat before I let my hand drift back up to her face again. “I will when I get there,” I said.
We both liked the night, but this time it was on my side because I was letting myself be the hunted. I knew where I was and where I was going. The hunter didn’t. He had to think, plot and plan, then act accordingly, knowing the trap might be there. Ever wary. Ever deadly. He knew all the tricks too. He could find me, he could find my car. He could put a bullet next to my temple to say he was waiting, always knowing the chance he was taking and somebody started laughing very low and I damn near looked to see who it was until I remembered it was me.
When