“You do know,” I say, crouching in front of him as my heart beats a rapid rhythm in my chest. “Someone like you? I have no doubt you’ve kept track.”
Tom shakes his head again, flinching away when my eyes narrow at him. Yet another mistake he makes, because it puts his friend John back in his line of sight, along with the pool of blood expanding out from beneath his unconscious, but likewise restrained, companion.
Tom’s frantic gaze returns to me, but since it’s nearly impossible to understand what he’s saying, I’m mostly spared from whatever pleas come along with it.
“Will you yell?” I ask him. “If I take the rag out?”
He shakes his head.
“Promise? Because no one will hear you but me, and I don’t really care to. Understand?”
Nod.
“All right. Don’t make me regret my hospitality.” I reach forward and yank the end of the bandana, letting it fall out of his mouth. Fortunately, he doesn’t yell, although he does cough a bit before getting the words out.
“Name—name your price.”
My head tilts. “My price?”
He nods adamantly, trying to adjust his position on his knees though his hands are still tied behind his back. “I can get you money. Lots of it.”
“Ah, I see,” I say, understanding now. “You mean that if I let you go, you’ll pay me with the cash from under the bed in your room?”
His eyes widen.
“Yes, regrettably, that is a very poor hiding spot. Especially for that much money. Perhaps you should have spent some time coming up with something a bit more creative rather than being a disgusting excuse for a human being. Did you consider that?”
His mouth is open but he’s not saying anything now.
“Thought not. Now, where were we…” I reach for the revolver in my right shoulder holster. “Hang on, better if I kill you during the next chorus. It’s louder.”
“You are fucking psychotic, you know that?” Tom says, trying to shrink away from me again. “You’re insane.”
“Sticks and stones…” I tell him, shrugging as I give my gun a fun little twirl. “While we wait, I did ask you a question. How many?”
“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never hurt no women.”
“Ah, finally, a confession.”
“What? No, I said Ihaven’t.”
“Actually…according to your statement…”
“I haven’t hurtnobody.”
“Well, thatislikely correct. However, as much as I appreciate you being more truthful—”
“You’re the one,” he snarls, interrupting what would’ve been a useless lesson in proper grammar given that he won’t be talking for much longer. “You’re the one who attackedus. Without reason.”
“No,” I say slowly, my anger seeping back into my voice. “I attacked you because you followed a young woman with the intention of attackingheronce she walked into this room. Already had weapons in your hands and smiles on your faces when you opened the door, and I have to tell you, the degree of comfort you felt in doing that makes me believe this was not the first time. So I will ask again, how many?”
“What…what the fuck does it matter? She your girl or somethin’?” he asks, still evading. “Look, I’m sorry. If we’d have known—”
“If you’d have knownwhat?” I give the knife that’s been resting in my right hand a spin now as well to remind him that it’s there. “If you’d thought she belonged to me? That’s the distinction for you? Her being my property would allow her more rights than she has on her own?”
Tom doesn’t immediately answer, seeming to understand that his last statement might have been another misstep. “That’s not…no. All I’m saying is, we didn’t know she was yours. We didn’t know this was your place. We thought you was with that one fella. The gunslinger.”
I sigh, my head falling forward for a moment. “One, that’s a sore subject at present, so I’d advise you to tread lightly. Two, this place does not belong to me. However, itisrun by a group of women who would very gladly tear you limb from limb, soyou really ought to count your blessings that you and your friend ended up with me instead.”