Page 257 of Fury
“Yeah, I can’t stand Karen either.”
“In all fairness, she did run my club well.”
“Weren’t you concerned about the prostitution? In the end, that’s what shut you down.”
He pointed the gun at her face. “Youshut me down.”
“No, Russell, Karen Woodside was your mistake,” Slash said.
“I wasn’t worried that anyone would ever connect squeaky-clean Russell to my sexy club. My restaurant is losing massive amounts of money, but Blue Suit was my cash cow, my pride and joy?—”
“Then, you shouldn’t have allowed Karen to fuck that up for you,” Slash said.
Russell went to slap her, and she grabbed his wrist. “Do. Not. Hit. Me.”
He jerked his hand away.
“You’re a fighter,” he said. “I like that. None of those women put up a fight. They were too easy.” A sinister smile split his ugly face. “I’m going to have fun watching you die.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong, Russell. I’m going to have fun watchingyoudie.”
She braced, fully expecting him to pistol whip her.
But he did not.
“You’re a feisty one. I appreciate that. You know, I’m the reason you got hired at my club.”
Slash thought back toafterher audition when Karen told her shedidn’tget the gig.
“I was watching Karen with you in the dressing room,” Russell said.
“The surveillance camera,” Slash said.
He bared his teeth in a terrifying smile. “You were good for business, so I had to sweet-talk that crazy bitch into hiring you.”
With the gun pointed at her, he motioned toward the brown-haired, olive-skinned mannequin in the corner. Without turning her back on him, she walked over.
“This is my 3-D trophy box,” he explained, pride spilling from his voice. “This necklace is from Terri Billiawitz. This ring was her sister Kim’s.” He pointed to a scarf. “This pretty thing belonged to Deb Weaver. She was lovely.”
One by one, he pointed out everything he’d taken from his victims.
The longer he talked, the more time it bought her, and the more she learned. Dead men don’t talk, and she needed to know everything she could about him before she took his life.
When he finished, he said, “Would you like to meet them?”
“Meet who?”
“The seven missing women you’ve been looking for.”
Carrera
Rain peltedCarrera’s windshield as he slammed on his brakes. Traffic came to a standstill. Flashing lights up ahead had him pulling down a side street and craning to see what was going on. An accident clogged the road, the police cars and ambulance blocking anyone from driving past.
Carrera glanced at the GPS. There was no way he could get to Russell’s by car. He pulled over to the curb, cut the engine, and exited the vehicle. With his GPS acting as a map, he took off on foot, racing full-tilt toward Russell’s. He bolted between houses, slipped on the rain-soaked grass. Pushing to his feet, he continued running.
With every second that passed, Slash was in more danger. Shoving out the fear, he wiped the water from his eyes, and he ran with everything he had.
Slash
