When the Devil Comes to Call (A Lars and Shaine Novel Book 2) by Eric Beetner

If she put the pillow over Nikki, the blood wouldn’t get on her. She’d have a bit on her hand, but blood would wash out.
    Before she knew it, she was out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, the knife still in her hand.
     
    ***
     
    Lars stood from his second set of stretches. He lifted the glass from the dresser, but found it empty. Hydration—the key to any good workout. He walked out of his room to head down to the kitchen for more water.
    He passed by Nikki’s door next to his, best place for a bodyguard to be, noticed the light out. When did we all get so old? he wondered. It wasn’t much past nine o’clock and the old man was already asleep and Lars wasn’t far behind. He remembered years when the sunrise was more common to him from the backside. Sun up meant time for him to go down. Now he kept hours like a normal person.
    Lars almost bumped into Shaine on the stairs.
    “Woah, didn’t see you there,” Lars said.
    Shaine said, “Sorry.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “I was thinking of switching rooms. Maybe find one with a TV.”
    “I know there’s one in Nikki’s room, but I think that’s it. Why don’t you use the one in the living room? It’s freakin’ huge, did you see that thing?”
    “Yeah. I guess that’s okay. Just kinda wanted to fall asleep to a movie, y’know?”
     
    Shaine felt a drop of blood where the knife tip dug into her finger. With the long blade inside her sleeve, running cold steel along the inside of her right arm, her pointer finger was the only thing keeping the carving knife from falling to the floor, and now her fingerprint would have a new crease in it. The tip dug deeper the longer Lars talked about fucking TVs.
     
    “Don’t worry, we’ll be back home soon and you’ll have your TV in your room again. Although with the two million, maybe we can get you one of those monster screens for your room.”
    “It would take up the whole wall.”
    “Aw, splurge once in a while.”
    Shaine started backing down the steps. “Okay, I’ll go see if I think it’ll fit.”
    “I think I’m gonna turn in. Been a long day.”
    “You said it.” Shaine reached the bottom step.
    “Good night.”
    “G’night.” She turned for the living room and walked quickly out of Lars’s sight.
    Shaine eased the knife out of her sleeve. She stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth to suck on the blood. It was more than she expected and she nearly gagged. She could feel a loose flap of skin with her tongue.
    She entered the living room and pushed the knife down between two sofa cushions and pulled a tissue from an ornate outer box covering a generic cardboard box of tissues. She wrapped her finger, the white tissue instantly turning red. She really hoped she didn’t need stitches.
    An hour later the blood stopped running. Without a bandage, she left the tissue in place, fused to the tip of her finger with clotted blood like she used to see on her dad’s neck some mornings when he ran late. A movie on cable about a man who lived his whole life on a cruise ship failed to catch her interest.
    Lars would be asleep by now. Nikki would be deep into his nightly trip half way across the River Styx. So close to death, he only needed a small push to reach the other side.
    Shaine tried not to think about it, only to move with her goal in mind. Like any unpleasant task that needed doing—plunging a toilet, finishing off a rat the trap didn’t quite kill, getting out a shovel to scoop up the car-squashed cat blocking the driveway—best to simply get on with it and not think too hard. And breathe through your mouth, not your nose.
    She thought about the upside to a cut throat–Nikki wouldn’t be able to call for help. If she cut deep enough, that is. Press hard, one slow pull of the knife, keep pressure on the pillow, try to staunch the flow of blood and keep him from bucking wildly.
    Remember the hotel room. She didn’t think about it, just fired the gun. Did what needed to be done.