BooksBarbecue
Back We Were Killers Once
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

Beaufort looked at Carlo to gauge his response to this interaction. He had regretted the way he’d let himself run on over at Carlo’s place, and wanted Carlo to understand he was capable of whatever it took to accomplish his purpose. He wanted Carlo to know that women didn’t treat him the way Brigid Quinn treated him. Beaufort summoned up all the persuasion he had and said once more, “Now. In the bedroom.”

She only had so much fight in her, a muscle weakened from disuse, and it was gone now. As she turned to go Beaufort playfully swatted her rear end, at which she almost smiled. Then he grabbed the duct tape he’d left on the coffee table, and jerked a chair out from the dining room table nearby. “Sit,” he said to Carlo.

“You don’t have to do this,” Carlo said, as he obeyed.

“You don’t have to do this,” Beaufort repeated Carlo’s words, and this time didn’t hide the mocking. “Do you know every time that line appears in every movie ever made it never convinces anyone?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Carlo whispered.

“Now who’s bullshitting?” Beaufort said as he pulled Carlo’s hands behind the chair and duct-taped his wrists together. “You think I wanted it to happen this way? I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut but no, you had to talk about Brigid. The pugs.” He squatted and taped one of Carlo’s ankles to the leg of the chair, stood back up, and said, “There, that should do it for now.”

All Carlo could say was “Please. You don’t need to. Brigid will be here and give you what you want and you can go away and just leave us all here. Tie us all up so you have time to get across the border. It’s only an hour away.”

Beaufort shook his head, regretful. He was conscious of feeling full of regret, and he liked it. “She knows too much, and it’s all your fault.”

Beaufort tore off a small piece of duct tape from the roll and placed it against his shirt, then, thinking about how the duct tape would leave residue around her mouth that could be detected in an autopsy, said “hm,” went to the kitchen, and came back with a plastic grocery bag.

“No,” Carlo shouted and kicked out ineffectually with the leg that hadn’t been taped.

Beaufort opened the bedroom door. Achilles tried to get through, but Beaufort bent down and gently shoved him back, saying, “There you go, boy. That’s a good boy.”