New York to Dallas

otherwise.”
    Muttering, the cop unlocked the restraint. In one vicious swipe, Sylvia slashed the laser across his throat. Even as he stumbled back, spurting blood, she pressed it to the nurse’s cheek.
    “One peep, one sound, and I carve your face off.”
    “Let me help him.”
    “You’d better help yourself and unlock the other cuff. This thing will slice you open at five feet. You’d know that, being a nurse. Get the cuff off. Hurry.”
    To get her moving, Sylvia gave her a shallow nick. Freed, she flexed her fingers. “Got some blood on you,” she commented. “But that happens in hospitals. Strip.”
    She thought about killing the nurse, but it might involve more blood. Too much on the scrubs might cause too much attention. Instead she used the restraints, gagged her with medical tape.
    “You got big feet,” she commented when she put on the nurse’s shoes. She pulled her hair back, fixed on the ID card, then grabbed a tray, tossed some supplies into it.
    “Give Dallas a message for me. Tell her Isaac and me, we’ll be coming for her.”
    She walked out, walked briskly with her tray—and remembered belatedly she should’ve taken the nurse’s ’link. But by the time she walked out the exit, she was smiling.
    Cars had ’links. It’d been a while since she’d boosted a car.
    Just like old times.
     
     
    Melinda kept him engaged, considered every moment he focused on her rather than Darlie a gift. The nights she’d spent studying him as she might a disease that had infected her had paid off. She knew his profile, his pathology, all of his background that had been discovered and published.
    She knew he was well-read, considered himself an erudite man with exceptional taste. She discussed classic literature, segued into music—classical, contemporary, trends, artists.
    Her head throbbed like a rotted tooth, but Darlie stopped shivering and eventually went limp in sleep.
    When she disagreed with him she walked a tightrope, carefully navigating the shaky line between opinion and argument, conceding, flattering, even forcing out a laugh now and then as if he’d scored a point.
    “But I like a good, silly comedy now and then,” she insisted. And thought she’d have sold her soul for one cool sip of water. “Complete with pratfalls. Especially after a long, hard day.”
    “Without wit it’s mindless.” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t make you think, it’s not art.”
    “Of course you’re right, but sometimes mindless is just what I want.”
    “After a long, hard day. Counseling all the bad girls.”
    Her heart tripped, but she nodded slowly. “It’s good to tune out and laugh. But as I said, you’re right about—”
    “And do you spend all day telling them it’s not their fault, like you told our little Darlie here?”
    She deliberately looked up at the camera above the door. “We both understand I knew you were watching, listening. I wanted to keep her calm. To help her adjust.”
    “So you lie and lie and lie some more. Because we both know, too, that they want what I give them. You did.”
    “It’s difficult to understand at such a young age, the—”
    “Women are born understanding.” Something dark passed over his face and had her stumbling heart slamming against her ribs. “They’re born liars and whores. Born weak, and devious.”
    He set his palms on his knees, angled forward, his tone mild and lecturing. “The young ones, they need to be trained, educated, controlled. They need to learn they’re here for a man’s pleasure. Toys, really, he winds up at his whim. That he brands, like cattle.”
    He smiled as he wagged his finger back and forth. “You erased my brand, Melinda.”
    “Yes. But you put it back.”
    “That’s right. That’s absolutely right.”
    He leaned back, waved a hand in the air. “The older ones have their uses. You just might be useful with another couple decades of seasoning. They like to serve, or pretend to like it. They want to be flattered and petted, want pretty, shiny things. And promises.”
    He let out a sigh, a shake of his head, but his eyes sparkled with an ugly glee. “They’re so pitifully grateful for the attention. So calculating in their attempts to manipulate a man. They need to be used—all while flattered and petted, of course. A woman will do everything she’s asked if you dangle the bright and shiny, if you give her some poetry—and a good fuck now and then.”
    He shifted in the chair again, wrapping his hands