King's Justice: The Knights of Breton Court, Volume 2 by Maurice Broaddus Page A

Colvin asked.
      "Like one of them high fashion models with tight braids. Light-skinned. And her eyes. Beautiful, but there was something scary behind them." Broyn stopped before he added, "like yours."
      Colvin let out a scream of pure rage. "Omarosa!"
      "Baby, what's the matter?" The woman, sheet half-drawn up around her naked body, stood in the doorway.
      "You better close my door like you got some fuckin' sense."
      "When–"
      Colvin whirred, drawing his gun in the same movement, and let three bullets fly. Two dead center of her heart and one in her head. The body of the woman whose name he'd never know crumpled to the ground. A stain clouded Broyn's pants.
      "Who?" Mulysa asked, unfazed, knowing this would be a mess he'd have to clean up later.
      "Omarosa. Only she would dare such a brazen…"
      "Who she?"
      "A fucking two-bit street thief. And my sister." Colvin turned to Broyn. "The question remains, what do I do with you?"
      Broyn's eyes couldn't move from the body of the dead woman. "Colvin, it wasn't my fault," he said more to the corpse than his employer.
      "Shh." Colvin pressed a finger to his lips. "Mulysa, could you bring one of your bitches out to play?"
      Mulysa squatted low, face to face with Broyn, the full assault of his hot fetid breath on him. A walking amalgamation of self-loathing out to revenge himself on a world he blamed for his place in life and his own inadequacies, Mulysa's hands danced with the precision of a master loomer. He produced a long Japanese tanto knife and placed the flat of the blade beneath Broyn's chin to raise his chin to meet his eyes. "My bitch."
      "What's her name?" Colvin said with the deliberation of a set-up man's cadence.
      "You don't name a bitch." Mulysa licked the flat of the dagger, cleaning the salt of Broyn's nervous sweat from the blade.
      "She looks like she could carve through a body."
      "Like a hot roll from O'Charley's."
      "Those are some good rolls. Think you could collect a head for me?'
      Mulysa pressed the tip of the blade to Broyn's neck. The brief contact produced a teardrop of blood. "My bitches work for me. Here good?"
      Broyn's breathing hitched. His face flushed with heat. He hated the weakness of having tears squeezed from his eyes.
      "Not his," Colvin said after a moment of deliberation. "Hers. I still have use for Mr DeForest."
      Mulysa flashed an expression of mild disappointment, a "maybe next time" grin, and turned his back on Broyn.
      Broyn focused on Colvin as he desperately tried to ignore the wet sounds of rent flesh. The sticking of blade against bone. The terrible hacking rasp. Mulysa carried her by her hair with not so much as an afterthought. With blood trailing along the floor, tendrils of flesh dangled from her neck stump.
      "We're missing something." Colvin pulled a cable from behind his television setup. "This'll have to do. Desperate times and all."
      He fastened the head of the woman to Broyn. Her eyes had rolled upwards in their sockets, upturned to his.
      "There we go. You head on home now," Colvin finished.
      "Head." Mulysa chuckled and then wiped his nose with his sleeve, his blade still covered in gore.
      "But…" Broyn protested.
      "Before I change my mind about whose neck Mulysa's bitch should play with next."
      Broyn scrambled out the room without further protest.
      Colvin exhaled, the display of bravado somehow left him winded. Mulysa slumped in a chair next to him, already debating if it would be easier to just set the place on fire or clean up the mess they made.
      "Damn her," Colvin said almost to himself.
      "That was a lot of product."
      "Don't you think I knew that? Things were tight on the streets as it were. This could create quite the drought."
      "Judging from what the man said, Treize got theirs."
      "Shit." Colvin thought about his dwindling customer base. There was no such thing as customer loyalty, so the