Page 69

Colt at once remembered why he loathed this person. “Whose hand is that?”

“Oh, do you want it? I was thinking about giving it to you, actually. I have the other one, as well.”

It was a small hand, thin fingers with long nails and pallid skin, preserved, likely taken from a corpse. “Who does it belong to?" he said, even less patient now.

“The girl you killed. Melissa Mallory.”

Colt ground his teeth and glowered. “Why do you have it?”

Geoffrey tilted his head, confused. “Because I wanted it, obviously. It makes a nice souvenir, don’t you think?”

“How did you even get it? You’re not allowed out of the building.”

“That would be telling.”

“A year ago, I would have killed you where you stood for this.”

Geoffrey smiled, and his eyes widened manically. Eagerly. “Perhaps we are not as similar as I thought, Mr. Colt. But then, I can’t say I am disappointed. This may be even better.”

“And people think I’m psychotic.”

“You should be glad,” said Geoffrey. “I wouldn’t let you talk to me that way if I did not like you, Mr. Colt.”

“I’m not afraid of your uncle, idiot.”

“Oh, I know. Honestly, that is the most annoying thing about being his nephew. Everyone thinks they should be afraid of him. It tries my patience, sometimes. People are afraid of you, though, aren’t they? How do you manage that, exactly?”

“Get the fuck away from me before I break both your legs and throw you in your uncle’s pool.”

“Intimidation. Charming. I’ll keep that in mind.” Surprisingly, he actually left Colt alone. The other people in the hallway were quick to get out of Geoffrey’s way.