“Have a man come at me with a dagger and I shall have a dagger. Have him attack me with a sword and I shall pierce him with a sword. Have him shackle me and I’ll crush his throat with those shackles.
I’m an exceptional killer. I’ll kill my enemy with whatever gifts he brings me...”
-Savage Jack has told many an assassin.
“Don’t make me call my men to remove you.” She warned.
From the corner of her eye, Dimurah caught the barmaid, Belline, filling his drink. Thinking Dimurah wasn’t looking.
“You know better than to threaten me…You’re going to regret ever saying that.” His blue gaze slitted.
“I will summon them!”
“Why?” He twisted to give the four of them a bored glance. “Do you wish me to kill them? Remember,” He lifted a finger, tsking again. “exactly how much you missed the last ones.”
“There’s too many. Even for you.” She said acidly.
“I don’t know how many that is. So you most certainly don’t...” He took a heavy dram from his newly filled tankard. Dismissing her.
Belline, the barmaid offered him a sly smile. Taking in his sinewed frame and long blonde hair, twisted and woven with wooden kill beads. Framing a hard, square face dominated by virulent blue eyes. Her gaze lit with interest.
He heard the whisper of Murah’s cloak and knew he could’ve caught the blade. Instead, he let her draw close enough to lean over the counter next to him. Pressing it to his throat.
“This is the game you want to play?” He queried blandly. “In-front of all these people?”