Page 155 of Kings Fear No One
Someone starving might appreciate them…
“These have real peanuts in them?”
“Sure do. They’re Mace’s favorite. Why?”
“How about I go throw them out back?”
“Oh,” Sydney says, shrugging. “Sure. They’re not really edible anyway. Only a desperate person would eat them.”
A small smirk comes to my face as I collect the baking tray and head for the back of the saloon. For the first few footsteps, I pretend I’m on my way to the trashcans outside. Once I’m sure Sydney, Korine, and Mick haven’t followed, I change course for the basement.
Mandy looks up at the sound of my footsteps descending the staircase. She’s withered away even more than the last time I saw her, cheeks sunken in and her eyes ringed black and blue.
“It’s you,” she spits. “What do you want? Come to gloat about the evils you’ve committed? Murdering our precious, kind, valiant leader?”
For the first time since I’ve met her, there’s sorrow entrenched in her tone. She sniffles as her nostrils gleam from snot.
She’s been crying.
I hold up the tray of cookies. “I came to feed you. They’re a bit burnt, but still edible.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the charitable thing to do,” I answer sweetly, walking the tray over. “The guys have been hard on you. But you were just a woman trying to be loyal to the man you love. I understand how you feel. I’m loyal to the man I love too.”
“You think I give a damn about what you think? Shut up and gimme what you brought me then get the hell out of here!”
“That’s not very godly of you. What would the Lord think?”
Her hollowed-out eyes shrink to slits as she flashes her scummy teeth. “What use is the Lord if he took my beloved?”
“Everything happens for a reason. Luckily for you, I’m in a charitable mood. Would you like some almond cookies?”
Mandy clings to her suspicions, keeping me under her narrow-eyed glare. Then her stomach gurgles and she seems to realize she doesn’t have very many options for nourishment.
“Yes,” she grumbles.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, what what?”
“Yes, please?” I say. “Some manners go a long way.”
“Oh, for fucking Christ’s sake.”
“Don’t you ever speak the Lord’s name in vain.”
My sweetness slips for a quick second before it returns with a smile so warm it’s the opposite. It’s cold and menacing as I step forward and pick up a cookie off the baking tray.
“Open,” I order.
Begrudgingly, she obeys. She parts her chapped, blistered lips expecting to be fed.
I shove the cookie into her mouth whole, hardly giving her time to adjust and bite into the treat. She sputters trying to break it down into tolerable pieces. Cookie crumbs spew from her lips as her cheeks swell and her throat works to swallow.
It manages to go down with another choking cough from her.
I set the tray down, standing back in wait. The flavor will hit her palate soon enough.
