I Kill in Peace Read Online Free PDF

out the door without looking back.
    Great. He saw my face clear as day.
    The man clumsily stomped around the floor above me.
    I didn’t care. It felt as if the scimitar was vibrating. Both it and I wanted to put it to good use.
    Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, I listened to the man curse and holler out the window, threatening whoever had thrown the brick.
    â€œYou can stop your shouting,” I called up the stairs.
    The man’s face popped into view as he leaned over the banister. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his teeth were a lovely shade of jaundice.
    â€œWho the fuck are you?” he said warily. I kept the scimitar behind my back.
    â€œThe guy who threw the brick through your window,” I said calmly, even though my heart was racing. It felt as if I had a fever brewing. Could a person get physically sick from watching such a heinous act?
    â€œWhat the fuck you do that for?”
    He took the first two steps down. I saw the slight bulge in the crotch of his sweatpants and had to hold myself back.
    â€œTo get your attention, you rapist pig,” I said.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” He gave me a level look, playing it as cool as he could.
    â€œI saw what you did.”
    â€œOh yeah, what do you think you saw?”
    â€œNot just a child, your own son.” It was hard keeping my voice even. “You’re worse than a rutting pig, mister.”
    For the first time, I noticed the bat in his hand.
    â€œYou broke into my house. I have every right to kill you. The law’s on my side,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I could take you out right now and I’ll get a fucking medal for defending myself and my property.”
    â€œI’m not a little boy you can scare. You want to kill me? Be my guest.”
    He gave a short laugh. “You’re one dumb fuck.”
    Raising the bat over his head, he let out a phlegmy roar, charging down the stairs.
    He swung the bat downward, hoping to crush my skull. The scimitar practically sang as it met the bat halfway through its arc, carving through the wood. The barrel clipped the man’s shoulder before it fell to the floor.
    â€œWhat the fuck?” he said, wide eyes staring at the severed bat.
    â€œYou need to expand your vocabulary,” I said, ramming the handle of the scimitar into his considerable gut. The air whooshed out of him, along with a good deal of blood. He collapsed to the floor.
    â€œNo, no, please,” he said.
    I swung the scimitar, slicing the man’s sweatpants open with the precision of a surgeon, exposing piss-stained tighty-whities.
    â€œThe cliché would be to cut off your cock and balls,” I said.
    He pushed himself along the floor with his heels, trembling hands held out in front of him.
    â€œI didn’t do anything,” he said.
    â€œYes…you did,” I said. “If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
    I flicked the scimitar and several of his fingers bounced off the floor. Blood coated his shirt and face.
    â€œOkay, okay, you’re right. I’m sick. I can’t help myself. My father did it to me. Please, just stop and I’ll turn myself in.” The disgusting turd wept and trembled. Tears ran down his grimy face as copiously as the blood that seeped from the open stumps where his fingers once resided.
    I let the scimitar fall to my side.
    â€œGet up,” I said. “And start walking.”
    Pressing his good hand to the hole in his gut, he managed to get to his feet and headed for the front door.
    â€œNo, out back,” I said.
    He sobbed, “Why out back? Do you have a car parked there? I’ll go with you to the police. But you gotta take care of my son.”
    As he stumbled outside, I said, “Your son would be better off alone in the woods in the dead of winter than with you.”
    â€œWait, where’s your car?”
    With one quick swipe, I forged a horizontal crack in his ass. He