She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. Mr. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. Other times, the Buick was host to intense make-out sessions that lasted until the sun rose. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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