Marked For Revenge. Emelie Schepp

her limit and asked straight out if they couldn’t just fuck. He had gotten the hint and taken his clothes off.

      He had also moaned loudly, licked her neck and given her hickeys.

      That shithead.

      Mia scratched under her right breast and looked down at the floor where her clothes lay in a heap.

      She dressed quickly, not caring if she made noise. She just wanted to go home.

      She’d only intended to make a quick stop at the pub. Harry’s had had a Christmas-themed karaoke night, and the place had been packed with women in sparkly dresses and men in suits. Some had been wearing Santa hats and had probably gotten drunk earlier in the night at some Christmas party somewhere in Norrköping.

      The man whose name she had forgotten had been standing at the bar, holding a beer. He seemed to be around forty and had straight, blond hair that was oddly styled—parted straight down the middle. She had seen a colorful skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his neck. He had otherwise been neatly dressed in a sport coat with overstuffed shoulder pads and a tie.

      Mia had sat down a few stools away from him, fingering her glass and trying to get him to notice her. He finally had, but it took even longer for him to walk over and ask if he could join her. She had answered with a smile, again running her finger around the top of her glass. He’d finally understood that he should buy her another drink. Three pints of beer and two seasonal saffron-flavored cocktails later, they’d shared a taxi home to his apartment.

      She could still taste the saffron. She went out in the hall, into the bathroom and turned on the light. She was blinded for a second and kept her eyes closed while she drank water out of her cupped hands. She squinted into the mirror, tucked her hair behind her ears and then caught sight of her neck.

      Two large red hickeys featured prominently on the right side, under her chin. She shook her head and turned off the light.

      She took his sport coat from the hook in the hall and rifled through the pockets. His wallet was in the inside pocket and only held cards—no cash at all.

      Not a single krona.

      She looked at his driver’s license and saw that his name was Martin Strömberg, then she replaced it and put her boots and jacket on.

      “Just so you know, Martin,” she said, pointing a finger toward the bedroom, “you are a goddamn waste of space.”

      She unlocked the door of the apartment and left.

      * * *

      Jana Berzelius stopped at the top of the hill near Norrköping’s Museum of Work and looked around. She couldn’t see Danilo or the man with the birthmark anymore.

      She surveyed all the street corners in front of her, but neither of the men were there. She didn’t see another living soul, in fact, and was amazed at how deserted the industrial landscape could be on a chilly Wednesday evening in early December.

      She stood there silently for ten minutes, watching. But she didn’t hear a single sound or see the slightest movement.

      Finally, she accepted that they were gone. She had lost him. The anger welled up inside her. There was only one thing to do now, and that was to leave, go home with the feeling of again having been tricked.

      But what had she thought was going to happen? What had she been thinking? She shouldn’t have followed him; she should just leave him alone and take care of herself.

      There was nothing else she could do, really.

      Walking along Holmensquare, she suddenly had the strange feeling that someone was following her, but when she spun around, the only thing she saw was a short man walking a dog off in the distance. She glanced up at the apartments along Kvarngatan and saw advent candelabras in many of the windows. The sky was pitch-black and still crystal clear.

      Shivering, she pulled her shoulders up before continuing across the square and into the tunnel. Halfway through, she was again gripped by the feeling of being followed.

      She stopped, turned and stared into the darkness behind her. She stood still, breathing quietly, listening.

      Nothing.

      She crossed Järnbrogatan with quick steps and rushed through the pink archway that marked the entrance to the Knäppingsborg neighborhood.

      Then she suddenly heard a sound behind her.

      There he stood, alone.

      Thirty feet from her.

      His chin was down and his jaw was clenched.

      She met his gaze, dropping her briefcase, and prepared herself.

       CHAPTER THREE

      “JUST SWALLOW IT!”

      Pim gave a start and met the man’s eyes. He stood, leaning over the table with his face a few inches from hers. He was wearing a dark gray shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

      She looked at the capsule in her hand. It was larger than a grape tomato and had more of an oval shape than she had expected. The contents were tightly packed in layers upon layers of latex.

      Noi sat next to her and looked pleadingly at Pim, nodding almost imperceptibly in encouragement. You can do it!

      They were sitting in a room above a pharmacy, the stairs to which had really been more of a ladder. A fan on the floor hummed from one corner of the room. Even so, it was hot and smelled musty.

      She’d had no problem swallowing the tablet that neutralized her stomach acid. It had slid right down. But the capsule looked so huge, she thought now, pressing against the coating with her pointer finger and thumb.

      The man grabbed her arm and slowly pushed her hand toward her mouth. The capsule touched her lips. She knew what she was supposed to do and her mouth instantly went dry.

      “Open up!” he said between clenched teeth.

      Pim opened her mouth and placed the capsule on her tongue.

      “All right then, chin up and down the hatch with it.”

      She looked at the ceiling and felt the capsule drop far back on her tongue. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. The capsule refused to go down.

      She coughed it up into her hand.

      The man slammed his fist onto the table.

      “Where did you find this piece of garbage?” he said to Noi, who turned white as a sheet. “I can’t afford idiots, do you understand that? Time is money.”

      Noi nodded and looked at Pim, who avoided meeting her gaze.

      “Try again,” Noi whispered. “You can do it.”

      Pim shook her head slowly.

      “You have to!” Noi insisted.

      Pim shook her head again. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes watered. She knew that she was lucky, that she should be happy that she had this opportunity. She wasn’t used to good luck, but when Noi told her about the possibility of earning quick, easy money, her heart had leaped in excitement.

      “Okay, that’s it! Get out of here!” The man grabbed Pim’s arm and pulled her to standing. “I have plenty of others who want to earn some cash.”

      “No! Wait! I want to!” Pim screamed, resisting. “Please, I want to! Let me try again. I can do it.”

      The man held her tightly. He glared at her for a moment, at her narrow, bloodshot eyes, red cheeks and compressed lips.

      “Prove it!” he said.

      With a bottle in one hand, he grabbed her jaw, forced her mouth open and squirted lubricant into her mouth three times.

      He held up the capsule.

      “Here,”