There was a flash of something dark and angry--and hurt--within Collins's eyes at the easy denial. Yet despite their position, the Butcher pushed away and straightened out without a fuss. No more touch. Neither of hand nor knee. The earlier expression was covered up as the killer now regarded Givens with a cool, impassive gaze from above.

"And what of consequences do you fear, bull?" he said, sounding bored.

The killer's gaze flicked to his hands now as he examined them. The blunt nails were a little less than immaculate and might need tidying up soon. He had a weapon on him and tools nearby if he wanted to grab one. He didn't think the intimidation would make a difference to the lawman and he wasn't certain he wanted that anyway. What was the point if it was just that.

But there was that desire to make the bull sing, listen to his song for one final time, then walk away. If he couldn't have it any other way maybe he would just go back to what he was good at. That had always been enough in the past. It would be fine now, too.