It was rare that she used her hands, he later learned. She was small and he was big and sheer force wouldn’t cut it. She could punch down when the occasion called for it. But Claire didn’t like the brutality of closed fists or even the weakness implied in a slap. Instead she employed a tool belt of weapons. Lit cigarettes, scissors, hot metal in various forms. A knife, a threat, both just as sharp and deadly as the other. Claire liked control more than anything, and what screamed control more than a cowering man, all six feet two inches of him, his muscles straining, the unrealized ability to
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