Page 190 of Remy

I take the offering and put them on, eying the interior through the back window.

“The driver’s belt is stuck. He’s not going anywhere.” Russo jerks his chin toward the other side of the car. “And the dumb fuck in the passenger seat wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

I step around him to continue toward the driver.

“I’m going to go help Valenti organize the tarp and siphon some gas.” Russo walks backward toward the road. “If we can’t find somewhere nearby to dump the bodies, I’ll drive them to Baltimore and get Wesley to help with the usual disposal while Valenti stays to keep watch.”

I nod and keep striding for the open door, the hiss of the billowing steam deafening.

The driver remains behind the wheel, the deflated airbag spewed out before him. He frantically pads his palms around his lap, waist, and down the sides of his seat, searching for something, but his belt must be restricting his movements because the pathetic bastard remains ramrod straight.

I close in, placing the barrel of my gun to his temple. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

He stiffens. Freezes.

I jab the barrel harder against him. “Do you still think the hundred and fifty grand was worth it?”

“Please.” He raises his hands in surrender. “We were just looking for a payday. It wasn’t personal.”

“This won’t be personal either. I’ll tell the cartel you said hi.” I pull the trigger, the blast echoing through the canopy.

Skull fragments and blood splatter the interior as his head flops forward and his body slumps.

He deserved to suffer, but dragging out this situation isn’t an option when Ollie is involved.

I don’t want her to be tainted any more by this.

By me.

A faint whimper sounds from the passenger, his body out of his seat, his torso and arms speared through the windshield.

I stalk to his side of the car, passing his door to stop in line with his head slumped against the hood. This part of the vehicle isn’t under the tree canopy, allowing the moonlight to stream down on the macabre scene before me.

“Things didn’t turn out as planned, did they?” I slide my gun into the waistband holster and retrieve a shard of the windshield from the grass beside my feet.

He garbles in reply, the words unintelligible.

“What did I say would happen?” I grab his hair and yank his head up, the faint drip, drip, drip of blood from his hairline tapping against shiny black metal.

His eyes roll as a barely heard keening noise reverberates over the slowly decreasing radiator steam.

I thrum with adrenaline. With fucking victory. Murder has never felt so good because the death of this piece of shit means Ollie will remain safe.

“I told you you’d die if you came after me.” I lightly tease a sharp edge of the glass across his neck. “But to do it while I was with Ollie?” I cluck my tongue. “That’s unforgivable.”

33

OLIVIA

Remy’s expression is feral as he shoves the jagged piece of glass into the man’s throat, his victim choking and gurgling after impact.

I gasp, trying to reconcile what I’m seeing.

I’d stayed in the car like he’d asked.

I’d stalked the rearview and side mirrors, trying to gain a glimpse of him while I panicked over what might be happening. Then the gunshot sounded and I freaked.

I turned off the car’s interior light and used every ounce of stealth I had to slowly and carefully climb from the car without making a sound. And now I stand in the middle of the gravel road, frozen as Remy’s gaze snaps to mine.

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