Page 115 of Charity's Redemption

“This is a disaster.” I turned her so I could look at her back. “I need to call the clean-up crew.”

“No.” She put her hand on my arm. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re hurt, and there is blood everywhere. There is no way we will get our evidence out of here.”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head, swallowing. “I have a plan. Just stick to it and help me, and we’ll be alright.”

“At least, let me look at it. Then we need to leave. The cops will swarm this place in no time with the sound of gunfire.”

“Nico, no one lives here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he didn’t buy the penthouse as his first investment. He bought the whole complex. It’s a giant empty building.”

“How do you know that?”

She sighed as she walked into the kitchen with me on her heels. “Call it the rule of deduction.”

I grabbed her and pulled her to a halt. “Explain.”

“There is never anyone in the parking garage, no one ever exits the building, and I’ve never seen a doorman or security anywhere. He doesn’t get to dictate the security of a whole building… unless he owns it.”

Charity pulled her good arm out of my grip and gathered the dishes from the counter, hissing as her left arm moved about.

“Let me do that,” I said, taking the plates from her.

She shrugged, walking down the hall as I scraped off the food into the disposal and placed each item into the empty dishwasher until there was no evidence of a dinner party remaining.

“Ah-ha.”

“What?” I glanced at her as she walked back into the room

She’d wiped down her face, cleaning her wig and body of any blood that’d gotten on her skin, and held a large roll of gray industrial tape in her hands.

“Tape me up will you?” She held it out for me, along with the cloth she’d used when she laid down next to Zoe.

I took it and taped the cloth to her shoulder to help staunch the flow of blood, running extra-long strips across her chest and around her arm, then draped my suit jacket over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile.

Charity sprayed bleach cleaner across the counters, wiping them down as I finished up, then ran the dishwasher.

I never thought we’d make the perfect clean-up crew.

“How do you know how to do all of this?”

“I grew up with a detective, remember? I’m on the lookout for what they look for—always logging it to memory.”

I remembered. I just didn’t think she was so attentive at such a young age or able to hyper-focus during times of extreme stress and pain.

She was something else. A unique being, rare on this earth, highly undervalued.

We gave the kitchen a once-over, ensuring everything appeared spotless and sterile like a hospital room, then followed Charity into the living room.

I walked past Adams' dead corpse grimacing as I took in his bloodied neck. It looked as though a vicious animal attacked him, tearing him to shreds without remorse.

She bent over the guard with the knife sticking out of his throat, wiped down the handle, and then the pistols.

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