Page 120 of Queen Of Dark Money

Theohad stopped talking afterIcut off his right arm and left leg at the knees, wrapping more rope around his stumps like tourniquets to stop the bleeding.Ididn’t want him to die too fast.Iwanted him to know whenItook something else from him.Justone more piece of the bastard, tossed carelessly to the side as he wailed in the background, sobs and choking gasps of pain interspersed with mumbled pleas to end him.

Oh,I’dend him, alright.I’dend him whenIwas good and ready, and thenI’dpack him up and hand deliver his remains, one piece at a time, to the office door ofSinclairhimself.Andwhen there was no more ofTheoto deliver,I’dfind a way to get to that bastard, too.

AsIhacked merrily away,Jasperput the phone to his ear, muttering to the person on the other end of the line.

AndItook out all the rage in my soul on the now-lifeless remains of oneTheoThompson.Hiredkiller.Spinelessworm.Obsessedstalker.

Andnow, literal dead meat.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

DOMINICK

Twoweeks.It’dbeen two weeks sinceIwatched one of my closest business partners beat the living daylights out of my son, only to find out that he’d killed the man’s unborn child out of some sense of jealous entitlement over a woman who’d turned him down almost ten years ago.He’drambled all the way to the police cruiser, revealing more than we expected to discover.

Someof that rambling led to the realization that he was not, nor had he ever been, my biological son.

Justone more lie from a woman who’d wrecked my past and continued to torment my future.

Ilet him go to jail, thinking he’d be safe from us there, butRafepulled some strings, walked right up into that holding cell, and extricated him for his own purposes.

Theway he’d turned the bastard into sushi was honestly commendable.

Ididn’t want a piece of that, sinceI’draised him as my own, butIdidn’t try to stop them.He’dcrossed a line; family or not, he deserved every bit of torment and agonyRafefelt justified in giving him.

Theman in my warehouse now had been here since the day before, whenIfrog-marched him right out the front doors of city hall with a gun pressed to his spine, not a fucking care in the world as every single cop in there laid his weapon down and let me walk on by.

EddieSinclairwould pay.Buthe didn’t oweme.

No, his life lay in the hands of someone who had suffered far more from his actions thanIever would.

Iturned on the spotlight, yanking the burlap sack off the bastard’s head as he squinted against the blinding light.Ashudder ran through me asIrecalled the way his daughter had lain there, limp, on the floor like a discarded doll.

I’dbeen unable to make myself go to her.I’dbeen so in denial thatIcouldn’t bring myself to see the truth.

Ididn’t want to believe it.SoIdidn’t.

Iignored it like that would make it all go away, like the whole thing might rewind in time ifIpretended it wasn’t real.

Iwas delusional.Hopelesslydelusional.Tooweak to force myself to see reality.Becauseto see it was to make it fact,and that was unacceptable.

Rafetook it the hardest, thoughRiverwas gunning for a close second.He’dbeen torn up over that lifeless little body of hers,butRafe–that fucker went psycho.HefoughtEMTsand cops and even slammed his fists into us as we fought to get him under control.Inthe end, he walked out of here a broken mess, his eyes vacant and bloodshot, tear tracks cutting across his face as he let himself be guided into the back seat ofRiver’scar.HisDucatigot shoved just inside the doors of the warehouse, and there it sat, unused, abandoned, still scratched up and mutilated.

Justlike his heart.

Thesound of his joyful laughter filled the room as he strode in, swinging a keychain on one finger, his eyes alight withdetermination and mischief.Aflash of rage hid in their depths, but it was only visible if you knew where to look.

Thathe’d managed to bounce back was astounding, considering how far he’d been gone when he finally snapped out of it.

“So,Isee our special guest is finally here.”Hiseyes flicked over the frightened man, his wrinkled dress shirt soaked with sweat in spots. “Ah, good show.Howmuch longer until the curtain rises on him?”

Ishrugged, reaching for my phone asSinclair’smuffled cries for mercy began behind his gag anew. “LastIheard, they were leaving the hospital ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago.Riverdrives like a grandma when he’s in that fancy car of his, soIfigure another ten minutes.”

Rafeshrugged, taking a seat on a chair he turned backwards to face his prey. “Soundslike a plan to me.Ican wait.”

Thefucking psycho himself chomped away at a beef stick he’d brought with him, grinning–no, leering–at the man before him, his chewing occasionally interspersed by a cackling laugh that would make a grown man piss himself.

Thisweasel had better not, orI’dkick him over into it and let him soak it up off my concrete floor beforeRafeoffed him and tossed him to the sharks at the pier.

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