Page 78 of Princess's Revenge

I chop off the Don’s hands too. We put the head and hands in a little backpack and take them with us.

It won’t betoohard for the cops to ID him, but I’m sure as hell not going to make iteasy.

Without the prints from his fingers and the lack of face, they’re going to have to look for identifying marks on the body—like tattoos.

Who knows if they’ll even bother? That place probably doubles as a crack-den in the sunshine.

He’s just another dead guy that no one is looking for.

We don’t leave any of our own prints behind and between the rain and the rats and a location no one ever goes to…it could be months till anyone even finds what’s left of him.

I’m hoping the rats go to work on that son of a bitch.

We throw the bag into the river as we cross the bridge on the way to the next destination.

One of the businesses we protect is a full-service funeral parlor. We’ve got the embalming room for the morticians, the chapel, viewing area…you name it.

I’m driving with Christopher in his Maserati. Anthony and Francis are following in their Escalades with Joshua in Anthony’s trunk.

We get where we’re going and we all get out of our cars, then meet at the trunk with Joshua.

Anthony pops it and I’m glad to see that Joshua hasn’t shit himself yet. He’s got tape over his mouth, so I’m sure the ride was nice and quiet.

Josh looks at us, his eyes wide with fear…wondering what comes next.

“Get his ass out of there.”

“Allow me,” Christopher, being the biggest of the three, grabs Josh and throws him over his shoulder.

We all file in to the funeral home, Francis leads ahead of us to do the unlocking, I’m next, then Christopher and finally Anthony brings up the rear.

It’s smooth sailing—No one’s around.

We go down a ramp at the back, through a set of double-doors which Francis unlocks and locks behind us, then walk down a short linoleum corridor till we get where we’re going.

I can hear Joshua huffing and puffing like an asshole.

His car is still at the steel mill with the keys in the ignition.

If the cops find it, they’ll run the plates, then known associates, then they’ll link Joshua to Michael. When they can’t find Josh, they’ll pin Michael Cassaduchi’s dead body on him.

Crime is a stats game. The police want this open and shut more than anyone else—No one likes unsolved cases.

Looking for what they can’t find isn’t the only reason we’re here though…someone could always steal the car—that’s why I left the keys in it.

I’m here for something extra special.

I want the punishment to fit the crime.

Francis opens the door to Joshua’s final stop, then he’s opens the oven door before Christopher dumps de Soto on the metal rollers.

Even a pine box is too good for this motherfucker.

Joshua’s eyes are wide as saucers. He’s breathing heavy through his nose. His chest rises and falls like a rabbit caught in the crosshairs…or like a guy who knows his end won’t be a happy one.

His eyes dart to look at our faces in turn while we stand over him…unmoved and expressionless.

“Do you know where you are?” I jerk my head at Anthony and he rips the tape off de Soto’s mouth so he can answer.

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