Charlie wasn’t dead yet. He would watch the blood leak out of each hole day in and day out, suffering until I ended his life for good. After what he had done, he didn’t deserve a quick death, but a long and agonizing slaughter.
I placed the hammer down, readjusted my tie, and nodded to the door. “Come with me, Roxie,” I said to her. Yet she sat there with her arms crossed over her chest, like the brat I thought she was. “I’m taking you home.”
She hopped up quicker than I’d thought she would and hurried to the door, brushing past me and nearly running to the car. She slid into the passenger seat, buckled herself in, and stared emptily at the windshield.
After ordering my men to clean up this little mess Charlie had made, I slid into the driver’s seat and started the forty-minute drive to
