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Which reminded him that he needed to check in with the guards at the prison in Juarez and make sure Jordan was still locked away safely in his cell. Ren was sure he was. It wasn’t like due process or releases for good behavior ever happened in the shithole he’d dumped that fucker in. But it never hurt to double check.
He didn’t even have to check in on Thadeus. Dude didn’t have the resources or will to ever go up against Tenley again. Tiffany had cleaned out what was left of Thadeus’s assets (a boat and at least twelve luxury and vintage cars) in their divorce, leaving him with no other means to support himself than the low-level managerial job at a small pharmaceutical company he’d been forced to take in Minnesota. Ren hoped the bastard was freezing his balls off and/or would choke on a tater tot hot dish. It was the least he deserved.
Richter, not so sadly, had died shortly after Ren redistributed his money. He’d suffered a stroke while in the, um, company of a prostitute in a cheap motel in the red-light district. It was rumored that his wife and the prostitute were working together and had planned his murder to look like a stroke, but there was no proof of such a thing.
None that anyone would ever find, of course. Pharmacy records were disturbingly easy to alter and delete.
But regardless, at least for tonight, it looked like Tenley and Knox, Mrs. Fulkerson, and even Lark were living the kind of normal, safe life someone like him had never and would never have for himself.
Not that he’d even know how to handle happiness if it walked up and slapped him across the—
The computer he had monitoring the dark web dinged, letting him know an alert had surfaced. That was unusual. No one on his list usually popped up on the dark web. Was someone trying to kill Knox again? Had Tenley conned someone who thought they could find someone on the dark web to hurt her? Surely no one hated a simple schoolteacher like Mrs. Fulkerson enough to mention her on the dark web.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Some asshole was after Lark.
Not on my watch, motherfucker, he thought, grabbing his jacket to head out.
Not on my fucking watch.
THE END
