Mindful Scarlett might not be as welcoming to the carnage as Megan, I hand Joseph a napkin. His wheezing breaths when he removes his hand from his blood-smeared neck to accept my gesture is liquid gold to my ears. They are whispered apologies—penances for his sins, not just for me but for Megan as well. He garbles out some words, but the gurgling of his blood in his esophagus drowns them out.
I pat him on the back three times, advising him I don’t need to hear his words to know what he is saying:I’m sorry for disrespecting you. It will never happen again.
“It won’t, will it? Not really your choice, though.”
Standing from my chair, I lower my cap over my eyes. I’m not hiding my face from surveillance devices. Joseph would have taken care of them the instant he took over the rights of this property; I’m concealing Joseph’s blood from my face. If Megan discovers I killed for her, it will even our playing field. It might possibly end our game before it truly begins. Considering my heart has never beaten in the rhythm it has tonight, that’s the last thing I want to encourage.
Scarlett’s hurried steps slow when she crosses the bridge between the dinette and the kitchen. My jacket falls from her hand when her eyes lock on Joseph’s slumped frame. He’s not dead—only halfway there. He will be soon enough; I just didn’t want to keep all the fun to myself.
After snatching my jacket from the ground, I stop to stand in front of Scarlett. Her massively dilated eyes bounce between mine when I remove her hand clamped over her mouth. Her breathing shallows when I can place my bloody steak knife into her palm.
“Do with it as you wish.” Her throat works hard to swallow as her bright eyes dim with blackness. “No matter what, he’ll die in approximately two minutes anyway. Maybe thirty seconds with how hard he is wheezing.”
Ignoring her dropped jaw and thankful eyes, I clamber onto the sidewalk in search of Megan.
