Permission I won’t give since it would change her in an instant.
Your first kill never leaves you, and when it’s your blood, it haunts you long after you’ve entered your grave. That’s one of the reasons my father is so fucked up. He may not have killed my grandfather, but he was responsible for the bullet that pierced his brain.
I feel Roxanne’s sigh more than I hear it when I lower the gun I’m forcing her to aim at her mother’s head. She knows this isn’t the end of her mother’s punishment, she’s just glad she isn’t going to be her torturer.
I promised to protect Fien no matter what. Even with my emotions not knowing which way to swing, I’ll keep my promise. I just need to make sure the right people are being held accountable. I won’t lie, it will be a hard road, but even a man bogged down with grief knows a child can’t be held responsible for their parents’ actions. I’ve never accepted culpability for my father’s crimes, and Fien will never be at fault for mine, so why the fuck am I writing a new set of rules for Roxanne? I could blame grief, but in all honesty, I’ve worked that excuse to death the past twenty months. It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet. I’m a man. I can admit my mistakes.
For the most part.
My heart stops harmonizing its beats with Roxanne’s when she sinks to the far corner of the room to suck in some much-needed breaths. Her eyes reveal she’s as mad as hell and ready to kill, but they also expose she wishes the outcome of her mother’s poor judgment could be anything but death.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel the same way. I hate killing women. Their punishments usually come with an automatic clause for mercy. However, this isn’t something I can let slide. Not only did Sailor organize the kidnapping of my wife, she attempted to sell her daughter before killing the only person who gave a crap about her. That, in itself, deserves a much harsher punishment than death.
After sliding on the safety on my gun to ensure my teetering moods won’t cause an accidental firing, I nudge my head to the door. “Head up with Rocco and pack. We need to be at the airstrip by eight. I’ll meet you there.”
Hearing the words I don’t speak the loudest, Roxanne strays her wide-with-fear eyes to my side of the room. “Dimi—”
“Go.” I keep my tone stern, assuring she knows I’m not suggesting she leave. I’m telling her to go. “I’ll only be a minute.”
My reassurance that I won’t torture her mother for hours on end does little to ease the heavy groove between her brows, but it does get her feet moving.
After glancing at Sailor for the quickest second, she makes a beeline for the door. Even with my pulse booming in my ears, I hear Rocco exhale when Roxanne breaks into the dimly lit corridor. He was waiting with three body bags, confident no amount of pleading would see Roxanne’s family escape conviction for the second time.
Roxanne’s gall ensures he will only need two.
Once the door closes with Roxanne on the other side, I devote all my attention to her mother. I want to maim, I want to kill, but more than any of that, I want to give Fien’s mother the burial she deserves.
I’m not a religious man, but Audrey’s family is. Until her body is returned to the ground, her soul won’t rest. I’m happy to give them closure if it means they won’t contest Fien’s custody. They’d never win, but the less I have to worry about, the easier it will be for Fien to settle once she’s returned.
“Where is Audrey buried?” My words are somewhat calm for how hot my veins feel. I’m seconds from blowing my top, but I am showing restraint, the shackle of my go-to emotion solely for Fien… and perhaps Roxanne.
When Sailor’s eyes lift to mine, I realize just how fucked she is, and for once, her undoing has nothing to do with me or my crew. She’s been taken by demons way worse than a man’s possessiveness. Drugs fuck you over in a way no man can. She’s lost to it, completely fucking gone.
“I don’t know—”
“Wheredid you burymy wife!”
She recoils at my shouted words, but they get her talking better than my fists ever could. “I took your daughter to get checked over. When I returned, your wife was gone.”
I don’t know her well enough to know if she’s lying or not, but I do know one thing, pretending she gives a shit about Fien won’t sit well with me. She didn’t care about my daughter when she was forcefully removed from her mother’s stomach weeks too early. She didn’t care that her daughter was emotionally abused by her husband. She cares about no one but herself. The way she treated Roxanne her entire life is proof of this.
If Audrey hadn’t arrived at Slice of Salt when she did, who’s to say Sailor wouldn’t have gone ahead with the original plan to sell Roxanne. She said it herself, Rimi wanted anyone. That anyone could have been Roxanne, and for some reason, that annoys me more than knowing she’s responsible for Audrey’s death. Don’t ask me why. It’s fucked for me even to think this way, but I’m merely being honest—for once.
Sailor’s eyes shift from her dead husband to me when I drag a chair over from the side of the room. I balance one of the chair’s legs onto her ring finger before taking a seat. Her tear-choked scream is similar to the one Roxanne’s suitor released earlier tonight when I removed the finger he sneakily dragged up Roxanne’s arm. He thought the severity of his punishment didn’t fit his crime. I believed otherwise. He’ll think twice before he ever touches something he doesn’t own again.
If I truly believed Sailor had more information than a standard bottom-dweller in this industry, I’d torture her for the next several hours until she spilled the beans. Since I’m aware that isn’t the case, I use her open mouth to my advantage.
When I ram the barrel of my gun down her throat, it shuts her up in an instant and has her paying careful attention to everything I say. Although I don’t have a lot to say, it’s best for her to listen. Paying attention is the highest form of respect. Without it, there will be no possibility of me offering her any leniency.
I don’t mean from death, her expiration date is well past perished. I’m merely proposing a quick, clean death compared to letting Clover have his way with her. He won’t rape her, that isn’t his kink, but he’ll be more than happy to add additional splits to her cheeks.
“This is your last chance, Sailor.” I speak slow to ensure the hammering of her heart doesn’t affect her ability to hear me. “Where did you bury my wife?”
Three
Roxanne
When the ricochet of a bullet being fired booms into my ears, I grip a designer dress so firmly, its pricy threads pop. I’m on the third level of Dimitri’s New York compound, packing for a trip to God knows where. However, I still know the direction the noise came from. Not only did the devastating vibration tickle my toes, it also chipped away a piece of my soul like it did when my father carried Uncle Mike out of my grandparents’ barn a decade ago.
