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“He probably shouldn’t pick up the money anymore,” Nate reasoned.
“Oh no, he should,” I said, letting out a deep breath.
The shocked look on their faces was quite comical.
“So, you want a thief to continue handling my money?” my father asked.
“Well, Padre, he’s now the best warning against stealing we have.” I smirked as I flipped open the box. “Anyone that sees him from here on out will ask about his hand. And he’s going to say how he lost it. He also shouldn’t go around by himself anymore, though.”
They just looked at me as if I had lost my mind. And that’s saying something, coming from members of a crime family.
I rolled my eyes. “If you see a man that had his hand cut off for stealing, are you going to steal?”
Nate smiled. “She’s got a point.”
My father nodded slowly. “Okay.” He glanced at the box and then closed the lid. “What are you doing with the hand?”
“Oh! I’m going to put it in a jar and put it on display.” I shrugged. “Probably in the foyer. Where’s a place that everyone can see?” I looked around the room, my expression completely serious.
“Not in here! Dammit Addie!” My father rolled his eyes as he plopped down on one of the chairs. “Get than damn thing out of here!”
Nate howled.
“Severed body parts and my food will not be in the same room!” My father waved toward the bar. “And pour me another drink while you’re at it!”
A smile lit my lips as I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, nodding for Nate to take the hand out. “Fine.”
