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“Vedding has to eee next Saturday.”
“You’ll be ready in a week?” I sound disbelieving, but inside, I’m relieved. This thing can’t be done soon enough. If Coghlan thinks he’s going to be ready by the coming Saturday, then so be it. Others had speculated months instead of just a single week of delay.
“Yezzzzz,” he hisses between the ladder of metal binding his teeth. “Thizz neezz to haenn.”
I tip my chin, “Done.”
“Have you foun the issing containerzz yet?”
Me personally? No. But Max did and saved a hundred lives of immigrants that Coghlan and Niall were trafficking. I reply, “We're working on it.”
Drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth, he smiles. As much as a man with wired teeth and a broken face can.
“Carra’zz goin hate you when findzz yur dealing humanzz. Zhe wazz alwayzz the weak one. Never took to mafia ife like my real girls.”
Cold, calculating calm eases up my spine, filling my head with determination. Fisting my hands at my sides, I force myself stone still. I could kill Coghlan now. Suffocate him in a blink and Declan would cover for me. But then I’d fuck everything.
“Yeah, why’s that, you think?” I prod the bastard curious where he’s going with this unwelcome conversation.
“Her mother’zz daughter.” He coughs behind the wires, snorts for a few minutes, swallows, and starts again. He forces the word “Weak,” enunciating the W with a determined huff.
“That’s why you killed her, isn’t it?”
His face morphs from black and blue to the color of ground meat. The heart monitor next to the hospital bed starts wailing. For a solid minute, there’s nothing but gasping as Coghlan tries to get his wind through all that hardware. Between chugs of air, he rasps, “Whoring cunt. Carra’zz herzz zo mind your dick for STDz.”
I step toward the bed in a murderous haze. Imagining the feel of his life leaving his body.
His eyes narrow. Inside, he’s a fucking shitstorm. A whole explosion of alarms set off at once. The entire death-colored room is a circus of beeping and wailing now, and my urge to shove that damned pillow over his face makes me blind with vengeance.
Leaning over him, I get in his face, glare right in his fucked-up soul and say, “I know why your wife cheated. Any dick would be better than your toxic shit. If you say another bloody word about my bride, I’ll drag your ass into that bathroom and drown you in the toilet. You get me?”
He grabs for me with one of his gnarled-up, tobacco-stained claws, and I knock it away so hard it clangs like a slab of meat against the railing. Then I reach over and push the silence button on one machine and jerk the cord of two others out of the wall.
When the silence falls, he’s shaking in his bed. The smell of piss mixes with the other disgusting odors. I step back and straighten my cuffs. “See you at the church. And don’t forget they have shitters there too.”
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
Declan watches me silently as I leave. Tips his chin. He knows I’ll call him later.
People jump out of my way as I stride down the corridor. I’m sure I’m a sight.
Murderers have a certain look.
I’ve never killed anyone before, but I wouldn’t blink an eye while I eliminated Patrick Coghlan.
No more than a bug. A blight on human society.
But the thought of him rotting behind bars is almost more delicious. Max said there would be no country-club prison for the man. That’s already been taken care of. A cell is waiting in one of the coldest, most dangerous prisons in the country.
The grin that splits my lips is evil enough to match my enemy.
How a beautiful person like Carra came from that man’s seed, I have no fucking clue.
“Six more god damned days,” I mutter as I punch the elevator button. Cal and Colin follow me inside.
A woman scampers out, even though I’m sure it’s not her floor.
The door closes. “Did he really buy it?” Cal asks with a ring of doubt in his voice.
