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“You’re welcome.” That’s it. The end of the conversation, of which I fear I’ve already said too much.
However, the bottom line is that the fucker, paralysed and gasping his agony while his organs shut down and he bleeds out, was sent by the cunts he fucked over. He’s the reason Georgina almost got squashed to death. Bottom line is that Kingsley had to die, and I don’t care that I was the one to do it, so long as it’s done and over with.
“I’ll help you clean it up.” He blows out a breath, aiming the muzzle of the firearm straight at the prick’s head.
Bile burns in my stomach at the sight, making the sound of the blood trickling louder.
Drip, drip, drip…
My own blood runs colder.
Drip, drip, drip…
Milky eyes. Blown pupils. Hole in the head.
Bang!
It’s the sound that does it. Hot metal boring through skin and bone, pulverising through flesh and brain. The sound of that last gasp makes my stomach twist into a wretch that purges the acid from my stomach. Heave after heave, I fold over, bracing my hands on my knees to regain some modicum of control.
All I can see is him. Slumped in the dark. Hole in the head. So much fucking blood around him that you can see right through his skin. He’s empty. Hours and hours of bleeding have left him translucent. Or maybe that’s what he was all along. Devoid of any real love, of anything that would make him pick me over his misery. Of all of them, he was the most selfish. The biggest bastard. He was worse than her, and still I can’t stop myself from loving him when I hate her. If it weren’t for her, he might not have done it.
“What’s wrong?” Leo fists my shirt, and I’m so quick to push him off me that the stitches on my arm pop.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Biting at him, I grab the gun he still has in one hand and throw it across the room.
“Because it was the right thing to do.”
Right thing. “Right thing?” Leo doesn’t move when I step up to him. On the contrary, he squares his shoulders and makes a point of holding my stare as though he didn’t just blow the fucker’s brains out. So righteous and filled with surety of his actions that my burning knuckles clench to beat it out of him. “He was already practically dead!”
“Practically dead isn’t actually dead. Isn’t that what you told me once? Until there isn’t a pulse, the job isn’t done.”
“Don’t ever do that again. I’ll finish what I start when I’m good and ready. I don’t need you to do anything for me!”
“Maybe not.” He nods, looking to the side at his handiwork. “But you…you took care of my problem. You scratched my back, now I’m scratching yours.”
“I didn’t have a fucking itch.”
Avoiding the sight of the mess he’s made, I turn to plan the clean-up in my head. It’s all so fucking loud as I grab the bottle of peroxide and pour it on the floor so that it thins the drying blood. The fumes are enough to make Leo step back.
“That’s going to make you sick.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll live.”
If he’d cleaned up before, he would know there are vents along the edges of the floor that lead to the draining system along with an airflow system that filters the air. He would know all these things if he ever did the real dirty work. As the sudden hit of the fumes dies down, he comes closer, looking at me for what to do.
When I carry on with my strategic plan, he starts on the tools on the table. He’s doing it all wrong.
“You put them in the waste bag, and you incinerate them with the body.”
With a silent nod, he takes the bag I hand him, and we both carry on. Neither of us talks, and I’m grateful for it because as I move the body, I’m in a trance. Every fucking memory and faint recollection of the night my dad died comes to life. Every question and wondering I’ve ever had about the whys and ifs and maybes tornado around my head, making it impossible to think, let alone speak.
By the time I’ve put the body in a bag and made a start on cleaning up the blood, Leo’s done doing the same with the table and blood-drenched chair. This is why they’re clear acrylic—helps make sure they’re spotless when we’re done. Not that anyone could or would ever try and nail us for anything we do. We’re what binds present and the past, making sure that parliament and crown remain tethered. The right people in the right roles to preserve centuries of progression. We are the embodiment of power—unstoppable and untouchable. Or at least we were before corruption and greed snaked its way into our closed circle.
Beware of the coyotes amongst wolves, my grandfather used to say. Problem is the coyotes weren’t amongst us; they were a part of us.
The thought turns into a tailspin of questions as I recall what Lucy told me when I let them take her away. If she’d stayed where she was, tonight would’ve never happened. Things with Georgina wouldn’t be polluted with all the fucking fallout.
“We’re not putting him in Cass’ car,” Leo tells me as we pick up the bagged corpse and head to the underground car park. “Put him in mine, and you drive it to the crematorium. I’ll follow behind in hers.”
