As Chad snatched up a couple of Clorox disinfecting wipes from his duffel to clean his hands, he could practically hear the discordant gulps from all the qualmish men around the room, some looking anywhere but at the bloody scene.
Torture wasn’t The Organization’s style. Clean hits were. But Chad wasn’t The Organization. He was a man who’d been pushed over the edge. A man in love with a tight, twenty-two-year-old, green-eyed girl who needed avenging.
“He will bleed out and die, Shadreek,” Org reminded him. “I thought you said you did not want him dead?”
Chad said a lot of things.
“Well I suggest you call in some medical help and make sure he doesn’t,” Chad icily returned. “In the meantime, Raymond over there has a medical background.”
Org’s eyes shot to the man who’d held Org’s feet. “You do?”
“Ah, Org,” Chad laughed, “don’t tell me I know your men better than you do?” To Raymond, “Left wing, first door on the right. It’s Clementine’s office. She was a registered nurse. You’ll find medical supplies there.”
As Raymond nodded and bounced off, Org blinked at Chad, as though seeing him for the first time.
Chad was done with this episode. He made his way over to Ricardo, retrieved his pocket knife, and freed him of the ropes, then ripped the tape off his mouth.
Due to being shot in the leg by Rafail, Chad had to help Ricardo off the chair and support his weight as he started with him out of the house.
He knew Org would have this place clean like new in less than twenty-four hours, so as he carried a hobbling Ricardo out, he announced, “You haven’t won.”
Translation forI’m gonna play your game to the end until I find my fucking woman.
When Chad had Ricardo in the car, gearing up to hot-wheel it out of there, Ricardo stunned him by saying, “I don’t feel sorry for him. And you shouldn’t regret it.”
“I despise myself and every bad thing I do, Rick,” Chad said in an extremely quiet voice. “But I never regret anything. From every bad, something good always blooms.”
As Chad started to reverse, Ricardo spoke again. “What did you say to her?”
Braking, Chad paused. “What?”
“My mother,”—coughcough—”before you shot her, you whispered something in her ear.” He slashed a fresh set of tears from his eyes. “What was it? What did you say?”
Closing his eyes, Chad inhaled deep, then exhaled, loath to delve back into the memories of that terrible night. “I said, ‘Isabel, I love you. And I’m sorry I can’t save you. But die in peace knowing Rick and Jhay will be saved, cared for, and live to see a ripe old age. If I don’t keep this promise, then beat the fuck out of me when we meet in Hell.’”
