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“Did you think of that when the drugs you were selling were killing kids? Did you care when that young boy was in a coma weeks before they had to pull the plug because he was brain dead? Did you give an actual fuck about anything except your own pocket?” Pres snarls, “I’ll answer for you. No, you didn’t give a fuck, but you are gonna pay for it now, then you’ll meet your cousin.”

Hot Rod picks up a potato Y-peeler which has been sharpened and the blade fixed at an excellent angle. Walking over to the asshole who is hanging from a chain fixed to the ceiling. Ripping down his jogging pants, Hot Rod takes the peeler where he starts at his thigh and he runs that peeler down the fucker's leg, all the way to his ankle.

Now, I’m not squeamish, but fuck, watching the skin peel off like a potato or carrot being peeled is damn nasty. The screams are high-pitched enough to burst your eardrums.

Pres walks over and examines the result, discussing it like you would any job you are interested in. “That’s neat. Where did you get that idea?” Pres asks Hot Rod.

Hot Rod smirks and puffs his chest out a little. “Well, you see I was watching this serial killer program on the TV, and it was a woman who used all different types of kitchen equipment to murder. It was very interesting.”

The asshole is crying for his momma, but we all know that’s not gonna work. When he turns to God, we all roll our eyes because we know he’s not going to help either.

“Let me try,” Pres asks as he holds his hand out for the peeler. Hot Rod hands it over to him with no hesitation. The rest of us watch as Pres makes a hash of the first couple of tries. But when he does the back of the thigh and gets a nice strip of flesh, he gives a nod of approval. “Yeah, it works. Got to get the hang of it, but it sure peels cleanly.”

The wailing gets worse, the blood pours more, and with hardly any skin on him now that most of the room has had a try with the peeler. I’m ready for him to be gotten rid of. I only just had that thought when Pres picks up his gun and shoots the fucker in the back of his head. Silencing the room and splattering it with brains.

“Fuck’s sake, Pres. Look at the mess you made?” Cap snaps while doing his best to wipe a piece of brain from his cheek. I chuckle but thankfully was far enough away that my hazmat suit has not a single drop of blood or other bodily fluid on it. I leave the shed after stripping off the suit, throwing it in the can for disposal, and head inside.

I’ve got a plan to make. How to catch yourself a woman…Maybe I could Google it?

Chapter 14

RORY

It is 3:00 a.m. and I am only just this moment wrapping up the suggestions I’ve recommended for my clients. I’m sure they will both be happy with them, but as always I will have to wait for them to respond. I will send my report to Thomas, which covers what I recommended and why.

Attaching the report to Thomas’ email, I press send. Leaning back in my seat I rub my eyes with the heel of my hand and sigh. It’s time to sleep, and I am well past ready to close my eyes.

Tapping my pen against the notepad next to my laptop, I consider if I want to continue with any work for Thomas after I’ve finished the contract I have at this point. Working remotely isn’t the same as meeting your clients and getting to know them. When you see the expressions on the faces of people who see you as a lifeline for their business, giving solutions, ideas, and the way to move forward, that makes my job important to me. Working remotely gives you none of that. A telephone conversation just isn’t the same. I climb into bed and set my alarm because I have a few chores I need to get done tomorrow before I pick Grady up from school. He’s in 6th Grade, and I know he would rather not have someone collect him, but he lives too far from home to walk. The school bus would drop him last, making it late before he reached home. Well, that’s what Jill said, and I know she visits her mother after they have eaten their meal in the evening.

Tomorrow I’m going to ask Jill about her mother’s condition. I may be able to help organize some fundraising, but I need to know how the tumor is progressing. I don’t want to cause Jill any more stress than she already has.

Closing my eyes, I do my best to stop thinking. It is one of my worst faults, not being able to cut off my thoughts when I’m trying to go to sleep. Terrence would hum to me quietly, and I would listen to that rather than think. A tear runs down my cheek as the memory hits me, and thoughts of Terrence are what I’m thinking when I fall asleep.

Standing outside Grady’s school, waiting for him, feels very odd. I wasn’t sure where to wait in the car and was not sure he knew which vehicle was mine. Standing at the school entrance is the best thing to do even though I’m getting odd looks from some mothers.

Grady runs toward me with a huge smile on his face. It takes me by surprise because I never expected him to be excited to see me. I return his smile mind you and give a woman a filthy look when she steps in his way as he nearly reaches me.

Grady dodges around the woman and shouts, “Hi, Rory.”

“Hi, Grady. Do you fancy an ice cream?” I ask as I throw an arm around his shoulders, while again giving the woman a nasty look.

“Yeah, can I have a chocolate one with nuts and sprinkles?”

I laugh at the look on his face. “You sure can. I’m going to have a mint chocolate one. Love that one,” I say with an exaggerated longing in my voice. “We have to be at the diner by ten minutes to four, or I’ll be late for my shift. So, let’s get moving.”

I point to my vehicle, and we quickly get inside, settle Grady in the passenger seat, and head to the ice cream shop. I’m looking forward to this because I’ve not done anything like this in a long time.

“How was school today?” I ask while I’m driving.

Grady groans. “Math. I hate math.”

“Why?” I glance at him before looking back at the road.

Grady looks at me and sighs. “I don’t really understand it, and my teacher just passes me over when I ask questions.”

“Hmm, well I’m good at math, so why don’t I help you learn, and then you can show that teacher they are stupid, and you are not?”

“You would teach me?” Grady turns in his seat, looking at me more thoroughly. “Really, do you know enough about math?”