Page 6 of Remorseless
Looking over Johnnie’s shoulder, Grandda nodded, then studied him. “I didn’t think I had to remind you to wear a condom or to pull out of fertile cunts.”
“This isn’t my fault—”
A gurgle reached his ears and a spurt of wetness hit his back. He spun around. A waterfall of blood gushed from the long cut on Paz’s graceful neck.
“NO!” Johnnie screamed.
“Mauricio!” Grandda snarled. “What have you done?”
Tears streaking his face, Johnnie rushed to Paz and cradled her in his arms, but she was already dead. Mauricio severed her carotid artery.
The motherfucker chuckled, the big knife he’d used still in his hand.
Laying Paz on the floor, Johnnie stood and punched Mauricio in the kidney, then head-butted him, hitting the bridge of his nose. The knife clattered to the ground.
Ignoring Mauricio’s screams, Johnnie grabbed the knife.
“Don’t kill him. My hogs are hungry, John. Feeding this piece of shit to them while he’s still alive will be more entertaining.”
“But less rewarding.” Johnnie plunged the knife into Mauricio’s throat, then jerked it out, unbothered by the spray of blood.
Grabbing his neck, the man choked and staggered, falling to his knees. Unmoved, Johnnie watched Mauricio’s death roll. Once, twice, three times, and he stilled, face-down in a pool of blood.
“Undress him and throw him in the pen,” Grandda ordered.
Once he did as instructed, Johnnie took Paz’s body to the stand of walnut trees where they’d picnicked and buried her. He sat at her grave until it was time to head to the airport. On a bus.
Not that it mattered. Avenging Paz’s death was worth the discomfort of cramped transportation.
Johnnie never visited his grandfather again.
Act One
Mama Bear
Glancing around the room, Patricia Donovan Caldwell took in each trophy. They were various shapes and sizes. Various stages and colors, but all works of art.
She smiled at her creations, the newest additions. Expressions of anger, jealousy, love and hate. She touched one of the prizes, her fingertips running over the smoothness, her breath catching at the fine texture.
Images formed in her head, and she chose her next subject, though none would ever top the recent two. She outdid herself.
The door opened. She didn’t bother turning. The scent of his expensive cologne revealed hisidentity.
“Sharper.”
“Pattie.”
She backed away from the shelves that had been turned into an art display and tipped her head back. She pointed. “What do you think?”
Sharper heaved in a breath. “Unnecessary complications, but it’s done.”
“He hurt my daughter.”
“You already tried to poison him. You pulled a knife on Joe and Rack.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “It should’ve been a gun for Rack.” She’d never hurt Joe.
“Ahhh, I see.”
