Dion

Was I a bastard for not allowing Amelia to pull the trigger and end her life of misery? To not get the justice she so desperately wanted? I couldn't tell her that I needed him alive for the sake of my money—it wouldn't have been fair to put that pressure on her. Instead, the combined efforts of me, JD, Colt, and Cleaver took care of his henchmen before Amelia killed Santini. I knew she'd want her final say instead of just putting a bullet straight through his skull the second she saw him.

However, we now had an injured, cursing, Italian mobster to drive back to California just so I could get my money. Was I playing fair? I didn't want to think about that now.

"Cleaver," I shouted. "Come and give me a hand, will you?"

He appeared in the doorway almost instantly. "Why is he still alive?"

"Because we need our money, remember?"

"But once he's dead, it's all mine," Amelia said.

"But you don't know how to transfer any of it out of his accounts. Or do you?"

She flickered her eyes down to Santini and let a malicious smile spread over her face. "Now, isn't that the golden question?"

"You know nothing," Santini said, spitting his words out. "You're bluffing."

Amelia strode up to him and kicked him square in the face. Santini's nose crunched and exploded with blood. "You seriously underestimated me, you stupid prick. What is it they say? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" She leaned down and grinned at him. "Whilst I played the perfect little wife you had no idea I was plotting my escape, day by day, hour by hour. You had no need to check for a keylogger on your computer in the bedroom because why would a brainwashed bimbo even know what a keylogger is, hmmm? Or know how to hide a spy cam in the picture that stares straight at the computer?"

"You fucking little bitch!" he shouted. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to rip you apart, piece by piece, just like Jimmy did your sister."

Amelia's face hardened in an instant. I thought she was going to take another swing at his face, but instead she very calmly said, "Boys."

The dogs trotted over to her side.

Santini looked at the pair of miniature bears and then glared at Amelia. "I've not forgotten they're mine, Amelia. I bought them to watch you."

She laughed and said, "That's the irony, isn't it? You bought them to watch me, so I trained them to protect me against you. This really is sweet poetic justice, don't you think? What did you think would happen if you left me alone for weeks on end with nothing to do?"

"You had everything you could possibly want. What the fuck are you going to gain by living with a bunch of outlaws in a trailer?"

"Freedom," she said. She looked at the gun in her hand and shrugged her shoulders. "I think you've had enough bullets. Boys, vernichten."

To my amazement, and some part horror, the dogs lunged for Santini's throat. The bigger of the two clamped his jaw around the mobster's throat in one hit and tore at it like a hungry shark. Santini's screams were promptly quietened as the squelch of flesh and blood filled the air. The smaller dog, unable to get at Santini's throat bit down on the side of his head, sinking his teeth into his ear and cheek.

Santini's eyes were still moving as his blood flowed like a crimson wave over my office floor. That was going to take some cleaning.

Amelia whistled, calling the dogs back to her side instantly. She knelt down, not caring for Santini's blood staining her clothes and hands. Looking him straight in the eye, she watched his life drain away from him. "I hope you burn in hell."

With his throat torn wide open, it didn't take long for his eyes to glaze over with a lifeless stare I'd seen far too many times before.

"Fuck me," Cleaver said, his voice almost a whisper. "Remind me not to piss her off."

I grinned.