“Cut the bullshit.” I arrange the dying man in a sitting position, with his back flush against the kitchen island. Then I rise. “Thanks to you, I have a kitchen to scrub.”
His disapproving frown gives me a sick sense of vindication. One day, the blood coating my skin will be his, only I won’t kill him so cleanly.
Every scream I had to endure while he locked himself in the room with Mother will be repaid ten-fold.
“Where did I go wrong with you, my boy?” he asks.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of rolling my eyes. Instead, I walk off camera toward the cupboard that contains crime-scene-grade cleaning supplies.
Grabbing a stack of kitchen towels, duct tape and a large tub of absorbent granules, I return to the man and create a makeshift bandage for his throat. There’s no saving him now, but I want to avoid a situation where I’m tracking blood back to Phoenix.
“Marius?” Crius asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.
I tape the towels around the man and pour the absorbent granules around his body to soak up the blood. The man stares up at me, his mouth opening and closing. Anyone involved with a known sex trafficker doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
“Are you going to send someone to collect your man or will I dump this carcass and your smartphone on the beach?”
He doesn’t reply for several heartbeats. It’s likely a ploy to lure me back to the camera, but I’m tracking blood across the kitchen floor on my quest to soak up the spillage from the man’s corpse.
Crius makes a loud, dramatic sigh. “I despair with you.”
Since I’m off camera, I’m free to roll my eyes. “Talk to me. I will listen while I work.”
“Droll.”
“What do you want?”
“An update on your mission.”
“I already gave you one a few days ago.”
After packing as much absorbent material around the man’s neck, I approach him with a transparent trash bag. He raises a hand in an attempt to shove me away, but he’s so weak from the blood loss that I push it down.
I place the bag over his head and secure the ends with duct tape to create a seal. It won’t be perfect, but with a few more layers, I’ll have something I can transport with minimal leakage.
Crius hasn’t replied yet, so I raise my head to find him still sitting in that leather chair, his features tight.
“I asked you a question, son.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Marius,” he says through clenched teeth. “Will you kindly share the latest news on the mission?”
I return to wrapping up the man, who is either dead now or has passed out.
“The target has a hobby I believe I can exploit. If my plan succeeds, I’ll lure him out from behind the secure walls. Be assured that I’ll share the location with you to arrange a crew to pick him up.”
“How soon?” Crius asks with an urgency in his voice that makes me frown.
“There’s no point in mentioning dates if he doesn’t take the bait,” I reply, keeping my tone measured. “And if the first plan to get him to leave of his own accord doesn’t work, then I’ll come up with another.”
“Let’s hope he does, because your mother—”
“What about her?” My head snaps up.
His eyes flash with triumph, and the corners of his lips lift with a smile.
Crius loves to exploit the weakness I have for Mother, and it’s not one I can hide. Not when he’s known me my entire childhood. Not when he witnessed me run into the room while he was hurting her and attack him with my little fists. Not when he locked me out and I’d pound on the door and scream obscenities. Not when I finally had enough of the bastard and stole a gun.