Cyrus eyeballed Javier Vincente Rodriguez, who whipped out a gun and pointed it at his beloved master. He ignored the wait-to-release order and streaked across the room to body slam the tattooed man to the ground, sink his teeth into the wild mane of hair, and toss the man from one side to the other like a rag doll. When he was done with him, he body slammed him again up against the Sub-Zero refrigerator and left him lying there, out cold.

“I saw it go down,” Harry said. “That dog saved your life, Jack. Big time.”

Jack buried his head in Cyrus’s neck and held on to the big dog for dear life. “I love you, you big galoop. You get two rib eyes the next time we eat.” Cyrus barked and licked Jack from the top of his head to his neck and any place in between he could find.

When the front door opened, Fergus, Charles, and Avery made their way to the kitchen to observe the carnage the boys had wrought. There was blood everywhere. Tough gang members were crying into their arms, sniveling and mewling like beaten animals wondering what had happened to them. Miggy bit down on his lower lip, knowing this was barely half the payback they all deserved for what they’d done. He, too, cried as his tongue sought to find his teeth, which were no longer attached to his gums. He looked over at Alonzo, who was a bloody, pulpy mess, and something in him secretly cheered at his friend’s condition.

“Oh my,” was all Fergus could think to say.

“Lizzie isn’t going to like this,” Charles said.

“No, she isn’t,” Avery said.

“She won’t care,” Dennis said.

“Now what?” Harry asked.

“Now we turn it over to Avery.”

“Whoa! Whoa! No! No! No! I have the punishment for these cruds all picked out. I want them punished for what they did to the tenants and Cosmo,” Maggie bellowed. “And we still need to find the remains of the people they butchered over the last seven months.”

“Well then, okay, dear. What do you need us to do?” Charles asked.

“Strip that guy Santiago down to the buff, and Meadows, too, along with that Rodriguez guy, the walking advertisement for all that’s evil in the world. Find me three broom handles and some duct tape. See that twelve-burner, one-of-a-kind, custom-built stove. We’re going to turn it into one big rotisserie and roast these guys. C’mon, chop chop, don’t make me do it all here!”

Jack swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”

“Do dogs have fleas, Jack? Damn straight, I’m serious. These devils cut off Frances Gossett’s best friend’s head. Frances doesn’t have anyone to play bingo with anymore or anyone to take the jitney with her to the dollar store. Hurry up, I want to see these guys roasting.”