He leaned back, noting the cold sweat on Richard’s forehead, the way his breathing had slowed. Excellent. “You might have noted that I said that Paul Engel liked young girls. Past tense. He’s dead. He died very painfully. So did Brian Carlyle. Unfortunately, I want your death to appear to be an accident, otherwise the cops will start looking at me for it. If I had my way, I’d be cutting off your fingers and then your toes. Then all the other parts you hold dear. Just like I did to them. While you were sleeping with Miss Motherfucking Bitch, I was busy cutting up your clients and throwing them in the river. I’m sure you’ll be quite relieved to know that Carlyle’s niece is safe and her creepy uncle won’t ever touch her again.”

Richard’s eyes slid closed.

Cade nodded, satisfied. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, hurry up and die. I have places I need to be.”

Chapter Two

Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 12:45 p.m.

Dani Novak closed her eyes wearily. Conversations with her aunt and uncle never ended well these days. Who am I kidding? There was no “these days” about it. Conversations with Jim and Tammy Kimble had never ended well. They had ended less well since Jim had lost his insurance benefits along with his police pension. Which Jim had a way of blaming on everyone except himself, of course.

“You said this was an emergency, Uncle Jim.” She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice low because she wasn’t alone in the little exam room. “Aunt Tammy needing a refill on her anxiety medication is not an emergency and I’m not her doctor. Call her actual doctor. I’m with a patient.”

She knew she would be ignored. Trying to reason with her uncle was like spitting into the wind. Her words were always flung back at her, somehow worse on the return trip.

“Oh, yeah,” Jim said sarcastically. “All those patients at that clinic.” He said clinic like it was a dirty word. To him, it probably was. The Meadow Free Clinic served the lowest economic bracket of the city, the people Jim had always looked down on. “You’d rather sew up gangbangers than take care of your actual flesh and blood. Well, I guess your patients get what they pay for. It’s not like you’re going to get anyone else to come to you, seeing as you’re . . . y’know.”

Dani drew a breath, trying not to show that the arrows had found their mark, because they had. Your patients get what they pay for. Which was nothing, in Jim’s mind.

Seeing as you’re . . . y’know. Yes, she knew. Jim hadn’t spared the descriptors since learning that she was HIV positive, and today would be no exception. Whore. Stupid. Dirty.