Epilogue Daisy #2
Sitting back up, Giulio slides to the side of the bed and reaches for the larger robe that was hanging right next to the one I now wear.
During our heated kiss, Richard managed to wedge himself a few feet out of the closet and toward the door.
The slow movements are made nearly impossible by the duct tape wrapped multiple times around his ankles and his arms, which are bound behind his back.
When I go over to where he is, the man freezes as I crouch down and flick the end of his nose with a nail. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, Dick,” I say, recalling the guy’s nickname from high school. An appropriate name, I do have to say. “But I’m a good friend of Ginny’s.”
His blue eyes cloud with confusion, and I wait with careful patience until he gets it. When the man’s brows shoot up to his already thin hairline and his eyes bulge in recognition, I nod in understanding. “Yeah, that Ginny. You know… the girl you got pregnant and then rejected?”
I hear Giulio finish getting up behind me and then sense him moving toward the carrier.
“You see,” I continue, wrapping one arm around my knees, “I didn’t know who she was with back then.
She was real protective of you.” I roll my eyes.
“I don’t know why; it’s not like you deserved her loyalty.
” Metal and hard plastic scrape against each other, and Richard’s eyes dart over my shoulder.
Tsking, I take his chin and move his attention back to me.
“But you see, my brother-in-law is supersmart,” I continue.
“He can find anyone and hack into their lives. That’s how we found you and knew you were coming on a ‘business trip’ here in the Bahamas.
” I release him to lift my fingers and place air quotes around the “business trip” part.
Yeah, Richard Rutter doesn’t do business trips.
Everything Dante found on the asshole confirmed what I already knew to be true about the man who fucked Ginny, got her pregnant, and then encouraged her to get rid of the baby.
He’s nothing but a low-level medical insurance agent, and the poor woman he conned into marrying him last year has no idea that he’s been cheating on her every “business trip” he’s taken.
I hold my hand up over my shoulder when I sense Giulio drawing near.
Without a word, he puts something in it.
I bring it down and smile. Richard’s ruddy face pales beneath the gag of cotton and duct tape over his mouth.
The pale edges where the adhesive pulls taut at his sallow skin is almost gray now.
“My brother-in-law found all sorts of things about your relationship with Ginny,” I say as I put the sharp end of the scissors to the bottom of one pants leg and slice upward.
Hairy, pale knees are revealed. I pause over the long diagonal scar that runs up his calf.
“You couldn’t continue to play football in college after this injury, huh?
” I murmur—another tidbit of information from Dante.
Then I shake my head and finish the cut before moving on to the other leg.
Richard is trembling now, big, fat tears leaking over his cheeks.
“I might have been convinced to leave you alone,” I say as I continue my work, “but then Dante found all of the other shit—the cyberbullying, the trolling, the pictures you shared with your buddies, not just in high school but in college and even now.” I scoff and shake my head.
“How do you have any friends when you’re such a disgusting little pervert?
Still getting off on the body of a girl you practically killed. ”
Ripping the now-destroyed pants free, I set to work on his shirt, leaving his tighty-whities for last. All the while, Giulio hovers in the background like an ever-present shadow, just letting me exact my own brand of justice.
“Does your wife know that your tastes haven’t changed?
” I ask, truly curious despite the fact that I know he can’t answer me.
I lift the scissors and wave them as I speak.
He flinches back as far as he can on the carpeted floor of the bedroom.
“I mean, that’s why you come here, right?
You’ve got yourself a nice, young girlfriend here?
I know your wife doesn’t know about her, but she’s the same age as Ginny was when she died.
It makes me wonder.” I point the scissors at his jugular.
“Did you even care when she killed herself?”
No, I already know the answer to that. Dante showed me all of the messages about Ginny that he dug up on Richard’s old social media profiles.
Laughing about fucking her and taking her virginity, complaining about how clingy she was, and then abandoning her when she got pregnant.
The things he wrote to her, too… they made my blood boil.
Clenching my fingers around the scissors’ handle, I bring the sharp end down hard, right over the scar on his calf.
He screams behind his duct tape gag. Giulio moves away and more rustling comes from the bed.
Then he’s there once more, kneeling with a blue plastic tarp.
Sliding the barrier under Richard’s legs, he catches the falling blood as I yank the scissors out.
Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, Giulio rounds my back and then lifts Richard up as I help to pull the barrier all the way so the floor will be protected from anything else I do.
“Sorry,” I murmur to him. “I got too angry.”
Giulio presses his thumb to my lower lip as he crouches next to me, swiping it back and forth. “You have nothing to be sorry for, cara,” he murmurs. “You finish doing what you need to do, and I’ll take care of the body afterward.”
Tears prick my eyelids, and I sniff hard. “I love you.” I blurt out the words, feeling them rattle around in my chest, heavy and pressurized like a can of whoop ass that hasn’t been opened in two and a half decades.
Smirking, Giulio leans forward and replaces his thumb with his mouth. When the kiss ends, he answers, “I know.”
When he says nothing more, I realize what he’s doing and gasp. “You’ve been watching Star Wars!” I realize.
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’ve convinced me to give all of those… what do you call them? Pop-genre? I’ve been giving your recommendations a go.”
Fucking swoon.
“Okay.” I nod to myself. “Kill Richard. Tours. Honeymoon sex. Star Wars. Honeymoon sex. A binge-reading marathon. Honeymoon sex.” I repeat my plan aloud, though as I stumble over the “honeymoon sex,” I wonder if I might do that sooner rather than later.
The whimper of the man bleeding over the plastic tarp beside us draws my attention back. Nope. Killing Richard has to come first, but maybe I can squeeze in a blow job before the tours.
“Sounds like a plan,” Giulio says, making me realize I said that last part aloud as he straightens up from his crouch. “I’ll get the pliers. You start with that.” He points to the Swiss Army knife that falls out of Richard’s ruined clothes and thumps onto the carpet.
“Perfect!” I lift it and start to fiddle with the different settings. Corkscrew. Knife. Nail file. It’s even got its own set of pliers. I glance down at Richard’s face as sweat slides over his cheek. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I’ll use our pliers, they’re bigger and probably have a better grip.”
All the better to rip his nipples off with.
Flipping the knife up and around, I slide the blade out.
This is a great place to start. As long as I’m precise, I won’t nick the superior rectal artery.
I want to make this last, after all. Using the blade, I finish cutting off Richard’s underwear and grimace at the tiny, thumb-sized cock I reveal.
I tsk under my tongue. “How sad,” I say.
He groans and struggles against his bindings, but I’m not too worried because his flopping about only ends up turning him onto his front, which is just right for my intentions.
“I’m ready,” I call over my shoulder. A few moments later, Giulio appears at my side and hands me what I need.
With his head turned and smashed into the carpet, Richard starts wailing behind his duct tape gag the second he sets his eyes on what I have in my hand.
“I always wanted to be here when Karma decided to dry fuck your ass with a cactus,” I say with a laugh and then shake my head.
“But no plant deserves to be punished for your misdeeds.” I hold up the spiked baton my sweet husband gifted me right before we left for our honeymoon.
“I’ve got this instead.” I wave it around with my fingers curled on the handle right before I point it between his butt cheeks.
“Spiked batons probably hurt more,” I warn him. He squirms, dragging his molted red and white body over the carpet as if it’ll do anything. I snort at the sight. I shove the baton in, the sharp mini lances at the top drawing trickles of blood. “Call me Karma, Dick.”