"Maybe she found out what you do and she just wants to see how far you'll go."

Carlos nodded slowly, remembering the word his mother had used. "See how much of a monster her son is? Could be."

Maggie sat down, crossed one ankle over the other. "So what are you going to do?"

"What she wants."

"You mean…?"

" Si. I'm going to kill the old bitch."

"Holy shit," Maggie said. "You can't do that."

"If she's had enough, I'll be putting her out of her misery. And if she's playing a game, I'm going to make sure I win."

"Even if it means killing her?"

"It's what she wants."

"She can't want that."

"Well, it's what she's paid me for. Wouldn't want to disappoint her, would I? I'm a professional, after all."

"Fuck, Charlie." Maggie rubbed the palm of her hand on her thigh. "You're serious."

"I didn't ask for this. And I didn't decide on the stakes."

"Still…"

"'Still what? I thought you didn't like her? Didn't want her round Sofia?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'd want her… done."

"Done?"

"You know… expurgated."

"She won't be expurgated. Only Richie can do that."

"You know what I mean. Richie, Jordan, same thing."

Carlos nodded. "I'd rather not use Jordan either."

"I thought you and him had an understanding."

He shrugged. "This is personal. It's more than just a business transaction. Something I need to do myself."

"Shit," she said. She laughed. "Sorry. I'm just… trying to let this sink in."

"There's more," he said, and waited for her to calm herself. "I'll need some help. Someone I can trust."

"Hardly spoilt for choice, then."

"No," he said. "What are you doing next week? Tuesday night, maybe?"

"Me?" She widened her eyes as what he was asking her sunk in. "Charlie, I couldn't."