Linda and Robbie lay in bed in the house on Torquent Street, with Linda drawing random patterns in Robbie's chest hair as he lay staring at the ceiling.
"If I divorce Brad he'll probably get half of the two million. I don't want that," Linda said, almost as if she were talking to herself.
Robbie turned on his side and propped his head on his hand.
"Making sure that doesn't happen might require something drastic."
Linda chuckled, "I'd do anything to keep that from happening."
"I've heard about someone. He's called The Dispatcher."
Linda rose up, "You mean a hitman?"