by Leah Holt
Love comes once in a lifetime, and my life wasn't over yet. . .
It was just beginning.
Chapter Eighteen
Porter
I could see Marcos's house in the distance. There were some faint lights glowing around a few of the windows, but aside from that, the place looked empty. That wasn't the case at all, and I knew it; his men were standing guard, and Emery was in there.
My headlights were off, and the engine idled quietly as I sat trying to figure out how I was going to get inside. I wasn't the only asshole out there gunning for his head.
He had enemies on all sides. It comes with the territory, it's just a part of that world. You can't climb to the top without pissing on others to get there.
He had his selected few, the men he entrusted his life to. From what I knew, there were always at least two or three other guys roaming the grounds, squatting in some hidden spot, jerking off to pass the time.
I was about to walk right into the lion's den. Most people wouldn't be stupid enough to ever do that alone. Except for me. . . I was that fool.
Reaching for my gun, I felt the vacant spot where it was normally tucked away. Cringing to myself, I scratched my fingers through my hair, wondering how the hell I was going to go blazing in there to get Emery back.
I was going to have to be careful and really think about each step I would take. As much as I just wanted to charge in there like a raging bull, I couldn't. I wouldn't risk Emery getting caught in the crossfire, no fucking way. This had to be done as quietly and swiftly as possible.
Climbing out of the car, I popped the trunk and searched around inside. There had to be something I could use, something that would work as a weapon. Finding the tire iron, I held it in my hand.
This will have to do.
Clutching the metal, my knuckles went numb as all the blood drained out, leaving them white. This anger was going to fucking kill me. My heart was ready to implode, and my head was throbbing.
All I felt was this bristling rage that coated my body like a hard shell. There was nothing else inside, no fear, no worries, no regret. This woman had become mine, she had become a part of me in ways I couldn't understand, but wasn't willing to let go of.
I loved her, and because of that, I would do anything for her. Even if that meant exchanging my life for hers.
Using the shadows, I stalked through the night like the Grim Reaper, eager to suck the soul out of the next man in line.
Peering through the darkness, I could see two guys outside. One of the men was sitting in a chair by the front door, his gun resting in his lap. From where I was, I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or just relaxing.
The other guy was pacing the grounds, walking back and forth between the cars, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings.
He's first.
Keeping myself low to the ground, I crept up behind Marcos's Hummer, silently waiting for asshole number one to come my way. The man kept stopping, periodically checking over his shoulder, and searching as far into the distance as his eyes would allow.
I could feel the ground shake slightly from his steps, and hear the soft ping of gravel as it was kicked up by his feet. Adrenaline surged through my muscles, forcing my fingers to tighten around the metal bar.
His shadow grew long and slender, his breathing audible as he approached where I was hiding in the darkness. The tips of his sneakers poked out from under the bumper, close enough for me to take action.
Leaping up, I swung the tire iron, cracking him across the side of the head. Dropping to the ground, he laid motionless as a thin stream of blood trickled down his forehead.
I could have killed him right then, but I didn't. I wasn't there for that, even though every inch of my body was screaming at me to do it.
But who would I be if I killed him? I'd be no better than the men I had set out to destroy. I wasn't like these men, not anymore.
Emery had been right, she reminded me that I wasn't that person, that I didn't need to do this. I was better than that, I was willing to stop when lethal force wasn't necessary. That guy was out cold, he wasn't a threat to me anymore, and by the time he woke up, I planned on being long gone.
Grabbing his ankles, I dragged him behind the truck so he was out of view. Looking down, I didn't recognize the guy, he had to be new, someone who had rode the ranks to qualify to be one of Marcos's personal protectors.
I know what you did to get here.
The guy looked to be about my age, twenty-four or so. Dressed in a thin white t-shirt and dark blue jeans, he reminded me so much of myself. It was as if I could see the pain on his face, of the life he had that led him there.
Checking him over, I patted down his sides and found his gun secured in a holster at his hip. Plucking it free, I stuffed it into the back of my jeans, and picked up the tire iron.
It felt good to have a gun on me, there was a higher level of safety knowing I had the right kind of power to take these guys on.
Silence was key right then, the gun was good, but the longer I can hide, the better. I didn't want to start shooting if I didn't have to. That would only draw attention, making my silent entry an all out war. I wanted to stay low, I wanted to get in and out with as little blood being spilled as possible.
I was trying like hell to stay true to my word. To not be a killer, to not live for the thrill of taking another man's life.
Because I couldn't lie and say I didn't enjoy it at one point in my past. I did. There was a high that came with that type of power, a rush that couldn't be replicated with anything else.
I was like an addict, walking into a drug-infested party, and trying to stay clean.
I can do this.
Peeking my head over the hood of the Hummer, the man stationed at the door had his arms folded over his chest, and his head laid back. It was hard to tell if his eyes were closed, but he hadn't moved a damn muscle.
With quick feet, I darted across the driveway, and ducked behind a tall, spiraling bush. Listening carefully, I could hear the gentle snore of the guy by the door.
The motherfucker is out.
They're making this too easy.
Standing over the man, I hit him just hard enough to keep him sleeping. His body flopped over, and I caught him before he hit the ground. Pushing him back up, I positioned him the same as he had been, and slipped inside the house.
The halls were dim, the surrounding rooms dark and quiet. With tender steps, I gingerly walked through the foyer and down the hall, heading toward the back of his house.
Soft music echoed through the hall, so I followed the sound. Every room I passed was dark, there were no lights on in any of them. I was drawn deeper and deeper into Marcos's castle, pulled and tugged by the pain in my heart.
Emery was somewhere, and the thought of her being afraid was almost too much for me to bear.
I'm here baby, I'm coming for you.
The music was a symphony of violins and brass instruments that reached high and low tones in tandem. A cackle of laughter mingled with the sweet sound, ruining the beauty the orchestra had created.
“You really are so fucking pretty.” Marcos's voice whispered through the music, making my blood percolate under the skin.
“Fuck you!” Emery spat, her voice battling back tears.
My heart broke, it folded over and dissolved, turning into pieces inside my chest. Just hearing her voice was enough to send me over the edge.
A loud slap rang out, and I heard Emery let out a cry. Every muscle in my body reacted, twitching and tensing into angry strings of rope.
My entire plan to be quiet went out the window. He had put his hands on her, he had caused her pain, and that was something I wouldn't stand for.
All my control was gone, it was lost to the love I felt for that girl. She needed me and I wasn't going to waste another second.
With one hard hit, I kicked the door open. My brain had silenced everything around me, creating this deep void between my ears. It was
like the world was put on mute, and all I could hear was my pulse.
Emery was the first thing I saw, her body curled up on the floor as she held her face. Giant raindrop-shaped tears were cascading down her cheeks, her eyes were open wide, glossed over like she tried to removed herself mentally from what was happening.
Marcos growled as his lids thinned, and his eyes met mine. “You're suppose to be dead.”
“Looks like your guys failed again.”
I knew what I had said before, and to be honest, even I didn't believe myself. There was no way in hell I was going to get this far, and not kill the fucker. He deserved to die, he deserved to die over and over for each life that had been lost at his hand.
I wanted him to feel it, I wanted him to suffer. There was a difference between innocent, stupid, and just plain evil. My brother was innocent, Emery was innocent. The men who worked and died for Marcos were stupid.
But he was just an evil bastard.
“Porter, what don't you understand about how this works?” Marcos stepped up beside Emery and started playing with her hair. “You need to die like every other asshole who fucked me over. Stop avoiding the inevitable.”
“I can't do that, Marcos. I won't just let you kill me.” The crowbar was still in my hand, so I held it out to the side like a baseball bat. “Let her go, and then we can talk about what's going to happen to me.”
“And if I don't?”
“If you don't, I'll have no choice but to kill you.”
Laughing, he wiped his face, and looked down at Emery. “He's funny, I don't remember him being so funny. Why don't you ask Emery what she wants, ask her if she wants to be saved by a murderer.”
Emery's eyes glistened like glass, her lips turning down into a heavy frown. “Is it true? Did you really kill that family?”
“What? No, of course I didn't.” Taking a step forward, I softened my voice. “Don't believe what he tells you, Emery, he's a liar.”
“It was in the paper, Porter. The police said you killed an entire family, kids and all. Why would they say that if it wasn't true?”
“That's what he wants everyone to think. He wants everyone to believe I did that, but I didn't!” Yelling, I kept my eyes on hers, hoping she could feel I was telling her the truth.
Marcos let out another hard laugh. “She doesn't want you anymore, Porter. You're fighting for nothing.” Pulling a gun out from behind his back, he smirked. “It's time, it's time for you to just let go. You don't want anyone else to die, do you? Because I can kill her, it won't bother me.” Keeping his eyes on me, he placed his gun against her head and smiled.
Emery's eyes grew to the size of saucers, skin turning ghost white as he pulled back the hammer. She was shaking, trembling from head to toe as sweat dripped down her temples, and she tried to curl even deeper into herself. She looked like a porcelain doll, so fragile and breakable.
“You're making me do this, you know that, right?” Glancing down at her, Marcos brushed some of her hair out of her face with the tip of the gun. “I was hoping to fuck her before I had to kill her.” Biting his bottom lip, he eyed her like she was nothing more than a whore.
“You got this all wrong, Marcos.” Slipping my hand behind my back, I tipped my head.
“Is that right?” His smirk widened, eyes growing black as hell.
I could hear the faint ring of sirens in the distance. There was only so much time left before the place would be crawling with cops. If I was going to end this, I'd have to do it now.
“It is.” Yanking the gun out from behind my back, I pulled the trigger.
Emery was worth all of this. My life meant nothing if she died.
Pulling that trigger was the only option I had.
Chapter Nineteen
Emery
Curled up in a ball, I felt the wind as Marcos body fell to the ground with a thud. My eyes were sealed shut, refusing to see another dead man on the floor.
Strong arms wrapped my shoulders and hugged me tightly. “It's alright, I'm here, Baby, he won't hurt you anymore.” Porter kissed the top of my head as he pushed my skull into his chest with his hand. “You're alright, it's all going to be alright.”
I heard a long drawn out groan, and it forced me to peek from the corner of my eye. Marcos was on his back with his hands covering his stomach. He was rolling around, his face scrunching up in anguish as blood began to seep up between his fingers, and drip down over his knuckles.
Kicking Marcos's gun away from his hand, Porter stuffed his hands under my arms. “Come on, get up, we need to leave.” Helping me to my feet, he looked me over. “We have to get out of here.”
Marcos groaned again, so Porter turned on his heels swiftly. Dropping down to his knees, Porter cracked Marcos on the side of his head with the butt of his gun, forcing him into silence.
“He's not dead, at least not yet. I'm trying, Emery, I didn't shoot to kill, even though I wanted to.” Swooping his arms around my back, he guided me towards the door. “But we need to go now.”
“Was he really lying? You really didn't kill those people?” Stopping short, I flicked my eyes up to his. I wanted the truth, I needed to hear him say it.
I wasn't sure why I wanted to hear him say it. I knew I believed him, I knew by the tone in his voice that he wasn't lying. But, hearing the words meant something more to me.
Gripping my arms, Porter looked me straight in the eye. “I didn't kill those people, Emery. That's the whole reason this all happened to begin with. I couldn't kill that family, there was no way in hell I was going to do that.” Dropping his head into his chest, he took in a deep breath. “I have killed people, a lot of fucking people. But, I would never kill anyone who was innocent. And when I saw them, when I figured out that he expected me to kill all of them, I couldn't do it. He had someone else finish what I couldn't. He tried to set me up, leaked info to the police that made me look guilty. But, I swear on my brother's grave I didn't do it. You have to believe me.”
There was so much weight in his voice, a pained hate that he felt and lived with. But I believed him.
Porter wasn't a good man, he wasn't a saint in true form. But he wasn't bad either, he had been misguided. A lost boy in a world full of evil. And that evil had attached itself to him, it brought him into its clutches, and taught him how to kill.
But he wasn't meant for this life. This wasn't the man he was supposed to be.
I fell in love with a killer. And I fell in love with a man, a man who wanted to right his wrongs.
“I believe you.” Touching his chest, I held his eyes with mine. “I can feel your heart, Porter, and it's not black.”
His hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking gently back and forth against my jaw. “I love you, Emery, and I'll live every day showing you how much I love you. You changed me, you made me a better person. You helped me to see the life I can have, and not the one I thought I was left with.”
Porter pressed his lips to mine, and I knew. . .
We were meant to be.
I found love in his darkness.
And I'd do it all over again if it would lead me back to him.
Epilogue
Porter
Waves crashed behind me, and I could taste the salt off the ocean as the wind blew across my face. It was a perfect day, the first perfect day I could actually remember.
Nothing was going to ruin this moment.
The sound of a ukulele began to play, signaling that it was time. My mother reached out and touched my arm as she stood beside me, her smile warm and excited. She looked like years had been erased from her face in the last couple of months.
Everything had changed; literally.
Franco was out of the picture, my mother left him after all that shit went down. He was doing hard time with Disesto anyway for helping to orchestrate the whole damn thing.
I wanted to kill them both, and I wouldn't say I won't be happy when either one takes their very last breath. But, I was glad that I had kept my control, I w
as happy that I didn't allow that evil to control me anymore.
Taking the stand to tell my story wasn't easy, it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. But I did it, and through that I was given a second chance in this life. I was allowed to start over.
At first I thought my mother would be depressed that Franco was gone, but that wasn't the case. She looked lighter, like the weight that had been on her shoulders was gone.
The mother I remembered from when I was a really young boy had come back to me. She was smiling all the time now, and was more than ready to start this new chapter of her life.
We were moved to the other side of the country, finding refuge with a new name in a new place, where no one would know who we were. As far as any of the assholes back home were concerned, we were invisible.
George Donovan. . . Can you believe that shit? That's the name the witness protection program gave me; fucking George Donovan. At home I was still Porter. I didn't think anyone would ever find us here anyway, but it was better to be safe than sorry—Emery's words, not mine.
Looking down at the small cluster of seats, Emery's grandmother was sitting in a white wicker chair at the base of the small platform, rubbing her hands back and forth nervously as she would periodically wipe her eyes with a tissue.
Della, Emery's best friend was already standing across from me, holding her bouquet, with a teary twinkle in her eye. I was happy Emery had a friend like her. She uprooted her entire life for her friend.
Everything was perfect.
The sun, the sky, even the damn air was exactly as it should be for today. Because today, I was marrying the woman of my dreams.
The minister, or as the locals call him, the Kahu, cleared his throat and shifted his feet, positioning his small book in front of his chest. Small creases crept out from the corner of his eyes, his smile was light and airy as a permanent twinkle kept shining in his pupils. The band of flowers around his head danced gently in the breeze as he lifted a conch shell to his lips and blew.