“I inherited this butcher shop,” he explains. “It was my grandfather's and while meat markets have become somewhat obsolete these days, I don’t have the heart to part with it. It’s all I have left of the old man. You understand that don’t you?”
Unsure where he’s going with this or what I’m supposed to say, I nod my head and watch him flick the switch. The carcasses move in a rotation and Sally snaps his fingers, demanding my attention.
“I needed to find a way for this place to be useful to a man in my position,” he continues. “The good people of Nashville come here for the prime cuts of beef but, the people like me, the twisted fucks who circle the underworld, they come here looking for me to dispose of any and all evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“Lesson number one, you can’t be convicted of murder if they never find a body, son,” he says pointedly.
“Is that why I’m here?” I croak. “If you’re going to kill me, then just do it already. Please.”
He shakes his head.
“No, Lincoln, I told you I’m here to teach you not to kill you.”
“Teaching me a lesson won’t get your money back,” I tell him.
Confused, I watch him flick the switch down and the rotating meat comes to a stop. He runs his hand over the body of a pig before giving it a firm pat.
“If I kill you for losing my money, then you’re relieved of your burdens. You don’t get to suffer for your crimes and there is simply no fun in that,” he continues, moving from one frozen animal to another. “But, if I give you something to remember, something to haunt you and force you to live in torment, well, that’s the sweet satisfaction of revenge.”
He pauses, crooking his finger as he beckons me closer.
“C’mere,” he demands.
Paralyzed by the cold or maybe fear, I stay rooted in place and shake my head defiantly.
“It’s not a request,” he clarifies, gritting his teeth. “Come here, now.”
Still, I don’t move.
It’s a mind over matter thing that makes it impossible for me to physically take a step toward him, certain whatever awaits me is something I won’t be able to erase from my mind. It’s making the conscious effort to not be at a monster’s mercy, knowing it’s ultimately a wasted effort because when the butcher wants to brand you, there is no escaping it.
His lackey grabs me by the back of my neck and drags me closer to Sally.
“Please, no,” I beg.
With all his might he pushes one of the carcasses and then another, repeating it until my eyes move like a pendulum watching them swing from the hooks. That’s when I catch a glimpse of what hangs behind the animals. Sure my imagination is running wild, I close my eyes briefly and pray I didn’t just witness my beautiful girlfriend hanging from a meat hook.
The bile rises in my throat as I open my eyes and stare in horror at Savannah’s lifeless body. Frozen solid with her eyes open, she hangs by the back of her neck.
“NO!”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I scream at the top of my lungs. My stomach drops and I’m no longer able to hold down the vomit. Regurgitating, I lurch forward emptying the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Whatever happens next becomes a blur as I fall to my knees wishing it was me and not her.
His words sink in and I realize the sickest part of it all is that I can beg this man to kill me and he won’t. He’s right, this is a far worse punishment than death. Not only will I live with the guilt but, I won’t remember her pretty face or the way her nose scrunches up when she smiles at me. The sound of her voice as she hits all the high notes is already a distant memory. A thing of the past. All that’s left is this moment and every day of my life, I will remember Savannah hanging from a hook.
Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I foolishly lift my head and torment myself some more watching as one of Sally’s men unhooks her. A whimper escapes my lips as her body falls to the floor with a thump. He grabs her by her ankles and drags her across the freezer.
“Where are you taking her?”
“You don’t want me to answer that,” Sally says, crossing his arms against his chest. “You may not realize it yet but years from now, you’ll look back at this day and understand the valuable lesson I’ve demonstrated for you.”
“All I learned is that you’re a sick fuck,” I shout. “You killed an innocent girl who didn’t even know your name. She was a good girl, a good fucking girl with her whole life ahead of her.”
“That’s not true,” he says calmly. “She chose you, therefore she wouldn’t have had a very bright future at all. You would’ve fucked up somewhere and she would’ve paid the price one way or another. That’s the lesson here, little cub. You’re not invincible. You’re a lowlife street thug who won’t amount to much in life and anything you touch you’ll destroy. If you take anything from this, take the fact that there is always someone more twisted and evil than you. The next time you think you can beat the odds, think of the pretty little lass hanging from the hook and realize you’re no match.”
I want to spit at him.
I want to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle the life out of him.
I want to be ten years older and man enough to take them all down.
I want…I want…it doesn’t matter what I want.
Suddenly a screeching noise fills my ears. It sounds a lot like nails grating against a chalkboard and I turn around only to discover the nightmare isn’t over. Sally’s enforcer has lifted my poor girl onto a table and is standing over her body sharpening two of the largest knives I’ve ever seen. I turn back to Sally, my eyes bulging in a mixture of disbelief and fear.
“What’s he going to do to her?”
He refrains from answering me as he crosses the room. Standing in front of a large stainless-steel machine, he bends and plugs it into the wall. It comes alive with a loud rumble and he begins to roll up his sleeves.
“You should go,” he says after a moment. “Run, little cub,” he warns. “Run as fast and far as your legs will take you.”
He’s right. I should run. I should turn the fuck around and flee but, I can’t. I can’t leave her with them. I know I failed her, that I can never make this right or bring her back. But, I have nowhere to go. Everything I had is lying on a butcher block—my home, my heart, and my future.
The man standing next to her lifts the knife high above his head and knowing what happens next, I close my eyes and scream her name only it doesn’t come out as loud as I thought it would. To my ears, her name floats past my lips like the final cord of a love song.
A tragic love song.
A song that will haunt me all the days of my doomed life.
-One-
LINC
After Sally kicked me out of the butcher shop, I wandered the streets of Nashville lost and lonely. Going back to the apartment I shared with Savannah wasn’t an option. The grief and guilt paired with the haunting vision of her death were too much. I was drowning in a sea of nightmares with no reprieve in sight just like Sally wanted. I realized then that his punishment wasn’t a lesson but instead an irreversible brand, something I’d never escape—certainly not in a town run by him. I’d always look over my shoulder, expecting to find him and I would always remember the sound of Savannah’s bones grinding to dust.
With nowhere to go and no one to trust, I made my way to my childhood home and knocked on the front door expecting my mother to greet me. I wasn’t naïve to believe she’d welcome me with open arms. Not only did I ignore her warnings when I left to chase my dreams but, I never bothered to look back either.
My mother didn’t answer the door, and I learned she had moved from our home a year ago. The new owners were kind enough to supply me with a forwarding address. Using the last few dollars I had to my name, I purchased a bus ticket and boarded the Greyhound. Twelve hours later, I got off the bus and hitched a ride from a trucker. Now, here I am exhausted, freezing and wearing the same clothes for three days straight, expecting my mother t
o slam the door in my face.
My wet clothes hug my body like a second skin as crystal pellets of hail rain down on me. Dazed and confused, I blink to deflect the water sticking to my eyelashes and stare at the run-down trailer in front of me.
Starting for the door, I wonder how she ended up in a place like this. I don’t dwell on it though. No one knows better than me that a lot can happen in two years. Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles against the door and divert my attention to the dirt covered window, noticing the dim flicker of light behind the grime. The door swings open and instinctively I turn, facing my mother for the first time. Our eyes lock and I realize I’m staring at a total stranger.
Appearing far older than her years, she’s thinner than I remember and even with the darkness of a gray sky, it’s easy to spot the pockmarks and sores that decorate her face.
“Lincoln?” she rasps in that familiar voice of hers.
Tearing my gaze away from the marks on her face, I lift my eyes to hers. The shock that was there a moment ago fades and sparks of recognition seep through. Reaching out, her hand hesitates a fraction before it touches my cheek and brushes away the drops of rain.
“It’s really you,” she says, dropping her hand and pulling me into the tiny trailer. Once the door closes behind us, I still can’t bring myself to find my voice. I take in the cluttered space, the dated furniture and the piles of newspapers that are stacked all around. A putrid scent wafts through the air but I’m not sure if it’s the trailer that stinks or myself.
“I don’t have anything for you to change into but, here put this over your shoulders,” she says, handing me a faded brown blanket.
“Thank you,” I finally respond. Startled at the sound of my voice, she freezes in place. Staring at me with disbelief, her dull eyes fill with tears.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Come, you must be starving. I’ll make you something,” she adds, turning toward the small kitchen. I watch idly as she moves around, pulling a dirty frying pan from the loaded sink and drops it on top of a burner. She grabs the eggs from the fridge and starts cracking them into the pan. With a cigarette in one hand and a spatula in the other, she does her best to make me breakfast. Her lips move but I don’t hear a single word as I try to mentally understand how my mother ended up like this.
It’s obvious she’s on something, what that it is I can’t be sure. I always thought she was against drugs. In fact, it was the very reason she took me away from my old man. At least that’s the story she always gave me. She wanted more for me. She wanted me to have a good life and wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fall into my father’s lifestyle. I don’t know if it’s ironic or just plain sad that she fell into drugs and not me. I’m leaning toward sad considering I’m the one who drove her to this new life of hers.
If I hadn’t left, then my mother wouldn’t look like this.
Shoving a dish in front of me, she sits across from me and tips her chin toward the charred eggs on my plate.
“Eat,” she orders. “I’ll go into town later and get some groceries. Tonight, I’ll make you your favorite dinner and tomorrow after you’ve slept some we’ll get you some clothes,” she continues to ramble on, flicking the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor. “Did you drive here?”
“Mom,” I say hoarsely, pushing the eggs away.
“They’re a little burnt but you can just pick the blackened parts away,” she insists. Leaning over the tiny table, she reaches for the fork. Grabbing her wrist, I shake my head.
“We need to talk,” I insist. The effort to explain why I’m here is wasted because she continues to spit plans at me. Releasing her hand, I nod in defeat and pretend to listen.
It isn’t until she mentions Savannah that I truly lose my patience with her.
“I’m so glad you decided to come back home. Since you’re alone, I’m assuming Savannah and you are no longer a thing. That girl was no good for you, Lincoln. Nice and all but she was always filling your head with dreams you’d never see come true. It’s a good thing you cut—”
“She was murdered,” I snap, angrily. The weight of the last thirty-six hours slams into me, reminding me of every detail. The moment I realized I made a mistake and underestimated Sally, searching for Savannah, learning that sick fuck took her—it all flashes in my mind and before I can stop myself, I tell my mother every detail I remember.
“She was hanging from a hook in a freezer, like a piece of meat. They cut her up in front of me,” I shout. “And then they fed the pieces of her into a grinder,” I cry. “I don’t remember the last words she said to me or the last time I heard her sing but, I will always remember the sound her bones made when that maniac put them through that machine.”
The tears stream down my cheeks as my confessions cause my mother to sober up. Her eyes widen in horror as she pushes her chair back and steps around the small table.
“It’s all my fault,” I continue, looking up at her as she comes to my side. “You were right, I’m the devil.”
Shaking her head, tears fall from her eyes as she kneels next to me and takes me into her arms. It’s there in the solace of her touch I truly break down and sob. The last two years of pretending I’m a man fades and I’m reminded that I’m someone’s child, an eighteen-year-old boy who has lived on the streets and has eaten out of dumpsters. A misguided boy who thought he could make it in this cold world and failed.
She consoles me for what seems like hours before finally moving me to her couch. Once seated, she doesn’t let me go. She promises me everything will be okay and assures me I’m safe. Those are the last words I hear her mutter before I fall asleep in her arms like a lost child who has finally found his way home.
A persistent banging wakes me eventually and I force my eyes open. It takes me a moment to recognize my surroundings and the memory of the night before surfaces. Glancing around the trailer, I look for my mother and notice the door to her bedroom is closed. Pushing the blanket off, I get a whiff of myself and vow to take a shower the second I get rid of whoever keeps knocking on the damn door.
On my feet, I cross the room and pull open the door. Dressed head to toe in black, a big beast of a man stares back at me, exuding danger. Figuring he’s one of Sally’s guys, my first instinct is to slam the door in his face and run. The beast must sense it because he shoves his booted foot in the doorjamb just as I go to close it.
“Jesus Christ, you’re the spitting image of your old man,” he grunts. The tension rolls off my shoulders as I realize he’s not here on Sally’s behalf and my eyes slice to the patches sewn to his leather vest.
Satan’s insignia.
“I wouldn’t know I’ve never met him,” I retort, lifting my gaze back to his face.
“Listen, kid, I was a good friend of your father’s and your mother called me—”
“I’ll go get her for you then,” I say, turning around. The door closes behind me and I head toward the bedroom. Knocking first, I enter the messy room and find it empty aside from the clothes that are strewn all over the bed.
With a sigh, I close the door and head back to the man who doesn’t look surprised that my mother isn’t in her bedroom.
“She must’ve gone into town,” I say, crossing my arms. The scent of my own body odor makes me nauseous and I eagerly try to dismiss him so I can shower. “I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
“I’m not here for your mother,” he replies, smoothing a hand over his salt and pepper hair. Cupping the back of his neck, he glances around the trailer and tries to mask the look of disgust. “She called me on your behalf,” he goes on. “Says you’re in trouble.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why she thought to call you. I don’t need anyone.”
“That so?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Smells like you need a bar of fucking soap,” he growls as he waves a hand in front of his nose. “Jesus, kid, when was the last time you took a shower?”
There is no sense in explaining the ni
ghtmare I’ve been living over the last few days so, I ignore the question and nod toward the door.
“Sorry, you wasted your time. I will let my mother know you stopped by.”
Shaking his head, he chuckles.
“Trying to get rid of me, eh? I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Your mother says you got in deep with some sick fuck. Now, I’m gonna take you away from here, keep you safe like I promised her I would and there ain’t shit you’re gonna do to stop me.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“The guy who is giving you another shot at life.”
Rolling my eyes at his empty promise, I cross my arms against my chest and stare at him as if he’s a mutant.
“You some miracle worker or something?”
“No, I’m the big bad Wolf, kid. A name your old man gave me many years ago.”
“You keep bringing him up like it means something to me. I never met my father and from what I heard he wasn’t a good man.” In fact, I’m willing to bet my father wasn’t much different from Sally and judging by the gun tucked into his waist, neither is the self-proclaimed Wolf.
The front door squeaks open and we both turn our attention to my mother. With her arms full of bags, she looks a little less ragged. Her eyes meet Wolf’s and relief seems to settle over her features.
“You came,” she whispers.
“I said I would,” he replies, taking the bags from her hands.
“Thank you,” she says hoarsely and turns her attention to me. “I got you some clothes,” she explains, pointing a finger toward the bags the leather-clad beast carries into the kitchen.
“What is this?” I ask jutting a thumb at Wolf.
“Lincoln,” she starts, closing the distance between us. Drawing in a deep breath, she caresses my cheek with the back of her hand. “I love you,” she whispers. “From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I loved you.”
Confused by the admission of truth, I blink and reach for her hand.
“Back then, that love made it easy to kick my habit. Your father loved you too—he did but, he loved his drugs more and it wasn’t so easy for him to clean up. Things got worse, he got in too deep and being sober I was no longer blind to the violent world I was bringing you into. I thought I was doing the right thing taking you away. I thought the further I took you from that life, from him, the safer you’d be—”
The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition Page 99