by Ellie Jean
“Man, I’m sorry about M—”
I can’t hear it yet. “Yeah, me too.”
My mind drifts and I see my sister lying peacefully on the ground, but there’s no blood. Her hand is holding another, my eyes travel up the slender arm and shoulder, revealing blood seeping everywhere over blue material. My foot presses down hard, my arms rigid on the steering wheel. Traveling up farther, my eyes land on the face of Phoebe. Red splashes covering part of her face, the other marred by bruising. Her dress is torn and dirty.
A squealing noise brings me back to the present, the car swerving across the lanes of the road, jerking back as I right the steering wheel and decrease my hurtling speed.
Fuck.
Pulling to the side of the road, I thump my hands on the wheel and a torrent of tears flow out. My clever, witty, and beautiful sister is gone. Through no fault of her own, she was gunned down.
It could have been Phoebe.
Holy fucking hell.
Phoebe was only feet away and security was tight, yet a gunman got through. Our lives proving to be deadly to my sister. A family member, who thought losing money in a poker machine was corruption at its worst. She’d never hurt anyone.
Loving my sister with all of my heart, if it had been Phoebe, I’m unsure if I would be seeking revenge or shooting myself.
Probably both.
Shaking my head, trying to breathe and recoup myself, I think I have some insight into why the guys want to go legit.
The gunman has hit home.
Melody’s dead.
A loved one has died because of our life choices.
Thump… Thump… Thump. Blackened by his clothing, I see Slate’s outline by my window.
“Fuck, man.” Jolting back to the task about to unfold, I unlock the door. “You ready?”
Slate’s fist is curled by his side. “No one lives.”
“Good, we’re on the same page.” Squashing the blunt out, I take my gun and hold it by my side. “They should be out in five minutes.”
“Are the brothers stupid enough to think we won’t retaliate?” Slate takes his piece from his waistband, ready for anything.
“Firstly, they believe they’ve killed Kyle and secondly, it’s your wedding night so they possibly think we will hit them but not so soon.” We stand near the car in the shadows. “When some of them walked in earlier, they looked calm and collected. Not even a spotter.”
“We need Phoebe’s brother before we dispose of them all. I want him dead.”
“Agreed.” Torn between avenging my sister and killing my woman’s brother weighs heavily.
How will she look at me again knowing I’m the one who has taken the life of her brother? Do I chance losing her as well?
What a fucking nightmare today has turned into. I should be wrapped in between her legs, enjoying her scent and taste. Phoebe should be riding my cock, instead, we are both alone and my sister’s dead.
Watching the doorway, we’re on high alert. The streetlights are dull, the ones above the workshop, bright. Pulling my hood down, a crack appears at the door.
Slate and I are ready to pounce. I aim to take the head guy out and two of his brothers, leaving the young boy who has only been initiated into this world months ago. He must be all of sixteen.
“Leave Rico. He’ll tell us what we need to know.”
Two soldiers and two of the brothers stride out. Their dark cars parked only feet from the opening. Silently, Slate makes his way right and I go left, covering all bases.
With tunnel vision, my hand gripping the silenced pistol easily, my eyes focus on the four men, none of which are the youngest.
Rounding the car so we are in plain sight, I open fire, hitting the two soldiers first, Slate takes out one of the middle brothers and I finish off the other guy. Clean shots, the bodies drop to the ground before anyone realizes what the fuck is happening, unaware to call for backup. Dragging their bodies from plain sight, we prepare for the next lot of men to come through the exit.
Looking at Slate, a fire reflecting in his dark eyes, we wait behind the Mercedes. My heart is beating steadily and I’m calm knowing I am ridding the world of the scum who had my sister killed.
Slate takes a shot at the next guy who comes through the door, narrowly missing him, but takes him down when he tries to find cover.
“Fuck.” The young kid comes out, starry-eyed, looking at the carnage on the ground in front of him.
“Rico, get down,” his brother yells from the side, looking at the dead body.
Grabbing Rico from behind, my arm holds him still but the gun against his temple keeps his brother’s eyes on me, holding him in place. His eyes stabbing me.
“You killed my sister.”
Scanning my face, his eyes flick with uncertainly for a second before his stoic stare is back. “I ordered a hit on Kyle Sawyer.”
Slate pops his gun, the silence of the bullet taking this idiot by surprise. “Aahh.” Holding his shoulder, he turns, looking straight into Slate’s lethal eyes.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with when you order a hit on my brother-in-law and you did it on my wedding day? You have some balls.”
“Where is the idiot you hired?” The gun pushes into the scalp of the young kid making him tremble, but his brother doesn’t understand how thin the thread is holding me from pulling the trigger.
“No idea.”
“Your brother’s a dick.” I let Rico know his brother just served himself up on a platter. Moving his feet marginally, his knees wobbling more, I pull back on the skinny kid’s neck, he lets out a choked sound.
“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause now I have to kill you.” Slate raises his hand fast, his finger pulling the trigger. The eldest brother drops to the ground with a thud.
Usually excitement and energy would be surging through me, but tonight I’m numb.
Our goal is to find Colton Kearney and if anyone gets in my way, they will be killed without a second thought.
Leaning into the young kid, I growl, “Tell us where the guy is, or you will end up like your family. We know you don’t want this life, Rico. It’s been a demand placed on you. If you tell us where Kearney is, you can have the life you’ve wanted.”
These guys are amateurs, who were trying to make their way into the big league. No security, swollen heads bigger than their brains and skills, and no respect for the families who have walked these streets for years, keeping it ordered and for the most part police-free, solving matters ourselves, profiting everyone.
Squirming against my arm for the umpteenth time, his strength is diminishing and so is his bravado.
“He won’t ask again.” Slate moves in front, his body dwarfing the kids.
Nodding his head the best he can, I release his neck a little.
“I didn’t see him, but my brother said this guy was a stand-alone hitman, who contacted us regarding the job, stating he had personal reasons for wanting it. We stopped at an apartment in the Westside. Part payment of cash was given to him to complete the job.”
Slate hands him his phone. “Punch in the address.”
My gun stays on his head, but I take my arm from him. “Get out of this life. Take this as your chance to start over. If we cross paths again, you won’t know because we will have a bullet between your eyebrows quicker than you can blink. Do you understand?” Slate reaches in Rico’s pockets while he finishes the address, taking his phone. The guy doesn’t have a gun, they left him unarmed. Idiots.
Retrieving his phone and the address, the young guy’s shoulders are slumped, his eyes are tired, and he is defeated but there’s a small spark telling me he’s ready to sprint away from this carnage and start a life of his own.
“Don’t be a fool or a hero, Rico.” Slate and I turn and walk back to our car, ready for the next round.
Countless times I’ve heard, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but does it?
Broken, shattered, confused at different times, I may
have gotten back up but each time a slim part of me was shredded away. Like a piece of wood being sanded or left out in the weather, it gets thinner and weaker. It may still stand but nothing can really make it stronger except a new prop to support it.
I haven’t had support, yet I still ask even though it’s futile.
“I need you, Mom.” Tears swell in my eyes but don’t fall. Why is it I still think about her when times are tough? Abandoned by her, she hasn’t helped me once when I needed it. No one has.
Except Ocean.
Curled around myself in bed, my thirteen-year-old body decides it needs to become a woman… now. Hurting from being hit across the back earlier by Dad and the broomstick at work, my stomach cramps but my face is pounding more.
Trying to speak to Dad at work about needing some products for my period, was useless. He looked at me like five heads appeared before him. He muttered something to himself, before leaving me standing out back, bereft and worried. No protection was going to be a major problem.
Taking matters into my own hands, when both Dad and Colton were out back, I found some on the shelf and put them into a bag and left. I knew I would have to deal with the repercussions later, but I didn’t realize it would be so bad.
Seven o’clock came and Dad walked into the house drunk. Loud and rude, he hollered for me to come and heat his dinner I left out for him. Colton ate with me, but he left as soon as he had finished, leaving me to work out how my body was adjusting to womanhood by myself. Which after Dad’s reaction was fine by me.
“You little bitch.” Keeping my head down, I placed the plate in the microwave and watched it spin. I hate it when he’s like this.
“I knew you would be a problem like your mother. Complaining when she was on the rag.”
Shifting my feet, I pray the food to hurry up.
“No doubt you’ll trick some poor prick into having sex now, just like your mother did, trapping me.”
Retrieving the food, I scrunch my face up thinking about being anywhere near a guy like that. No way will that be happening, I would have no idea what to do, and besides I’ve heard other older people at school say it hurts.
“Here you go, Daddy.”
Wham…
The plate of food flies from my hands and shatters everywhere, flinging the lasagna throughout the small kitchen.
Whack…
The back of his hand connects across my cheek. Pain radiates through my face. Losing my footing, I fall onto the floor, the ceramic plate pieces digging into my skin. Clenching my mouth to keep me from screaming in pain, I start to clean.
“You’re all the same. Using that shit to get out of work and priorities. On your knees is where all women belong, that way there’s no excuses. It can be any time of the month.”
Nodding my head, I won’t say a word because it will only make things worse and I am not quite sure what he means.
“That’s about the only decent thing your mother did.” Standing near me, a look I haven’t seen before settles on his face. “Come here.”
Pain pierces my knee with each movement, blood seeping from it. My cheek’s hot and my stomach churns rapidly. Hair prickles on the back of my neck and I stop moving.
“I said come over here.”
“Daddy?”
His legs move toward me, and I cower below him. “With your dark hair and blue eyes, you’re so much like her.” His voice sounds like he is a million miles away. Raising my eyebrows, his face morphs into someone I don’t know. “Undo my pants.” His loud voice scares me.
My hands tremble at my side and I cannot make them move.
“Open my zipper. Since you’re now a woman, it’s time you learned a few things.”
Standing still, I shake my head, my lips tightly closed.
A bang like thunder cracks from his mouth. “Now.”
Jumping in fright, I push up and sprint for my room. With my head down, I reach it and cower beside my bed in the corner, making myself as small as possible.
I can’t hear anything over my thumping heart, but I expect he will be in behind me.
Huddled on the floor, minutes pass and I allow my tongue to wet my dry lips silently. I haven’t shed a tear or moved a muscle in case he hears me. I need to keep myself invisible. Although if he walked through the door, he would see me within a second.
More time passes. My arms ache from being clenched against my knees, my neck stiff from leaning it on the side to make myself smaller, my butt against the floor aches. It’s not until I hear footsteps pass my door, that I finally give in and crawl to the side of my bed. Waiting there a good ten minutes, I maneuver myself onto my bed and wrap the blanket around me. Releasing my anguish, tears fall steadily.
“Mom, why did you leave me behind?” Sniffling, I try to keep my noise down by covering my head with the blanket. “I really need you, Mommy.”
Jerking my head up, my eyelids are stuck together.
Wiping away the crystallized tears, I try and blink.
As I grow older, I understand why Mom left. But what I don’t comprehend is why didn’t she take me with her. Leaving us, her children with a monster created another evil monster and left me a victim to both of them. In my mature mind now, she is like them. A villain who thought of herself, not about her children like parents are supposed to. But every now and then, I still find myself crying out for her warmth and nurturing, forgetting I’m a grown woman who was abandoned by her flesh and blood, who is capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for long enough now.
Having Ocean look after me for that small amount of time gave me a glimpse into what it’s like when you have that special person who will do anything for you. Unsure if tonight is the end, Ocean did say he wanted me to stay with him, but this could be asking too much.
Being with the sister of the brother who killed his beloved Melody.
Hmmm…
Closing my eyes, I shake all over, my breathing shallow.
Through years of being absent, over time when we were both hurt, we found our way back to each other. I have to believe when a soul finds its match, like his sister whispered about us, a small touch or a smile can be enough, supporting you to plow through anything so we can make it out the other side together, hand in hand.
Soul mates can’t stay apart.
Can they?
“I got this, man. Go home to your wife and get outta here for a couple of days.”
Slapping me on the back, Slate moves toward his car. “I know you want to do this alone, but you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do.” Climbing inside, I rev the engine and take off following the GPS to Colton Kearney. Scorching already from the past five minutes, my head is clear.
He will be dead before the night’s over.
Sitting across from the address Rico punched in my cell, I scan the dark surroundings. The streetlights are broken, there’s junk piled on the dirt ground a few doors down and a few old cars line the road. A rat runs out from the garage pile. It looks like all the vermin live in this neighborhood.
Blood thrashes in my ears, my entire body alert and ready.
Each movement I make is magnified, the nerves and muscles stretch as I take my gun, refilling the bullets, the veins in my legs pump walking across the dirt and the tendons in my neck are rigid, swiveling my head looking for any signs of the scumbag.
Only silence fills the night.
Casing the outside of the shack, which really is too nice a word for the trash heap of wood constructed to form some type of liveable area, blackness envelops the house. A shadow of webs already consumes me, keeping me hyper-vigilant. But there’s nothing.
The back door is almost off its hinges and I easily swing the door, walking in like I own the place. A stench invades my nose. My gut dry heaves, it’s so disgusting.
There’s a sink and small table covered in filth, scattered beer cans, and leftover food breeding mold. A can rattles on the floor, and I spot an animal scurrying from underneath it. My
stomach cramps again, but my legs carry me forward slowly, through a slight archway into a living area.
“Thought you’d be still crying over your dead sister.” A bang erupts, but the bullet is nowhere near me.
My eyes fill with fire and my finger pulls the trigger, but I aim at his leg. Striking it effortlessly.
A dull scream roars. His pistol drops to the wooden floor and skids away.
“You motherfucker.” Pacing the floor, all I want to do is finish this bastard off. But I can’t. Not yet.
He’s been waiting for us and I won’t disappoint him.
Firing my gun again, I lodge a bullet in his thigh. This time, his yell is more restrained. “I should shoot you dead now.”
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Holding his thigh, still sitting, blood oozes from it and the lower leg. He wants me to kill him. I hold my gun firmly, pointing it at his head. It would be so easy to take his life.
Breathing in, I steady my thoughts.
All in good time.
“You’re a coward, killing an innocent woman in cold blood.”
Sweat beads and runs down his nose. His chin lifts in defiance. “She was a fucking whore like the rest of them.”
Tightening my hands, I’m so close to exploding, but instead I walk toward him and lodge my fist into his stomach and the side of his face. I need him to be coherent for a while longer. I won’t let Colton fuck with my mind.
Sitting in the car earlier, remembering all the good Melody brought to everyone’s lives, revenge was a priority, but Phoebe also played on my mind.
The guilt, the hurt and broken-heartedness eating at me is something Phoebe doesn’t need. Killing her brother will bring sadness to her. It has too even after everything he’s done to her, they are still blood.
If I cared about Phoebe, wouldn’t I do everything to stop her from experiencing grief?
At the end of the day, Colton is still her brother.
But where it differs is my sister was everything to me. Melody was the sun in my darkness, she was my umbrella in a storm and the only home I have truly known. I was her crutch and savior and she was my conscience showing me how to use my heart.