Shellshock (Spent Shells, #2)

by Hunter, Bijou

  “I understand.”

  “My own mother turned me into a weapon. No one has ever cared if I lived or died, and I refuse to believe you’re any different.”

  When he falls silent, I ask, “And?”

  “And I said I love you, so back off and stop nagging me.” Though I shouldn’t giggle, he sounds so childish. “You laugh when I tell you I love you. Typical woman.”

  “No, I laugh at how you think this is nagging. The night I knocked at your door for ten minutes, well, now that was nagging. This is me being honest.”

  “Women lie,” he sneers.

  “So do men.”

  “Not like women.”

  “Just because the people who lied to you the most happened to be women doesn’t mean they lie more than men. The problem is when you look at me, you see your mother and Priscilla and the others who’ve wronged you.”

  “I don’t see them when I look at you,” he snarls and turns away. “That’s the real problem. I let myself believe you’re different.” With his back to me, he begins speaking in a higher, mocking voice, “Neri doesn’t play games. She tells the truth. She isn’t using me.” Cobain glares back at me. “All lies.”

  “Certainly, some of those are lies. Of course, I play games and lie. I’m a human being. But when you wanted to stay at the safe house, I didn’t trick you into following. As much as I wanted you to live, I refused to guilt you into living. But then you did choose to live, and now I own you. We decided that already. Did you forget?”

  Cobain refuses to smile, but I see amusement in his dark eyes. “This is all a joke.”

  “No, my heart is in your hands. There’s nothing funny about how much you could hurt me.”

  “I’m more worried about you hurting me.”

  “Because you love me?” I ask, stepping closer and giving him a knowing smile. “Do you worship me, Cobain?”

  “I need you to worship me.”

  “Well, I can’t right now. My father could kick open the door and find us. I’ll have to worship you later when they’re asleep.”

  Cobain finally allows a smile. “You’ve trapped me much like a spider traps foolish flies in her enchanting web.”

  “Then I’ll gobble you up,” I say, poking his hard stomach. “But slowly, over many decades, savoring all you have to offer first.”

  “Decades, huh?”

  “I’d say fifty years, but I don’t know how old you are. Is that even possible?”

  “I’m thirty-nine, you nutty twat.”

  “Stop flirting. Papa is down the hall,” I tease, wrapping him in my arms. “I will take such lovely care of you, Cobain, if only you’ll let me.”

  “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “No, but wouldn’t it be fun to have a woman pamper you?”

  Cobain wraps his arms around me. “I hate your father, and I will never trust you.”

  “I love my father, and I don’t need you to trust me. Just love me, and I’ll love you.”

  “Until you don’t.”

  “I don’t know what kind of women you’ve cared for in the past, but I am very loyal and stubborn. When I need someone, I claim them forever. Even if you run away and hurt me, I will still want you. It’s my burden.”

  Cobain finally laughs. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just relieved Papa didn’t kill you, and I can make you my sex slave back home.”

  “Assuming we survive that long.”

  “I insist we do. I deserve to see you naked in the ocean.”

  Cobain’s smile fades, and I think perhaps he imagines me naked in the ocean too. Life can be that simple once we leave this country—endless sex, laughter, family, and no more loneliness.

  COBAIN

  Something disturbing occurs to me after dinner. First, I cook steaks, a quick potato gratin, and corn on the cob. Acting as my helper, Neri hands me supplies while also making lewd comments about my ass. I suspect she enjoys flirting within earshot of her parents. Neri is still a wild young woman, and I’m her bad-boy lover.

  But that’s not the disturbing realization.

  Dinner involves Anika acting adorable, and the others treating her every smile as a miracle. The kid's antics take the attention off me. Jake barely acknowledges my existence, which is a godsend. I’m already bored of his protective daddy routine.

  Then we end the evening in the two-story main room where—for some fucking reason—the movie “Elf” is chosen to watch. I sit in a chair while Neri relaxes on the floor in front of me and brushes Robin. The dog growls at her occasionally, but she just waves off his bad manners in the same way she does mine.

  Mia sits curled up in Jake’s lap. On the couch, Kai keeps Sunny against him on one side and Anika on the other. The kid didn’t get a nap, so she’s asleep thirty minutes into the movie.

  When the house shakes with the heavy winds, I think of the dogs out back in the enclosed pen. Of course, I’d never leave Robin in such bad weather. However, bringing the guard dogs inside isn’t an option. Anika and Mia flinch around Robin, and I don’t want my dog getting bullied by younger, stronger animals.

  Neri finally stops fucking around on the ground and sits in the chair next to mine. She doesn’t cuddle or flirt. I think she’s actually watching the movie. Neri has an obvious tell for when she’s relaxed. She forgets to speak in English. Throughout the movie, she makes comments in Spanish. Each time Sunny frowns with confusion, and Kai translates.

  The man can’t help babying her. Jake does the same with Mia. He whispers in her ear whenever the hail pounds the house, or the thunder rattles her nerves. Both men fell for broken women.

  My heart belongs to someone strong and healthy. There’s not a weak, damn thing about Neri. Even when she bares her soul and cries, she remains as unbreakable as Kai.

  That’s when I come to the disturbing realization that she followed in her brother and father’s footsteps by falling for a fucked-up person in need of fixing.

  I’m Sunny and Mia! Hell, I’m even more fucked up than Anika. The kid won’t remember her weird childhood by the time she’s ten. I imagine her as a teenager and then as an adult. No one will know what happened to Anika, including her.

  But Sunny will never wash away her problems. She’ll learn to hide them better. I know I did.

  Of course, I have the luxury of being an angry man. A lot of fucked-up habits can be hidden under that persona. Not that I could get away with Mia’s childlike behavior or Sunny’s wounded animal routine. I can only be the pissed predator, roaring at everyone to hide his fucked-up soul.

  I study Neri, who must know I’m watching her. She finally glances in my direction and smiles as if we’re not in a strange house with her dangerous father planning to stick me in the pit out back.

  I think of those people in there. After arriving at my safe house, I often imagined myself in the trench. Rotting away, I wouldn’t be missed by a world that never cared if I lived or died.

  This woman right here cares. She’s insane to want me, but I know she does. I can’t trust her yet, or maybe ever. I’ve been burned too often by women offering smiles and promises.

  Yet I trust that Neri is stubborn enough to hold on to me despite her father’s anger and my gruff personality. She finds me worth loving. I ought to thank her fucked-up father for giving her a false sense of the ideal mate.

  As the storm rages on, the kid wakes from a nightmare and screams about someone named Ebba taking her away.

  Despite the noise, I settle into the realization that I belong to this group. If someone came in shooting right now, I’d take a bullet for any of them. Some of that would just be to please Neri, but I think deep—very deep—down that I care about Kai, Sunny, and the crying kid too. One day, Jake and Mia might also matter. Again, my feelings for them will need to remain hidden down deep, but they’ll exist.

  Whether I like it or not, I’m no longer alone. I’m a fucked-up asshole part of a fucked-up unit, and I thi
nk—deep, deep down inside—this fact pleases me.

  KAI

  With my parents nearby, I can pretend we’re vacationing in an Airbnb house. We eat a nice meal, watch a family movie, and enjoy quiet time together. Just a holiday with the whole family.

  I turn off thoughts of the bodies in the backyard or the men waiting to grab up the “foreigners” once we’re back on the road. The Children of the Black Sun are hiding in their compounds, licking their wounds after losing so many men and wondering if they’ll ever relish their revenge. Tonight, I forget about them and enjoy how the people most important to me are in this single room.

  No matter my best efforts, tension remains electric in the air all night. Mama is on edge from the storm and strange surroundings. She eventually stops watching the movie and hides her face against Papa’s shoulder as she sits on his lap. He doesn’t want to show his concern, but I notice how his upper lip lifts into a near snarl whenever the thunder roars or the house shakes.

  Sunny isn’t comfortable either. The movie makes her sad since it’s one of the few she remembers from her childhood. By the time Anika wakes up screaming, Sunny is depressed.

  “Ebba!” Anika cries, tugging at Sunny. “Ebba take home!”

  Sunny wears the same look as when she didn’t know how to calm her agitated child at Cobain’s safe house. I suspect she thinks Anika wishes she was back at the compound with this “Ebba” woman.

  I stroke Anika’s forehead while she stares wide-eyed at Sunny. “No Ebba,” I say. “You’re going to my home with the ocean.”

  Anika wants her mother to react, but Sunny just stares back at her.

  I pull out my phone and show them the ocean waves splashing against the beach. “This is home.”

  Sunny frowns at me. She still believes Anika wishes to return to the cult.

  “Stay with Mama or go with Ebba?” I ask Anika, who begins crying.

  “Mama,” she whines, nearly crawling under Sunny’s shirt to hide from the lightning.

  Sunny immediately snaps out of her funk and rocks Anika. “No more Ebba,” she whispers. “You stay with Mama.”

  Anika points at the ceiling. “Loud.”

  “It’s a storm, but you need to stay with Kai and Mama.”

  “No Ebba,” Anika mutters, watching her mother very carefully.

  “No Ebba. Only Mama, Mama, Mama.”

  Anika smiles a little but doesn’t let go of Sunny’s shirt.

  “Why Ebba?” I ask as Sunny rocks the tired child.

  “Elba was the head of our hutch, and she had the best bed. Ours was on the ground. When it got too cold, or if there was a lot of rain, Elba took Anika to her bed.”

  “Mama,” Anika says, panicking again.

  “We have a new bed tonight,” Sunny says. “Kai, Mama, and Anika in a bed.”

  “No Ebba,” Anika insists and then notices me watching her.

  “Do you want to go to bed now or stay here?” I ask.

  Anika doesn’t react to my question. She has no clue what she wants beyond Sunny’s arms around her. Her gaze returns to her mother, who hums the ABC song. I rest my head against Sunny’s shoulder and watch Anika. When the child notices me again, she smiles.

  “I love Mama,” I say and kiss Sunny’s cheek.

  Anika’s smile grows, and she sits up so she can kiss Sunny’s other cheek. When the next thunder rolls through, she doesn’t flinch as much. Her focus is on her mother, whose confidence rebounds once she knows Anika doesn’t crave that other woman back at the cult.

  Glancing at Papa, I ask, “How are we handling security tonight?”

  “No one is hitting the house while this storm continues,” he insists.

  “Then I think we’ll head to bed now.”

  Standing, I gesture for Anika to let me carry her. The sleepy girl reluctantly leaves her mother’s arms, and Sunny quickly joins us. I look at my sister sitting with her feet up in a recliner next to her man, who refuses to put up his feet. Resting between their chairs, Robin opens his eyes and growls at me.

  I walk to the chair where Papa holds Mama. She looks up when I stroke the top of her blonde head.

  “Where are you going?” she whispers.

  “To bed.”

  “In this place?” she says, sounding tired.

  “Yes. We’ll all sleep tonight while the storm keeps us safe. Then in the morning, Cobain can cook us breakfast.”

  Neri snickers at my comment and extends her foot to nudge Cobain’s leg. He doesn’t react, but I think he likes how much we enjoy his cooking. If not, he would probably complain more about feeding us.

  After Mama strokes my cheek and then Anika’s foot, I leave the main room and walk down a dark hallway toward the bedroom I picked earlier. Anika watches her mother over my shoulder. I know she’d rather Sunny carry her, but my woman looks ready to drop.

  Soon, we are settled on the queen-sized bed. Anika holds Duck and Doll, but her gaze remains locked on Sunny.

  “I love you,” her mama whispers. “Do you love Mama?”

  Anika nods and whispers the words. My heart soars at watching Sunny find her confidence as a mother. Earlier, she stumbled and fell back into her old habits. I’m proud of how quickly she took charge.

  As our daughter returns to sleep, I help Sunny relax by going through the plan. After the storm, we’ll return to the road and head straight for a small airport. Using a friend’s plane, we’ll fly to Texas, where we’ll get enough fuel to fly the rest of the way to Nicaragua. Then after a few more hours of driving, we’ll be home.

  Sunny fears flying. I could promise to give her a sedative, but she won’t understand. Instead, I focus on something more tangible.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll see about having my parents and Neri watch Ani so you and I can be alone.”

  Sunny’s worried gaze immediately warms. Knowing I have her attention, I continue, “We’ll spend a few hours in here, learning what else you want me to touch.”

  Without a doubt, Sunny blushes in the dark. Her lips curl into an excited smile as her thoughts return to last night in the hotel. After I made her orgasm, Sunny watched me masturbate. Her aroused expression was all the stimuli I needed. Tomorrow, she’ll learn more about her body and mine.

  Sunny is convinced that sex will free her. If she embraces what she was taught to hate, she can burn away the rest of their rules and abuse.

  Of course, I know she’s wrong. Trauma stains the mind. It’s why my mother reverts to a childlike response when she’s scared and overwhelmed. At home, she doesn’t need Papa at her side every second. She cooks and dances and walks out to the beach without needing someone to hold her hand.

  Growing up, I didn’t think of my mother as a child. In her element, Mama shines. My father doesn’t growl so much or get so stuck worrying about potential threats. At home, they find their way.

  No doubt Sunny will act similarly. Before she can adjust, though, she needs a sense of purpose and belonging. She’ll sleep in the same bed every night and wake up to the same people every morning. She’ll have new rules to replace the ones the cult drilled in her head.

  Sunny might be wrong about sex acting as a salve for the years she spent submitting. Yet it’s a goal she can focus on rather than worrying about planes or bounties on our lives.

  Besides, there are few sights more gorgeous than her face when she feels pleasure. Tomorrow, I hope to enjoy that look again.

  NERI

  After the movie ends, Papa wants to take Mama to bed where he can distract her in ways that I—as their child—have no interest in witnessing. The problem is he refuses to leave me in the main room alone with Cobain to do what he—as my parent—has no interest in occurring. Papa needs the lie that I’m going to bed, and Cobain will sleep somewhere else. Only then, can he help my mother calm down as the storm threatens to tear off the roof.

  Offering Papa what he needs, I tell Cobain goodnight, kiss Mama on the head, and then leave the TV room. Once I’m gone, my parents retire to their bed
room. I don’t immediately return to Cobain since I’ll have to pass Mama and Papa’s room. No way will my father not pick up on the movement.

  Instead, I hang out in the armory, where I admire a stockpile of weapons that any small army would appreciate. My attention settles on a Taurus Spectrum that’s too small for the men who lived at this safe house. The sporty gun—with its turquoise grip—suits a woman like myself.

  “So, are we not fucking tonight?” Cobain grumbles after entering the room and shutting the door behind him.

  “Of course, we are. Don’t you understand how lying works?”

  I glance over my shoulder to find Cobain adjusting to my words. His poor feelings were hurt when he thought I ditched him for the evening. I reach out and stroke his bearded jaw as a reminder that I’m, in fact, his.

  “These weapons belong to the Arizona Moving Company, yes?” I ask in English before remembering we’re alone, and I can switch to Spanish. “So, would it be stealing from the Company if I took this pistol?”

  “The SUV you’ve been driving for days belongs to them too.”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  “But your father paid for help, and the fee included the car.”

  “Think whatever he paid to stay here includes my stealing this gun?”

  Cobain finally smiles. “Take what you want. I highly doubt the dead assholes did inventory on smaller weapons. Their activity logs are shit.”

  “Not like yours,” I soothe as my arms wrap around his waist. “Do you miss your safe house?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t promise you a house with so many dark hallways. However, years ago, Papa bought the homes next to ours because he couldn’t tolerate the neighbors spying on us. One of the houses is meant to be mine. You’ll have a gourmet kitchen, and a bedroom large enough for a giant bed with the best mattress.”

  Cobain frowns because he doesn’t want me to believe that he cares about the future. I don’t mind his scowling. Cobain is no longer a stranger, and I understand how he works. He can’t hope for anything because hope is a sign of weakness. People fuck you over if you care. That’s why he refuses to show any emotion except anger.