Shooting Scars: The Artists Trilogy 2

by Karina Halle

  “How could you do that to her?” I said softly. “You … that you were capable of that when I was with you … I …”

  He finished his drink then filled up my own glass with more. I was too stunned to wave him off. “This happened a few months after you left.”

  “You were just a young kid,” I said, unable to accept it. Seeing him kill his best friend in our kitchen was one thing. But knowing that just a few months after I left him he was the kind of man who was capable of murdering a woman he was sleeping with, pretending to be in love with, in such a brutal way, to prove an awful point was … I didn’t even know what it was.

  “Everything changed after you left,” he said, watching me closely. “Everything.”

  A burst of indignation flared up inside my chest. “Don’t you dare blame this on me. Don’t you dare!”

  “You left without even a note …”

  “You fucked another woman, in our bed!”

  “I told you, it meant nothing.”

  I nearly crushed the glass with my hand. “I didn’t know that at the time! I didn’t know how little she meant to you. How obviously little human life means to you! You did what you did and you never had to do it. Your so-called excuse only makes things worse. Fuck, Javier! All of this for nothing. Just so you could have your fucking revenge and kill people. You’re nothing but a beast, a cold-hearted monster, not even fit to have two legs. Not even worth that heart beating in your chest.”

  He was staring at me like he hadn’t even heard a word I said, so I added, with as much venom as I could muster. “You disgust me.”

  He blinked a few times, then put his arm around the back of the couch and eyed his watch and the wish tattoo it was covering up. “Well, at least disgust is still something.”

  I shook my head, words and sentences trying to come together inside but nothing fit. Nothing made any sense. I downed the rest of my drink in one go.

  “You said we ruined each other,” he went on, his voice lower now. “Both of us wouldn’t be here now if we hadn’t.”

  I wiped my mouth. “And what makes you think I like where I am?”

  He crossed his ankle on his knee, a flash of dark gold skin between his Topside shoes and navy pants. No socks.

  “Because I introduced you to your true self. I made you see the world as you were born to see it. You’re not good, Ellie.”

  I scowled at him. “You sound like Raul now.”

  “No, I am nothing like Raul. I only see the truth. I opened you up to the life you were born to live. You came from … you only knew this growing up. It is in your blood just as it is in my blood. We lead the lives we were meant to, lives that are exciting and dangerous and full of power. We are strong. We are so alike, so very alike, that sometimes I wish you had told me back then who you really were.”

  “You would have killed me if you found out,” I said. I feared it then but I knew it now. My hand would have been tossed into the sea, like that angel doll.

  He seemed to consider that, angling his head. “Maybe I would have. I loved you so much, so much.”

  “Loving someone enough to kill them?”

  He smiled caustically. “It’s the romantic in me.”

  Suddenly he reached forward and put his hand on my knee. I flinched, my heart exploding in my chest, my eyes frozen wide.

  “I’m glad you are afraid of me, my dear,” he said, his fingers tightening on my knee ever so slightly. “I’m glad I disgust you. The more you feel these things so strongly, the more you’ll realize how right I am. That you and I are the same. That I can help you get what I have—the power, the pride, the respect. I can make you my queen. And you’ll give up on trying to be good, to be better. You are better now.”

  I felt as if something was lodged in my throat. “I sacrificed my life in order to save Camden and his family. I am good.”

  He leaned forward, his lips going to my ear. I held absolutely still, watching the dark waves roll past beyond his shoulder.

  “You sacrificed nothing and gained everything. You chose to be with me. Now own it.” His breath tickled hot, even when he pulled away.

  After placing his drink on the side table, he began to descend the stairs into his quarters, his silhouette stark against the glow of the cabin. His voice called out, “Sleep well, angel,” and was carried away by the night wind on the Gulf. Even then, I still felt his breath on my neck. The lingering heat. Those damaging words that were oh so slowly getting under my skin.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAMDEN

  One moment I was backing away from the guy slowly, hands in the air in a show of peace. In the next a gunshot rang out from somewhere inside the house. I froze in place, forgetting what Gus had told me, which was to run and get the hell out of there. Instead I acted on instinct.

  As the man whipped around in surprise to stare back into the house, I grabbed the gun out of my waistband. I was smart to do so because in the next second, before he even turned back around to see me, to see the pistol, he was going for the gun he had on him.

  Unfortunately for him, I beat him to it. I held the gun steady in my hand, pointed right at his head and said calmly, “Don’t you fucking move.”

  The man raised his hands slowly and a stupid smile was plastered on his face. “Hey man, we don’t want no trouble.”

  “Gus!” I yelled at the house, coming closer until I was a foot away, gun still aimed and ready. “Ellie!”

  “Oh,” the man said in surprise. “You are here for the bitch.”

  Without thinking, I whipped the neck of the gun on his temple, right on his injury.

  The man cried out and grabbed his head, dropping to the ground but I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him back up. I flung him against the door, his head rattling against it and shoved the gun underneath his chin.

  “Listen to me you piece of shit,” I said, my voice breaking with rage. “Where is she? You tell me where she is. Tell me!”

  The man didn’t look scared at all. The blackness settled in, stoking the fire, and made me drive the end of the gun further into his throat, until I was sure I could feel his pulse riding down the barrel.

  “Tell me!” I screamed, not caring if I was attracting attention. If that gunshot was for Ellie … so help me God. I’d burn the entire house down with everyone in it.

  He clamped his lips shut, as if daring me to shoot him. I knocked him in the temple again, the blood running harder down his face and then dragged him inside the house. It was dark on the first floor but the upstairs led to rooms bathed in the sunset.

  “Gus!” I yelled again.

  “Up here,” he said from the second floor. He sounded fine.

  “Where is she? I’ve got someone but he won’t talk.”

  “Mine won’t either.”

  I went up the stairs, dragging the man up until the polo shirt began to rip. I dug one hand into his arm and kept the gun firmly pressed against his ribs. He kept stumbling over the steps thanks to the blood in his eyes but I didn’t care.

  I walked into a small sitting area and a kitchen that faced a porch through two French doors. One of the doors was open, a salty breeze coming through. This is where Ellie would have had her dinners. Had she cooked for him? Did they have morning coffees together?

  “I’m here,” said Gus and I followed his voice down a hallway to an open door at the end, ignoring the cramp in my hand from holding the gun so tightly. I peered inside the room and saw Gus standing at the foot of an unmade bed, a bullet hole in the wall. On the floor was a large bald guy, shot in the shoulder, a gun a foot from his open hand. Blood was soaking the carpet beneath him.

  I know what I’d just done to the man in my hands, but the sight still took my breath away.

  “Is he dead?” I asked.

  Gus nodded, eyes still on him, as if he was expecting the guy to jump up from the grave. “Unfortunately I had to shoot first, then ask the questions.” He looked to me, noticing the guy for the first time. “Who is that
?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He answered the door. He knows about Ellie.”

  Gus shook his head. “She’s not here.”

  “How do you know?”

  He shrugged and kicked the guy’s leg. “I just do. They’re gone, Javier and her. Raul. His bodyguards. These guys are sloppy. They’re the ones who get left behind to water the plants.”

  The man in my hands grunted, as if insulted by that remark.

  “Well I guess we should try and get him to talk,” Gus said coming closer. He peered at the man, then shot me a look I could have taken as impressed on any other day. “Re-injuring an injury. Smart boy.” He pointed at the bed. “Here, set him down. We’ve both got guns, he’s not going anywhere.”

  I yanked him forward and then pushed him so he went flying. Blood sprayed on the sheets. It was only then that I realized what I was seeing. Ellie and Javier’s bedroom.

  I almost joined the man on the bed, if only to smell the pillow. I needed to know that she had slept here, that she was alive, just to remember what she smelled like. But I kept it together. Instead I noticed a pile of clothes leading into the bathroom. I went over, confident that Gus was watching Javier’s house sitter and picked it up. Ellie’s jeans. Her tank top. The very ones she was wearing the day she went with him.

  I held them to me, like they were some injured creature.

  “No blood,” Gus said, his gun out and aimed at the man though his eyes were on the clothes. “Just dirty. Weren’t ripped off either by the looks of it.”

  I took a step into the bathroom. The shower was dripping sporadically, the towel damp to the touch. She was here. She showered. Shed her dirty clothes. And then what? What did she wear? Was she alone getting changed or …

  I had to choke back the bile that was flooding my throat. The thought of Javier and Ellie together. Her naked, him touching her. Taking advantage of her.

  The blackness spread quickly. I felt myself floating away.

  I spun around, throwing her clothes in the sink and marching right up to the boy, gun back in his face.

  “Did Javier hurt her?” I seethed, spitting in his face.

  The boy let out a little laugh and I immediately whipped the gun across his face. It cracked, crashing against bone and teeth.

  “Hey, Camden,” Gus said sternly but gently. I pretended I didn’t hear him.

  “I’ll do it to the other side to make things even,” I threatened. “Now tell me if he hurt her. Tell me what happened to her. Tell me where she is.”

  The man spit out blood and peered up at me through a running red eye.

  “I’m not telling you anything. Except that she deserves whatever is coming for her.”

  “Camden,” Gus warned me. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted copper, my lungs squeezing and squeezing, a hot black hand wrapped around them, egging me on, wanting me to let loose and drive that gun back into the guy’s head. I knew he was saying this shit to aggravate me and it fucking worked. He didn’t see how serious I was. He didn’t know how far I would go.

  Even I didn’t know how far.

  But part of me was really curious.

  “Rope,” I grunted through grinding teeth. “Get some rope, Gus.”

  Gus hesitated but went straight to the closet. He opened and let out a low whistle through his teeth.

  “What is it?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the guy. He was still staring back at me, daring me to do something, to shoot him. I didn’t want to shoot him. I wanted answers.

  “Ellie’s clothes,” he said quietly. “They’re all here. That nutter saved them all these years.”

  That wasn’t helping. “Rope, Gus.”

  I heard metal jangling and he came over to me with a belt. “Belts work just fine.”

  “I need three more. We’re tying him to the bed.”

  He sighed and came back with more. “Do you mind telling me what you’re going to do?”

  I shook my head. “I want answers. Then we’ll leave.”

  “Well you better make it fast because unless they have gunfights here every evening, someone’s going to report that. You can probably bet on the cops showing up.”

  “It’ll go fast if he talks. If he doesn’t talk, we’ve got nothing.”

  The man smiled at that. I took the energy I wanted to pummel into his face and put it toward wrapping the belt around one arm and looping it around one of the bedposts. Gus took care of the rest. Because the guy was quite short, we had to improvise around his legs with the addition of Javier’s silk ties. It felt somewhat poetic.

  It didn’t take long before the man was tied spread eagle on the bloody bedspread. He still didn’t look scared, didn’t look like he was in any pain, didn’t look like he was worried.

  “Now, talk,” I told him.

  “You both are so dead,” he said, slurring his words around his fat lip. “What are you going to do, shoot me in the leg? You’ll only attract more attention to yourself. Besides, I’ve had worse.”

  “Oh good,” I said, coming closer. “It’ll be a nice experiment then, to see if I come close.” I wasn’t really sure who was talking, the words that were coming out of my mouth, the strange sense of calm, almost a high, that was replacing the rage. It scared me more than the anger had, than the blackness. This was something else. Sinister.

  “Camden, maybe you should let me handle this,” Gus said taking a step closer.

  I waved him off. “You can have the next go. I think he’ll tell us where she went.”

  I shrugged off the backpack and pulled out my secret weapon, my tattoo machine. It had ink in it too still, bright blue.

  “What the hell is that?” Gus asked, even though we all knew what it was.

  “Tattoo gun,” I explained. “Well, we call it a machine. In this case, gun seems more fitting. Doesn’t fire bullets but it can fire a lot of pain if you apply it in the right place and press down hard enough.” I took the needle and pressed it against the man’s stomach just below his chest, feeling his pulse underneath his skin. “I’ve always wondered if I could tattoo’s someone’s organs. You know someone is going to ask for that someday.”

  Finally I saw the man’s eyes widen ever so slightly. I smiled back. “Really,” I went on. “I’m curious. Care to be my experiment … what did you say your name was?”

  The man’s jaw wiggled back and forth. Debating.

  “That’s your first question. What’s your name?”

  “Camden, we don’t have time for this.”

  I ignored Gus. “This is a liner needle, thick enough. Similar to what did the tattoos around your arms. Except that yours was done properly and I’ve made some adjustments with the length of the needle. I bet I could at least puncture your stomach if I pressed hard enough. Maybe fill it with ink? Wouldn’t that be something? I’d tattoo you from the inside out.”

  “Jesus,” Gus muttered under his breath.

  I plugged in the machine and stepped on the foot petal. “Your name,” I repeated.

  The man hesitated. I didn’t. I plunged the tattoo needle into the middle of his abdomen, just below his rib cage, pressing it as far as it would go. It felt so incredibly wrong to do this, going against everything I’d ever been taught. It went beyond art now. It took me to another level. A bad place.

  The man cried out from the pain and I kept the needle there as deep as it would go. An inch of a vibrating tattoo needle was a pain that no one should ever feel.

  I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered who was on the line.

  “F-Felipe,” he stuttered, “Felipe Alvaraz.”

  “Good, good,” I said, taking the needle out of his chest. A swirl of red blood and bright blue ink came together to form an overflowing pool of purple. “Next question. Is Ellie okay? Is she hurt?”

  He shook his head. “She’s not hurt. She’s f-fine. She’s the one who did this to my head.”

  I smiled to myself. Good girl.

  “And where is Javier taking her? What doe
s he want with her?”

  The man’s lips formed a thin line. I raised the machine, reminding him.

  “Tell me and I won’t do anymore. Where are they going and why?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Wrong answer. Gus, hold the back his head please.”

  Gus didn’t move. I shot him a steely glance. He was frowning at me, the most concerned I’d ever seen him. “Gus, do it now. We don’t have time.”

  He nodded ever so slowly and then leaned across the bed, pressing his big hands down on the man’s forehead. He shook his head back and forth, trying to escape but Gus put his other hand on his chin, pinning him in place.

  “What are you doing, Camden?” he asked.

  “Women are going crazy for permanent eyeliner tattoos these days. Thought I’d jump in on a trend. Get some practice on what not to do.”

  The man’s eyes flew to me in horror. I felt nothing. I didn’t have any nerves left and my hand was as steady as a rock. If this was what it felt like to be Javier, putting that bullet in Uncle Jim’s head, well in some sick fucking way I could understand the pull.

  “Hold him steady. I don’t want to miss.”

  I took the machine, turning it on again, relishing the buzzing and held it just above Felipe’s eye. “It’ll hurt less if you keep your eyes closed.”

  Actually it didn’t matter. But he didn’t have to know that.

  I lowered the needle and the man shut his eyes tightly, struggling under Gus’s sure grip. I pressed it, just a bit, into the scrunched up eyelid. The man cried out. Then I pressed it in further, like puncturing a really dense grape.

  Screams filled the room.

  “Camden, stop,” Gus said.

  “Tell me where they went and why he has her or I’ll remove it with your eyeball still attached.” I pressed it a bit further. Ink filled the hole. If he was lucky, he was getting ink around his cornea, causing permanent color but no major damage. If it was through his retina, he’d be blind for life.

  “Fine!” the man screamed and then started hyperventilating. “Th-they, he, Javier, he took her to Mexico.”