by Bijou Hunter
Clove squeezes my hand. “She sounds gentle. Naggy but sweet.”
“She was.”
“Was your dad always an asshole?”
“Yeah, but not in a mean way. He had an inferiority complex, so he always needed to prove his worth. He wanted a hot wife and an athletic son. I feel sorry for him sometimes. He spent so much time worrying what people thought that he didn’t appreciate what he had. It’s pathetic.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgave him for being pathetic long ago. That said, I have no interest in knowing him now that I’m old enough to have a choice.”
“You’re so well-adjusted.”
With her mask on, I can’t tell if she’s messing with me. Clove shivers against my body, and I consider her words. Am I well-adjusted or have I learned to expect little from people around me? I accepted Cell was a vindictive piece of shit, my father was an insecure loser, and my mom was a weak-willed addict. They all mattered to me at some point, but losing them didn’t destroy me. Not like losing Clove would.
“How well-adjusted can I be when I’m preparing to kill a guy?” I ask.
“Everyone kills someone eventually. It’s no biggie.” Clove giggles at her joke for way too long and I worry she’s cracking from the cold. My woman wasn’t built for the winter.
After laughing, Clove falls silent as the sun begins to set. She’s so still I wonder if she’s napping.
“How soon should we move?” I ask.
“I’m ready to get moving. It’s possible I can get a shot off while he’s in the cabin,” she says, standing with great effort. “Man, the cold got into my knees. I fucking hate winter.”
We strap on our packs and walk with our rifles at the ready. I keep seeing Janx appearing around a tree. In my mind, he looks like he did when the club had three dozen members. I remember a bald man with a tribal tattoo across his throat.
Clove stops shivering once we’re walking again. No doubt her adrenaline warms her as we sneak closer to the cabin. Clove moves slowly, minimizing the crunch of her footsteps in the snow. By the time the sun is gone, we’re crouched by a tree with the cabin in sight.
➸ Clove ☆
The front windows of the cabin aren’t covered by curtains. I guess privacy isn’t a concern for a person living in the middle of the woods. Looking through my rifle’s scope, I search for any sign of Janx.
Nearly ten minutes pass as the darkness settles in around us. I begin to wonder if the asshole is even at the cabin when a light turns on inside the cabin.
“Do you see him?” Glitch whispers, sounding relaxed despite the biting cold brought on by the lack of the sun.
“I see movement. Shadows, but he isn’t near a window.”
“How long do you want to wait before I try flushing him out?”
Exhaling, I hate having Glitch leave my side. Why can’t Janx be a pal and walk up to the window so I can get my shot? Then Glitch and I can huddle up in a tent until morning.
The asshole doesn’t play along, and I only catch a quick glimpse of his shoulder when he moves across the main room of the small cabin.
“I’d need to get up higher to find a shot,” I admit. “You’ll need to flush him out of the cabin.” Glitch starts to stand when I’m struck by panic. “Wait. What if starting a fire at the back of the cabin, makes him put it out rather than flushing him out the front door?”
“Then I’ll shoot him.”
Gripping his arm, I crave the warmth of his skin, but we’re too bundled up. He caresses my hat-covered head with his gloved hand.
“Let’s finish him so we can set up the tent and get out of the cold.”
His calm tone erases my fears. Before he leaves to circle around back, I lower my mask, and he does the same with his. We share a warm kiss that makes me think of love and home. I smile as we separate, believing in my gut that he’ll return to my side.
➸ Glitch ★
Leaving Clove in the darkness is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Once I walk away, though, I’m a man on a mission. I move quickly through the woods circling the cabin. Every step sounds too loud, and I feel as if someone is watching me. My paranoia is ridiculous. Janx couldn’t see me in the woods even if he were looking directly out his window in my direction.
Holding the advantage of standing in the dark looking in, I observe him moving around once I reach the back of the cabin. I settle into the snow and aim my rifle, hoping to get a shot. The land is higher on the backside of the cabin, but I only catch too-fast glimpses of him. Then he disappears, and I assume he’s sat down.
I dig through my pack for the plastic containers full of accelerant. Leaving behind the rest of my gear, I make a run for the back door. The entire time I imagine Janx taking a shot. He doesn’t, of course. The man has no idea his life is about to end. My brain warns I might be in the same position.
Removing my gloves, I crouch by the back door and douse the area with an accelerant. I don’t know exactly what concoction Ginger created for me to start the fire, but it doesn’t smell like gasoline. Possibly, that’s the point. Janx won’t think he’s under attack if he checks on the fire at the back door.
I don’t know what the accelerant is made of, but it lights almost too quickly, and I fall back to avoid the flames. Twisting onto my knees, I stand and run into the woods before Janx sees me or I end up toasted by the rising blaze.
I reach for my rifle and prepare to take a shot if the asshole sticks his head out the back door now engulfed in flames.
Janx doesn’t appear, though, and a few minutes later, I hear a shot at the front. Shoving my supplies into my pack, I rush back the way I came. I hold my breath, desperate to see Clove safe and sound.
➸ Clove ☆
From the moment Glitch leaves to Janx’s appearance feels like an eternity. I stare through the scope, waiting for any sign of the man I’m here to kill. The waiting stirs up worries inside me. What if Janx isn’t the bad guy? Am I the bad guy? Why did I agree to do this? Can I possibly be a good mother one day when I’ve spent my life doing evil shit like this?
Panic grips me until a single image flashes through my mind.
Duffy Jones.
Cayenne’s been in my bloody position before, yet she loves her daughter with all her heart.
For the next few minutes, I think of Cayenne and Duffy. I’ve watched the little girl grow up, and I know she has an amazing mom. Evil deeds don’t always make an evil person. After all, Glitch is out here with me, and I know he isn’t evil. He’s as decent a man as I’ve ever known. And he loves me, flaws and all.
Relaxed now, I stare through the scope and wait for my shot that finally comes when Janx stumbles out the front door wearing only long johns, a flannel top, and slippers. He carries a gun in his hand, but he looks more scared than on the warpath. For a second, I let myself pity him.
Then I pull the trigger, taking off the left side of his face while he stands on his porch.
Exhaling roughly, I can’t believe it was so easy. My heart beats faster, and I wait for the other shoe to drop.
I scan the area through my scope, waiting for trouble. Janx’s body doesn’t move. Smoke billows from the back of the cabin and I catch sight of fire moving through the main room.
I’m still scouting the area with the rifle when I hear approaching footsteps and turn the weapon toward Glitch. Smiling might not be appropriate in our current situation, but I’m so fucking relieved to know he’s safe.
Dropping to his knees next to me, Glitch reaches for my face.
“You’re okay?”
“I’m okay. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Though I nearly burned off my balls.”
“Balls or not, I love you.”
Glitch lowers his mask to reveal a smiling face, and I do the same so our lips can meet. The kiss is interrupted by a small explosion in the cabin. Startled, I point my rifle at the sound.
“Seems Oz was right about Janx having weapons and explosives in his place.”
Another small explosion rips through the quiet night. Flinching, we watch the fire fully engulf the cabin including the porch.
“Let’s go,” Glitch says and picks up my pack.
“Do you think the fire will spread?”
“Doubtful, but just in case, we ought to put a little distance between us and the cabin.”
I slide on the pack, hating the weight pulling me down again. We move through the woods, able to see between the moon peering through the clouds and the blaze.
We walk for nearly five minutes, losing our light as clouds grow heavier. I manage to keep up with Glitch until my boot slides on a rock, causing me to stumble to my right. Before I can regain my balance, I’m stunned by searing pain.
I think I scream, but Glitch doesn’t slow. On my ass now, I reach for my leg.
“Glitch,” I whisper as loud as possible.
His crunching footsteps stop and a moment of silence passes while he searches for me. I spot his flashlight and then hear his footsteps rushing toward me.
“I stepped in something,” I whimper. “I dropped my flashlight. Do you see it? I don’t know what my leg is stuck in.”
My panicked voice makes me sound ready to cry, but I’m more pissed than scared. I can’t lift my leg, and my gloved hands can’t figure out what’s holding me still.
“Deep breath,” Glitch says, sounding absolutely calm. “Let me see.”
I pull off my gloves and take his flashlight. His now bare hands study the metal wrapped around my ankle.
“It’s a bear trap,” he whispers. “I don’t think it broke through your boot.”
“It hurts so fucking much,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Can you get it off?”
“Yep, just hold on.”
Glitch wrenches open the trap, and I lift my leg free. The pain changes immediately. Rather than sharp pain, now I deal with throbbing pain.
“Can you help me stand?”
The throbbing pain returns to a sharp screaming agony that lands me back on my ass.
“Fuck,” I growl. “What now?”
Glitch stands up, and I hear the metal trap jangling followed by a loud crunch in the distance.
“We’ll set up camp here and figure everything out in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, immediately defeated to be so useless.
“I can’t see you in the dark. I hope you’re smiling to know your man will handle shit.”
“I am smiling,” I lie. “My man is the fucking best.”
Holding the flashlight where he directs, I watch him put together the small tent and unroll the sleeping bags. I again try to stand, but my ankle can’t hold any weight. I put my gloves back on before my fingers freeze. Crawling into the tent, I remove my boots so I can squirm into the sleeping bag. Glitch takes the flashlight and searches for my missing one.
“Found it.”
“I’m sorry,” I instinctively say. “I can’t believe I stepped in that shit.”
Glitch climbs into the tent and hands me the second flashlight. He zips the fabric, cutting down the cold wind.
“Could have been me. No way to see it in the snow.”
“My ankle and foot feel numb.”
“Either broken or sprained. We’ll find out tomorrow,” he says, keeping his tone light. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
I sip the water, afraid to drink too much and need to pee soon. The wind picks up, ripping at the tent.
“This is the pits,” I mumble while Glitch attempts to get his large frame comfortable in the small tent. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your father.”
Frowning in the darkness, I ask, “Why?”
“Bad memories will distract from your current crap situation.”
“Is that really your plan?”
“Yes, Clove. I have it all planned out.”
I laugh at his tone and hear him chuckle in response. “You don’t have to, but you’ve never told me, and I shared about my mom earlier.”
“It’s not a competition,” I tease.
“I know, but my balls are frozen, and I’m worried as fuck about your leg. I need a distraction. Oh, and I’m worried the beef jerky from earlier will give me the runs.”
Laughing again, I reach for him in the darkness. “I’ll tell you about my father if we can keep a small light on. The dark is freaking me out.”
Glitch switches on a flashlight. “I assume your father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“When did he die?”
“When I was fourteen.”
Glitch adjusts his position, causing pain in my otherwise numb leg. I keep my mouth shut so he won’t feel guilty for wanting to find comfort on the hard ground.
“How did he die?” he asks after a minute of trying to find the right position.
“It’s complicated.”
“With no sex or TV, feel free to take your time explaining.”
Exhaling deeply, I rest my hand on his chest. “I don’t know how to explain his death except to explain the reason he died. My parents met when she was nineteen. He quickly married her and brought her to the US for what she assumed was a better life. She obviously thought he was a good man, so I assumed he must have shown her a side of him besides the raging asshole I knew.”
“Raging about what?”
“Everything pissed him off. Work. Neighbors. Where we lived. He once took a belt to us because planes were flying too low and he couldn’t hear the TV. Life disappointed him, so he disappointed my mother. Their disappointment killed them both, I guess.”
“How exactly did he die?”
I search for the right words, but only honesty makes sense. “My pimp killed him.”
“Why?”
“My father got hooked on heroin and needed cash, so he pimped out my mom. When she died, he got clean, stopped raging, and started dating women. For a while, he seemed happy. He ignored me for the most part, so I was happy too. I missed my mom, but I didn’t miss the beatings. Mostly, I didn’t miss the fear. He hated her so much, and she pissed him off all the time. Sometimes, I think she did it on purpose because she hated him. They fed off each other’s misery.”
Shivering, I remember the way my mother glared at my father while he beat her. I often expected to wake up to find she’d killed him while he slept.
“Once she was gone,” I continue after the wind quiets down, “I got a break from his bad moods. The women he brought around were usually nice, and I spent a lot of time at my friends’ houses. Then one of those women cheated on him. He probably cheated on her too, but I remember the night everything changed. The father I grew up with was back, and he had no one to beat on except me. Those women wouldn’t put up with that shit, so he demanded I stay at the house all the time. He needed someone to yell at. Soon, he was drinking and then I found him high on heroin again. I knew he’d need money, and I understood I would have to get it for him.”
I change positions in the dark tent but make sure my hand remains nuzzled in Glitch’s jacket so I can find his heartbeat.
“I tried running away. One of those times, I hooked up with an older guy who let me stay at his place. That’s how I lost my virginity. I didn’t want to fuck the guy, but I wanted him to take care of me and had nothing of value except my body. When my father showed up looking for me, the guy walked away as if I was nothing to him.”
“That’s when your dad pimped you out?” Glitch asks, and I hear the tension in his voice.
Patting his chest, I sigh. “Yeah, and I actually liked it for a while. I know that sounds crazy, but I was out of the house, and I got to keep some of the money. Sure, I wasn’t supposed to, but if I made a hundred and twenty, I’d tell him it was a hundred. Hooking gave me power, and I had value to my dad. He didn’t hit me as much. It wasn’t a happy life, but things were better. For a while anyway.”
“So how did the pimp get involved?”
I think
back to the night I met Pharrell. Had he seen the rage in my eyes like I’d seen in my mother’s?
“Pharrell pimped other girls who hung around the streets I worked. He was really nice to me and asked about my bruises. Pharrell wanted to know if customers did it. He seemed so concerned. I knew it was a con. Everyone lied to me back then. Teachers even told me I did a good job on schoolwork because they felt sorry for me when I showed up tired and looking like shit. Even if I knew Pharrell was lying about being a nice guy, I didn’t care.”
“Did you want him to kill your dad?”
“Yes,” I say immediately before asking, “Does that make me a monster?”
“No,” he answers without missing a beat.
“I didn’t want to give up like my mom. She was all alone in a country she didn’t understand. Her English wasn’t strong, and she had no real skills. She was trapped, so she gave up. But I knew I could make it on my own if I could survive until I was eighteen. With my dad, though, I wasn’t sure I’d last that long.”
Pausing, I think back to how terrified I was of my father. “Some nights, I caught him standing in my bedroom’s doorway while I slept. At first, I worried he’d rape me. Then I realized his hands were in fists. I’d lie in the dark, pretending to sleep and watch him through mostly closed eyes. I’d see his fists open and close, clenching over and over.”
My breath catches. I remember how prepared I was those nights for him to enter my room. The mix of panic and preparation kept my body painfully tight until he finally walked away.
“I knew he would kill me. Even having value, I disappointed him. One day, he would snap, and I didn’t know if I’d survive his wrath.”
I surprise us both by laughing. “I got the idea to kill my dad from George W. Bush. Isn’t that funny? In school, I learned about Iraq and the Bush Doctrine of a preemptive strike. I wasn’t a good student, but I got the basic point. I needed to preemptively kill my father before he killed me.”
“Did you ask the pimp to kill him or just let him know he should?” Glitch asks, and I feel his lips against my forehead.