by A. R. Breck
“Please.” She looks at me with a pouty lip that I would be stupid to refuse, except her safety is way more important than pleasing her at this point.
“No.” I narrow my eyes at her.
“You’re a jackass sometimes. You know that?”
“That shit was established when I was fucking five years old. You might think I’m trying to be a terrible guy, but I’m doing this for you. Plus, you never know, you might actually enjoy getting out there in the open and popping off a few clips.”
“Maybe. Or, maybe I’ll shoot you in the ass for dragging me out of my bed.” She lies in her bed, smiling at me, and it takes all my effort from going over there and slapping her ass for being a smartass.
“You’re going to be the end of me. Get ready, get your shit together, and be ready in two hours.
I'm going to go home and take a shower, grab Jackson, and we’ll be back soon.” I walk over to her a plant a surprise kiss on her lips. Thankfully, she doesn’t freeze up or back away from me.
Progress.
“See you in a bit, baby.”
“See you.” She says, running her fingertips across her lips.
Yup, we’ll be just fine.
~
“Sup,” Jackson asks as he hops in the truck.
“Shit. I just got a text from Rich, of course. Wants us to meet him tonight.” I shove my phone into my pocket, angry at him for already taking a shit on my day.
“Is it about Sanders?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hugo has been keeping me up to date on that. Leaving on Friday, and everything has been going as planned so far. I think it’s about Frank.”
“Fuck. Do you think he knows you killed Corey?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” The thought of Corey’s body being found puts a heavy ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. It’s not something I need to be dealing with now. I’ve already got Sanders and Rose as my top priorities. Frank Aronole and his rapist son don’t deserve my time. But at the end of the day, I know they’ll make sure they get it.
I absolutely cannot go to prison.
“Well, we’ve got your back, brother. You know that.” Jackson says with a grave face.
“Yeah, I know.” I don’t want to go to prison, but if I do, I will go without a fight. I did it for a good reason, and I will do it countless times to save Rose. Countless.
“How is Rose doin’?” He asks on our way to pick up said thorn in my ass.
“Better, kind of. I’m not sure if she’s burying shit deep or if she's really starting to feel better. I guess we’ll see.” I shrug. My insides shred every time the scene from Saturday night comes back to me. I guess in a way. I’m trying to bury shit, too.
Pulling up in front of Rose’s house, I shift into park and glance at Jackson. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk up to Rose’s door and as I’m about to knock, the door swings open.
“I can’t go.” Rose’s face is pale, and her hands have a slight tremor to it, immediately putting me on high alert.
“Why? What happened?” I walk in and glance around, looking for an intruder or her mother. The place looks the same as I left it, though.
“Last time I went out, I almost passed out. Every single time I go out, something happens. This place has turned me into a scared, accident-prone freak. I don’t want to leave. I’d rather stay here in the Shack and live out the rest of my life in solitude.”
“You don’t mean that. Quit letting that shit get to you, Rose. That’s what Corey wanted, that’s what those sluts wanted, and that’s what that pervert from the alley wanted. You can’t let them get to you, Rose. Rise above that shit and live.” The emotion clogs my throat. Shit, I really am turning into a pussy.
“I can’t deal with anything else happening. I’m barely hanging on as it is,” she trails off as tears gather in her eyes, two pools of agony staring at me. I so badly want to take away her pain, but this is something she needs to heal from herself.
“You won’t leave my sight, Rose. I promise. You will have Jackson and me with you the entire time.”
“Okay.” She takes a breath and grabs her things, walking around me and out the door. I follow behind her, flipping the lock from the inside and shutting the door.
By the time I get back to my truck, Rose is already sitting in the back seat. I look at Jackson and scowl. Why the fuck is my girl sitting in the backseat, and this jackass gets the front?
He shrugs at me.
“Quit looking at him like that. I told him to stay up front.” Rose rasps from the back.
“The fuck are you doing back there?” I scowl at her.
“Stop growling. Jackson was getting out to hop in back, but I told him to stay there. I want to sit back here. I need some space.”
“From me?” I nearly shout.
“From everyone! Would you get your ass in the car and drive? Or I can go back inside, which is what I want to do, by the way.".”
“Seriously, bro. Let’s just go.”
I give Jackson a look that would make a lesser man cry, but Jackson just looks at me with his dead stare.
“Fucking crazy, impossible people,” I mumble under my breath. These people are going to make me bald or in prison from going on a murder spree. One or the other. Possibly both.
“How are you?” Jackson directs to Rose.
“I’m here.” She says while watching the trees pass by.
“Yeah.” Jackson knows all too well what a rough life is. Shit, we all do. But Jackson more than anyone, knows what it’s like to barely survive.
Silence descends in the car and as I look in the backseat, I see that Rose has already fallen asleep.
She went from not sleeping for days to sleeping all the time. I hope this is just part of the healing process. I’m not good at consoling, and I’m not good at feelings.
I want to be here for Rose to help her through this process. I’m just not sure how.
~
“This place is huge.” Rose looks around wide-eyed, clutching her purse to her chest as I show her around the facilities.
“Yeah. Our dads built this place in the nineties. They kept fixing it up throughout the years, and now it’s basically an indestructible fortress.” The number of guns we have stored around here is enough to take down the White House.
We walk over to the far end of the building, and I get Rose set up with glasses and headphones to protect her ears. Jackson walks into the other side of the room and sets up pictures of bodies that we can practice on.
“Maybe you should go first,” Rose says, grimacing at me as she looks down at the gun in front of her. She's going to have to get used to that real quick if she intends to be in my life. I’m not a desk job man. I get blood on my hands, and they are always dirty. I’ll also always have protection on me, so looking at it as if it isn’t a fucking spider would be in her best interest.
“This day is about you.” I lift the gun and show her to the different parts of it. “Here is the safety. Always have it on. Always. The only time it should be off is if you’re certain you’re going to shoot the motherfucker on the other side. This here releases the clip,” I press the release and show her the magazine of full bullets, “Slide it back in until it clicks. When you’re ready to shoot, release the safety and cock the barrel back. That sends a bullet into the chamber. When you want to shoot, aim, and pull the trigger here.” I hand her the gun and watch her look at it apprehensively.
“Easton—” I’m about to open my mouth to tell her to shut up and shoot when Jackson interrupts me.
“Rose, like this.” He’s at the next station and doesn’t have any gear on. We never do, we’re used to the sound of bullets without any protection on.
Jackson cocks the barrel back and aims at the black figure on the other side of the room. Pressing on the trigger, he releases bullet after bullet and makes headshot after headshot. Rose looks at him in awe. The guy is a good shooter. He prefers a knife, but he handles a gun with ease.
“Try it. It’s fun. Just be careful with the kickback. It’s strong for a first-timer.” He smiles at her and steps back.
Rose steps forward and aims at the paper person, releasing the trigger and almost falling on her ass. She completely misses her target.
“Shit.” I reach forward and grab her, which is a mistake with a gun in her hand. She freezes, and her finger presses on the trigger.
“Fuck!” I shout. “Jesus fucking hell, Rose.” Thankfully, the bullet went off to the other side of the room. “You could have fucking shot me.” She doesn't say anything, so I glance at her face. Once again, she’s white as a sheet.
“Shit, I’m sorry, babe. I forgot. I was just trying to help.”
She stands up stiffly out of my hold and tries to hand me the gun.
“No, try again.” I push the gun back towards her. As much as I want to cringe and think about her shooting me in the foot, she needs to learn.
“Rose, try aiming at the picture and imagining its Corey. That’s what I did.” He nods his head at her.
That seems to push some motivation into her. She pulls the gun back towards her and aims it at the paper. After what feels like a century, she releases not one, not two, but the entire magazine. Some miss, but a few hit the body.
I’m impressed.
When she looks at me, she has a huge smile on her face and tears drip down her face in a steady stream.
“I did it.” She breathes.
Chapter Eight
No wonder why people murder. Pulling that trigger is cathartic.
Rose
With each bullet that releases from the chamber, my pain lessens. It’s still there, no doubt about that, but I can’t deny the high that I get when I feel the kickback of the gun. I pretend that everyone who has done me wrong in the world is that stupid, black paper figure and a smile pulls at my lips with every single bullet as I imagine them dying at the death of my hands. For once, it should be me causing them pain, not the other way around.
My father.
Bang.
Those sluts.
Bang.
That homeless pervert.
Bang.
Corey.
Corey.
Corey.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
It makes sense to me now. Why so many people end up being serial killers. Why people end up going to prison for going on a murder spree. I understand now.
The release.
I want more, and as I look down at the gun, I wish there were unlimited bullets in here like a vampire wishes for a fountain of human blood.
I want more.
“You did great.” Easton glances at the paper figure with bullets and studies the holes throughout the entire paper.
“Can I go again?” My insides shake with anticipation, although the outside of me is still as stone.
“Yeah, that’s what we’re here for. I'm going to show you a few moves, too, but you can practice a few more times.” Easton says before showing me how to reload the gun.
I shoot for a little while longer, and each time the hunger grows stronger and stronger.
“All right, that’s enough. Time to show you a little self-defense.” Easton grabs the gun from me and sets it aside. I look around and notice that Jackson is missing.
“Where did Jackson go?” I ask. Shit, I must have zoned out.
“He went to go make a call. Come on, let’s do this.” He ushers me on to a separate room, one with workout equipment and I imagine this is a lot like what his training gym looks like.
“So, I know that you’re having a hard time, and the last thing you want is to be touched right now. But this exercise,” he pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek while he stares at me, “it requires touching.” He presses his lips together tightly as he tries to read my reaction.
The word touching was enough for me. “All right then, time for me to go.” I pivot and start walking out of the gym, but his large form quickly rushes in front of me.
“Stop, Rose. You aren’t going anywhere. You will never move past this unless you push your boundaries. I know it hasn’t been a long time, but you never know what’s going to happen from one second to the next. The last thing any of us need is for something to happen to you, and your sole reaction is to freeze up. You will be dead fucking meat at that point.” He stresses, swinging his hands around.
“Fine. The moment I say stop, you stop.” I point my finger in his face. There’s a good chance I’ll pass out the moment his body grabs me, but I still need him to know I’m not doing anything against my will.
Never. Again.
“Say stop, and I’m done.” He turns around and walks towards a shelf on the side of the room, picking up two sets of fighting mitts. “First, you need to learn how to swing.” He tosses a pair of gloves at me.
“I know how to throw a fucking punch, Easton.” I sneer.
“Prove it then.” He slips his gloves on and gives me a cocky smirk, but all I want to do is sock that smile right off his damn face.
I scowl at him and pull on my gloves in jerky movements. Fine, he wants to get punched? Why the hell not?
I swing at his cheek, but he instantly blocks it. I try my other fist, but he blocks that one, too.
“Is that it? That was like swatting away a fly.” He pokes at me, a light in his eyes that’s half joking, half mocking.
And that pisses me off.
I can feel my face get hot, and I bare my teeth at him. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t fight me with your words; fight me with your fists. You can call me any name in the book, but that's not going to stop an attacker or bring them to their knees. Bring me to my fucking knees, Rose.”
I punch him, and punch him, and punch him. Each block he makes gets me angrier and angrier. I end up trying to slap him, anything really.
“Take me down, Rose!” He shouts at me.
I go to knee him in the balls, and this time he smiles at me when he blocks me. “Perfect. Go for the junk.” He swings me around, so his front is up against my back, and his arms are wrapped around me.
I freeze up instantly. I can’t breathe. But it’s not from his tight grip, it’s his close proximity that freezes up my lungs and closes up my windpipe. I feel trapped. The ringing in my ears make Easton’s voice sound miles away. “Don’t freeze up, Rose. Fight me on this. How can you break me out of this hold?”
I can’t think about his words because the only thing going through my brain is how to escape out of this hold. I push my arms out, but his grip is too strong. I do the only thing I can do. The whooshing in my ears gets me dizzy. I feel lightheaded.
I scream.
I scream bloody murder.
My throat feels like it's going to tear in two with how hard I’m screaming, but it doesn’t help me break out of his hold.
“Fucking fight me, Rose!” Easton roars. It feels like the walls shake with his demand.
I freeze and feel around for any loose body part that I can move. My elbows.
“I see you thinking. How can you break from my hold? Your elbows? Where can you hit me with it? What part of me is most vulnerable to an attack? What part of me will hurt the most?”
My arms are up near his neck. I do the only thing I can do and ram my elbow into his jugular.
It does the trick. Easton’s arms loosen, and I’m able to break free from his hold. Not for long, though, because he grabs onto my ankles.
“Go for the junk.” He barks at me, voice garbled from the hit.
I whip around so quick and attempt to kick him in the junk, but he blocks it just as I make contact.
“That was perfect. Your attacker will be so focused on grabbing you they won’t realize you’re about to kick them in the balls. Their initial assumption is that you're going to go for the nuts first, so you have to get them unexpected on it, or else it won’t work.” He stands up and hovers over me, watching me lying on the ground.
Tears stream down my face, and my breaths l
eave me in huge gasps. “Why didn’t you stop?” I cry. The pain of his fingers clutching me, and his arms wrapped around me was enough to make my body burst into flames.
It hurt so bad. But I also felt... something else.
Something good.
“Because Rose, you never said stop.”
We stare at each other, and our connection that has always been so strong begins to simmer just below the surface. My attraction to him will never go away. I’m surprised that attraction is even on my brain right now, but where Easton is concerned, I don’t think that fire will ever go out.
“Easton.” Jackson stands in the doorway with his phone down at his side and a stiff look on his face.
Both Jackson and Easton exchange some silent conversation until Easton looks at me. “That’s it for today. You did good.” He reaches his hand down for me to take, but I’m not ready for that. Not yet, at least.
I roll over and stand up, wiping my palms on my legs. “Are we leaving already?” I ask, still winded.
“Already? Rose, we have been here most of the day.”
I grab my phone out of my pocket and look at the time. Shit, it’s already after five. What happened to the day?
Easton has an urgent look on his face while I follow both of them back out to the truck. Once we get there, I can’t keep in my curiosity anymore. “What’s the deal? What aren’t you guys telling me?”
“Nothing, I just have to go meet my father.” His tone is monotone and emotionless, much like when I first met him.
I don’t like it.
“Does he know that you know that he killed my father? Does he know that I know?” A bitter taste fills my mouth that I don’t like. Hate. I hate Rich Malone. I hate him so much.
“Yes, Rose. He knows.” He says on a sigh, sounding annoyed. What just happened? What changed from ten minutes ago to now? How can he go from helping me turn my switch back on, to him turning his off?
I don't say anything the remainder of the car ride, opting to fold my arms across my chest and stare out the window. It seems that the two asshats up front are okay with my silence since no one says a word until we pull up to my house.
I hop out and only glance over my shoulder before shutting the door. “Thanks.” I did have a good time today, and they didn’t have to bring me along. They at least deserve thanks for that, even if they deserve a slap in the face for doing the silent treatment for the last forty-five minutes.