Absolution

by S. Kirkpatrick

The minutes tick by as more cops and crime scene people arrive, showing zero respect to Liz’s home in the wake of her tragedy. The lack of decorum is downright appalling and I wish I could knock a few of them the fuck out and remind them to treat her home with some goddamn civility.

  One by one, they come in and out of the house, shouting to each other, taking photos, and writing down in their tiny little notepads. They all look at me, accusations in their eyes. Half of them are curious, the other half have already convinced themselves that I’m guilty.

  Where the fuck is Shane?

  “Sir, would you mind doing a GSR test while we wait for your attorney?”

  “A what?” I ask, shaking my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “It’s a test where we swab you for gunshot residue. The victim was shot so it would go a long way in proving your innocence. If you don’t have any GSR on you, then we would know you aren’t the one who pulled the trigger.”

  “What part of ‘lawyered up’ don’t you assholes understand?” Shane’s voice booms from the front door.

  “We weren’t questioning him.” One of them responds, hands help up in defense.

  Fucking amateurs.

  “Step away from my client and give us some privacy for a moment. And while you’re at it, write down your name and badge numbers, your supervisor will be hearing from me.”

  The officers shake their heads and make their way outside, giving me a few moments with Shane. They look like they’re on the verge of pissing their pants. First the FBI and now the scariest attorney in all of North Carolina. These guys were not fucking equipped to handle this shit show, I’ll tell you that right now.

  “What the fuck happened?” Shane hisses through a clenched jaw, turning our bodies so that we have a semblance of privacy.

  Shane already knows the full story of everything that’s happened up until this point. Abel filled him in on everything when he came down to the shop to help us all get shit in order in case we didn’t make it out of this bloodbath. He also knew that Remi was planning on taking them head-on when they came for her. As much as he disliked the idea, he also knew there was nothing he could say or do to stop any of us, and that we’d be calling him if shit went south.

  “Liz called Rem’s phone this morning. All I heard was gurgling on the other end. Remi freaked and we came right over. They took Henry.”

  “Fuck.” He bites out, keeping his voice low. “And where is Remi?”

  “Where do you think? After I called 9-1-1 she took off to go find him.”

  “Have you tried calling her, do you know where she is?”

  “No, she snapped her phone after the call before we came here. I told the cops that Liz is Remi’s FBI handler, but that’s all I said before I called you.”

  “You okay with a GSR test?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got nothing to hide. But I need to get the fuck out of here and go find Remi.”

  Shane nods, pinching his lips with his fingers, mulling over shit inside his head.

  “There’s something else you need to know.”

  He looks at me with bulging eyes, clearly asking what the hell else we could possibly pile on to this gourmet shit sandwich.

  “I’m pretty sure Liz was raped.” I whisper.

  “Fuck!” He hisses under his breath as he begins pacing right in front of me. “They might want your DNA to compare it. Are you okay with that?”

  “Do I really have a choice at this point? I will literally do whatever I need to do right now in order to get the fuck out of here. My girl needs me, Shane. I can’t stand here fucking around all day.”

  “Okay, okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to have to give a statement and do a GSR test. If they haven’t asked you about your DNA yet, then offering it first will go a very long way. I’ll pull some strings and make sure you can leave based on your cooperation. You’ll have to come down to the station when the FBI gets here though.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And we need to have someone bring you a change of clothes. Yours are evidence now.”

  I nod, pulling my phone out text Ryan.

  B: I need you to bring me a change of clothes and shoes to Liz’s house. The cops want mine for evidence.

  R: I’ll bring Jake. We’re geared up.

  B: Shane is with me. Place is swarming with cops. Don’t be strapped when you get out of the car.

  R: I got you, fool. See you soon, brother.

  “Just give me a heads up so I can start prepping shit on my end. Are you planning on dropping bodies?”

  “I will if I have to. Remi will drop anyone that stands in her way. She’ll drop her uncle the minute she gets a clear line of sight. That bastard isn’t leaving the city unless it’s in a body bag.”

  “Goddamnit, I’m retiring after this shit.” He says, placing a hand on his hip.

  “I have no idea how many people are here for her.” I whisper, looking around and making sure no one is listening in.

  “Too goddamn many.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It could be one person and it would still be too many. That girl deserves to be done with this shit, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

  “Shane, I will go to prison if I have to. But you have to protect her, do you hear me? She can’t go down for any of this. Pin it all on me if you have to but you keep her out of this.”

  “She’s got a self-defense claim a mile long, Brody. You on the other hand…”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll do what I can. You know that.”

  A commotion outside pulls my attention, and I see Ryan getting in the face of some cop that’s refusing to let him inside the house. He’s so riled up, refusing to accept that this is an active crime scene. If he doesn’t slow his roll right now, he’ll end up in jail before I even get a chance to change my clothes.

  “You better go take care of that.” I say to Shane, nodding my head in the direction of one of my best friends that seems hell-bent and determined to end up in cuffs.

  I can practically see the migraine crawling up Shane’s neck as he shakes his head and makes his way to the front door, barking something at Ryan that I can’t quite make out. Whatever it is, it does the trick. Not only does it calm Ryan down, but it settles the officers and ensures that none of my friends will end up in jail.

  For the moment that is.

  Thirty minutes later after changing my clothes, giving a written statement, and getting swabbed for gunshot residue and DNA, I’m hopping on my bike, headed to find Remi and Henry.

  I’ve been given the customary ‘don’t leave town lecture’ while Shane got all of the info about the cops who questioned me. They were more worthless than the rookie cops that assisted with Max and Bree’s disappearances. They didn’t even search the saddlebags on my bike that was parked right outside. If they seriously thought for even a moment that I was the one who hurt Liz, they should have checked that shit right away. Granted, it worked out in my favor, because there’s a small arsenal in there, but still. Deacon Hill needs some new fucking cops. Or as Shane said, we should stop needing them all the damn time.

  He’s not wrong.

  But we don’t choose the hands that life deals us.

  “Do you have any idea where she could be?” Ryan asks, hanging out the side of his window as I use the heel of my boot to kick up the kickstand of my bike.

  “I have an idea.” I tell him, remembering the photo Liz was clutching in her hands.

  I have to believe that photo was a message to Remi. Whether it was a message from Liz or Uncle Psycho, I can’t deny how fiercely I believe in my bones that it was meant for her to see and know what to do with it. There were several other pictures of the three of them together covering Liz’s desk. There’s a reason that is the one she was clutching. A reason that is the one they chose to put a bullet through.

  I pull off the curb, the boys following close behind, determine
d to save my girl. Save her heart. Save her fucking soul.

  Shane promised he’d text me if there were any updates about Liz and her condition. Before I left, he made a call and told me she was in surgery but that was all anyone could tell him.

  If Remi loses Liz… Fuck, I can’t even let myself think like that. I can’t put that shit in the universe. I have to find a way to stay positive. For all of our sakes. Me, getting myself worked up about something that hasn’t happened yet, isn’t going to help anyone.

  Remembering the way Remi’s voice cracked, the way her body shook while she cradled Liz in her arms, and then the determination that took over moments later when she stormed out… She’s a goddamn fighter.

  Now all I have to do is find her.

  Ryan and Jake are hot on my tail as I fly through a red light, not giving a single fuck about the rules of the road. The only thing I care about is finding my girl and helping her end this shit once and for all.

  Let me find you, Remi.

  Mine to love, mine to protect.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Remi

  I turn the corner, not allowing myself to focus on Henry. There’s not much in the world that could break me, but seeing that man hurt is definitely one of them. Especially after what happened to Liz.

  How much did he have to see? Did they make him watch?

  The thought turns my stomach as I sneak up behind one of the hired goons and put a bullet through his temple before he even knew I was there.

  One down, ten to go.

  At the sound of the gunshot, everyone turns around, their guns are drawn in my direction. Two shots get fired off before I even get a chance to blink, sailing right for me. One misses by a long shot, and the fucked up part of who I am smiles a little, knowing that I can take that bastard out long before he’ll get to me. The second bullet, however, has me dropping my smile and hissing through my teeth as it grazes my left bicep, taking a sliver of my skin with it.

  Fucker.

  My disgusting coward of an uncle makes sure he stands slightly behind one of his men, keeping me from getting a clear shot to take him out right here and now. He’s come all this way, played his chessboard to what he thinks has been in his favor. There’s no way he’ll allow himself to go down so easily.

  So I take an opportunity to do the next best thing. I shoot the man who’s guarding him, right in the forehead. Right between the eyes.

  Thank goodness Brody taught me how to shoot all those years ago.

  As he crumbles to the ground, the men closest to me lunge, fighting a battle they’ve been convinced they’ll win. They’ve all been told stories of the hunts my uncle has previously had on me. They’ve all heard tales of the torture I’ve endured at the hands of all the other men that came before them. It’s a game they’re all excited to play.

  But they haven’t been told one very important part of this story.

  I always fucking win.

  Whether it’s escaping the basement, running before they catch me, or fleeing before they get a chance to drag me to hell with them… I always fucking win.

  Today will be no different.

  I pull my trusted knife out of my boot and sink the blade into the shoulder of the guy whose hand clenches around my bleeding bicep. I wince around the pain, shoving my knee into his nose as he drops to the ground with a satisfying thunk.

  I pull the blood-soaked metal out of his skin while kicking him in the chest, sending him sailing a few feet away. The moment my foot hits the ground, I throw my arm to the side, stabbing the second man’s chest, raising my gun, and shooting him point-blank before he even has a chance to touch me.

  Four down, seven to go.

  During the scuffle with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, my uncle got another goon to use as a shield, knowing he could never take me if it was just us. He’s too big of a coward. That’s why he always had to prey on a child.

  He couldn’t control someone who could fight back.

  It’s almost comforting seeing that he hasn’t changed after all these years. Change in behavior leads to surprises and considering whose blood I’m currently covered in, I can’t afford another surprise.

  “Hello, Atom.” My uncle greets me, a sickening laugh falling from his lips.

  Atom.

  I almost forgot about the disgusting nickname that he gave me when I was still stuck in the house from fucking hell.

  Every time he got paid, after he let a monster into the basement with me, he said I was the perfect little ATM machine. All a man had to do was stick whatever he wanted inside of me, and then money would appear in my uncle’s hand like magic.

  By the time I was eight years old, after two years of being strapped down more times than I could ever count, he stopped calling me by my real name and just started calling me Atom, reminding me that all I was good for was the money he received from selling my innocence to the highest bidder of the day.

  Most days there were multiples.

  In a sick way, multiples was a salvation. It meant the pain would be so intense that I would eventually pass out from it. Those were the only times I got an escape. I longed for the darkness that came on those days. It was the only solace I could touch back then.

  A shiver rakes its way through me when the name assaults my ears. I hate the smile that spills across my uncle’s face when he sees it. I hate that even after all this time, he still has a way to get under my skin. That he still has some type of pull over me.

  Even worse, now he knows it too.

  “You’ve been a busy bee.”

  “Fuck you!” I spit, raising my gun to the goon that takes a step toward me on the right. I cock an eyebrow, daring him to come any closer.

  “Oh, you’ve gotten feisty since last we met.” He laughs, the sound condescending and patronizing, only serving to piss me off even further.

  I shoot the goon on the right, just because I fucking can. It’s me or them. We all know this. I refuse to let myself feel an ounce of sympathy for these bastards. There’s no time for hesitation or remorse. It’s kill or be killed. So guess which one I’m choosing?

  Five down, six to go.

  “Now that wasn’t necessary, Atom.” He tisks, nodding to a man in the corner.

  The man, one who isn’t wearing my father’s emblem, steps up to Henry. My breath seizes in my throat, my foot inching forward without my permission, willing me to save the man who has loved me when I did nothing to earn it.

  The bastard in the strange leather cut removes one of the blades lodged into Henry’s thigh and quickly slams it back down, spilling more blood onto the floor.

  Henry wails through his taped mouth, the sound of his pain hitting me as fiercely as if the blade had punctured me instead.

  “He has nothing to do with this!” I scream my eyes glued to the blood pooling around Henry’s feet.

  How much more can he lose before he can’t hold on anymore?

  “Oh, but he does. I’ve recently found out that he’s helped keep you hidden all of these years. I take that a bit personally.”

  The hired goon then removes the blade from Henry’s other leg and I fire off a shot, trying to stop him before he can thrust the knife in again. I curse when I miss, knowing that the unshed tears in my eyes are blurring my vision.

  Three more of my uncle’s men take that moment to lunge for me. I fire off four shots, slinging my knife in every direction, trying to clear my eyes and stave off any attempt to be back in the clutches of the hands that haunt my nightmares.

  I see one body tumble to the ground, but the other two grab each of my arms, holding me in place. A fist to the gut causes me to involuntarily drop my gun to the floor. Another jab has me clenching my hand around my knife, refusing to drop it.

  It’s almost as if they’ve finally realized that I’m patient enough to take them out one by one if that’s what it takes. Somehow they’ve all realized, at the same time, that there’s no waiting me out.
My patience far outweighs their own and they’ll no longer allow me to use that to my advantage.

  As I spit a glob of blood in my uncle’s direction, one of the goons wraps his hand in my hair, yanking my head all the way back, holding me in place, holding me at his mercy. His grip is so tight that it pulls the hair by my temples, pulling the skin by my eyes with it. My eyes are basically slits now, blurred with the biting pain all over my skull.

  The other goon pries the knife from my hand, sticking the blade to my throat, digging in just enough that I feel the skin break.

  “You’ve made a real mess of things, Atom.”

  My uncle comes to stand directly in front of me, attempting to make me wither under his scrutiny just like I did when I was a child. But those days are long fucking gone.

  In truth, it’s laughable that he can only face me head-on when he has two men immobilizing me, keeping me from ripping him to shreds. He knows that I’m stronger than him. Smarter than him. That I’m overall fucking better than him.

  A derisive laugh escapes me at the thought.

  The sound clearly irritates my uncle, finally realizing that I’m not reacting the way he wants me to. He makes his displeasure known by thrusting his balled-up fist into my face at the same time the goon holding on to my hair shoves my head forward, slamming my face against my uncle’s fist as he makes contact with my jaw.

  The knife at my throat digs in a little deeper, and I can feel the blood begin to drip down my neck, a warm pathway flowing freely down my chest, getting soaked up by my shirt, mingling with Liz’s blood as a devastating reminder of what they did to her.

  “I think it’s time for you to come home. Maybe then you can start to work off your debt. Legal fees aren’t cheap, Atom.”

  He raises his hand to throw another punch. At the same time, I jump up, slamming my feet into the side of the legs of each of the men holding on to me.

  I wish I could say this was some fucking fairytale where the men are immediately overpowered by my strength or at the very least, overpowered by the surprise of my attack, and fall to their knees, loosening their hold on me so that I can kill my uncle.