by Bo Reid
“I’ll have to work on convincing you later, Love,” he says in a gruff but teasing tone.
“Looking forward to it,” I wink at him, and he chuckles softly, starting up the SUV and heading back towards the motel.
Ranger slaps my ass as I reach for the motel room door, and I laugh, stumbling into the room just after six in the morning until we come face-to-face with a pissed off Hunter and Talin.
“Geez, who died?” I joke, and I should really stop making that joke. Apparently, it isn’t funny when someone really is dead. Who knew not everyone has a morbid sense of humor?
“Why don’t you tell us,” Talin growls, crossing his arms, rage evident in his features. He is the least likely to agree with outright murder; another reason I wasn’t going to mention my little outing to anyone.
I just shrug my shoulders, attempting to radiate as much innocence as possible. Not an easy feat when you are, in fact, guilty as fuck.
“Seems there was a house explosion about forty minutes ago,” Talin says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Really?” I’m actually caught a little off guard. That wasn’t in my plan, but I’m not opposed to explosions. I’ve only gotten to blow up one building before.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that?” he questions, and I cross my arms, tired of his FBI routine.
“No, I don’t know anything about an explosion, but Agent Marks feel free to arrest me for something I didn’t do. Oh, wait, you already have,” I glare at him, and he softens slightly but not nearly enough.
“I’m sorry,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face. Ranger bumps my shoulder, nodding towards Talin. Talin is also the most likely one to become guilt-ridden; he has had fewer years to get used to this life.
“I might have had a little something to do with a gas leak,” I say, suddenly very interested in the wall next to me.
“Damn it, Morana!” he yells.
“What?!” I yell back at him. He takes two steps towards me, squaring up to me.
“Okay, chill the fuck out,” Hunter says, stepping between us and pushing us apart.
Ranger wraps his arms around me, protecting me, ready to defend me, even to justify murder.
“Why?” Talin grits out. “Just why? He has worked for the sheriff’s department for twenty years. He worked with my father!”
I raise my eyebrows, cocking my head to the side, waiting for his own words to sink in. When they don’t, I groan, pulling my phone out and tapping open the notes from Emma.
I pass my phone to Talin. “What does that tell you?”
“Are these bank statements?” he asks, sounding shocked.
It’s like he doesn’t know me at all, and fuck maybe he doesn’t. He came into our lives at the end of my reign of destruction and slaughter. We have been together for two years, but those two years haven’t involved murder since the Fallen Angels. Maybe Talin really doesn’t know me; maybe he shouldn’t be here after all. Maybe I’m going to do all this for him, and in the end, all I will end up doing is pushing him away.
It doesn’t matter though, walking away would be his choice, and I’m going to leave this town knowing that I did everything in my power to right the wrongs taken against his family and mine.
“Did you really think I was going to come here, find answers about your father and then say welp shit, that blows, then fucking walk away? No, I’m going to make it right; the only way I know how.”
“And murder is the only way you know how?” he asks, the way his words cut through me nearly gut me.
I actually stumble back, his words hitting me like a literal slap to my face. No, a slap wouldn’t hurt nearly this much. The way his tone digs deep into me, the judgment and disappointment wrench my heart. I always knew he didn’t care for, agree with, or condone this side of me, but I guess I never knew just how much resentment he held over the biggest part of who I am. If we hadn’t left Sanorah two years ago — if we had stayed — if I had held my role as the Reaper, would he have stayed too? Would he have been able to handle the nights I left at two in the morning only to come home covered in blood and a smile on my face?
Does he truly not know me? Does he truly think this isn’t still the biggest part of me?
I can feel my monster clawing at my insides, ripping my heart to shreds as she attempts to tear her way to the surface. The only difference is there isn’t heat flowing under my skin, no red haze clouding my vision. It’s just fog and cold, darkness and pain; for the first time, I wish for the fire to come.
For the first time, my monster isn’t trying to destroy anyone; she’s trying to protect me from someone I never thought could hurt me like this.
“Yeah, it is,” I say before turning around and wrenching open the door, begging to remember why I like the cold.
“Love, wait,” Ranger calls.
“I’m just going to get a coffee. I need a minute.”
“I’ll go with you,” he pleads, but I can’t, I just need a minute alone with my thoughts.
“Please, Ranger,” I beg softly, “I just need a minute.”
“Coffee and come right back,” he grits, hating to let me out of his sight like this.
“Yeah yeah,” I say, waving him off and walking down the street.
I pull my hood over my head and wrap my arms around my middle as I walk through the snow. The puffy flakes fall around my face, stinging my cheeks. For the first time, I don’t want to be in the cold, and I don’t want to be alone.
Kesden
The news came early this morning. Deputy Bower died in an explosion at his home. The official cause is a gas leak, and him sparking up his regular morning cigar before even getting out of bed. Unofficially, I know who had something to do with it.
Little Miss Murder.
Maybe not the explosion because I don’t see how she could have known about his daily morning cigar. But she definitely had something to do with the gas leak, and I have to say I’m impressed.
Here’s the thing, I might live in Calliope, and work within the Shay organization but I’d rather leave this bum-fuck-nowhere town and go anywhere else. Preferably with a pretty girl on my arm.
I never did care for the things we do here to run our territory; it’s not that I’m particularly bothered by our actions. It's just that if I’m going to be involved in illegal activities, I’d rather it be by my choice.
I pound my fist against the motel room door just past six-thirty in the morning and lean my hip against the frame. When the door is wrenched open, I see three looming men, but not the girl I want to see.
“Where’s my Little Miss Murder?” I ask, looking around the room again. After all, she is tiny; I could have missed her.
“Out. What are you doing here?” Ranger growls.
“Whoa. Settle down, big man. I just wanted to come by and congratulate our girl on her excellent execution on that explosion — really top-notch. Grade-A work,” I quip, but it doesn’t seem my humor is appreciated here; Morana would have laughed.
“She isn’t our girl,” Ranger says, gesturing to include me in summing up ours. “She is ours.” He gestures to himself, Talin and Hunter, not including me. Just in case I didn’t understand his meaning.
Ranger goes to slam the door in my face, but I slap my palm against it to hold it open. He turns and walks away from the door, not sparing me a second glance, and settling into one of the chairs seated around the small table. Talin slumps onto the bed while Hunter leans his head against the wall. I take a moment to study each of them, and when I see the torment in their features, it hits me.
“God, you guys are idiots,” I chuckle softly to myself, but they just glare at me in return. It would be almost comical if their idiocy weren’t hurting probably the only person they love. I’m not sure what it feels like to really be in love with someone and to never want anything bad to happen to them. I’m not even sure what it would be like to be part of a loving family, with Sunday night dinners; Talin had that growing up here and no lie, I was
jealous as fuck. I guess the closest thing I have to loving someone enough to at least not want harm to come to them is my friendship with Ty, and currently, he isn’t even speaking to me, so that's cool, not.
“What are you talking about?” Talin finally asks me, and I smile, I really do love getting to put people in their places; this is going to be fun.
“You guys would do anything for Morana; you would kill for her, and I’m sure you all have at least once. You even love her enough to look passed her crazy and condone murder. But you don’t understand her; you don’t have the urge to watch someone's soul leave their body by your hand, not like she does. So, while you love her, and you even support her, you would change her if you could. Especially you,” I point at Talin.
“I don’t want to change her,” he grits.
“Were you pissed off after you heard about the explosion because you knew it was her?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“That’s not fair. I didn’t know her reasons.”
“You should love her enough to know that she had a reason. Regardless of if you think her reason was enough to justify murder. You’re just supposed to trust that to her it was.”
“Someone breathing wrong is enough for Morana to justify murder,” Talin deadpans, and I fight the urge to deck him in his fucking face. How does someone like him end up with someone like Morana? Now, I’m not saying I would be right for her, hell, her and I together would be like the modern-day, serial-killer version of Bonnie and Clyde, but at least she would never have to worry about hiding her urges from me.
I’m so focused on being pissed off at Talin that I don’t notice when Hunter pushes off the wall, strides over to me and knocks me back into the door. My back lands hard against the door, and Hunter pushes his forearm across my neck.
“What makes you think that you know her so well?” Hunter grits out through clenched teeth. I can see the way his face heats with anger, but if I had to guess, it's more at himself and the others than me because he knows I’m right.
“Because I know how it feels when the only people you care about don’t understand you. How it feels to have them wish that they could change you,” I stop and try to take a breath, then planting my hands on his chest, I shove him off of me.
“I know what it feels like when those people walk away. You’re all a handful of fuck-ups away from losing her completely because sooner or later she is going to get tired of needing to explain herself to you. It’s exhausting having to justify your fucked-up head to people that don’t fucking get it,” I grit out, balling my hands into fists at my sides. I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid.
The real question is, why do I care that they’re hurting her? I shouldn’t want to help her. I should want to ruin her like she is going to ruin my family. But the truth is, I really couldn’t care less what she does to my so-called family. If my father can't take her, he’ll die trying, and I won't even be sad. Hell, I might even help her do it.
I can't look at their faces anymore; I shake my head, attempting to clear it of thoughts of Morana, and everything I could do for her. What would it feel like to be with someone who is just as fucked up as you are? I wouldn’t know because I’ve never had that.
Even if these guys don’t get how we think, at least they still love her enough to stay by her side. Even to kill by her side, together, as a family.
Girls love a bad boy, but only for a night or two.
They say nice guys finish last, but when they cross the finish line, it’s holding the hand of someone they love, when a bad boy crosses the finish line, it's alone. But what if it didn’t have to be that way? What if I got to cross over the finish line holding someone's hand, and what if that hand was just as bloody as my own?
“I suggest you find your girl and make this right. My guess is she’ll start to spiral if you don’t,” I say before turning around and walking out of the room.
As I make my way across the parking lot to my truck, the snow starts to fall in large puffy flakes. I take my jacket off, letting the cold pierce my skin and settle into my bones. Just how I like it.
Chapter 14: Família
Morana
I managed to get my coffee, but not even the steaming liquid can calm my racing mind. Maybe the guys are right; maybe murder isn’t always the answer.
Oh, who am I kidding? Murder is always the answer.
I watch the people pass by on the street, not even paying me a second glance. They don’t know me here; they don’t know enough to be afraid of me. Yet if they knew the things that I am capable of, they would never bow down to another Shay again.
How easy it would be to step in here and take over the town, to put Matthew Shay in his place. I could run this town; I could turn this territory into an empire. I could build a throne on top of the bones of an outdated King. Yet all I do is sit silently watching the snowfall soak into my hoodie, begging for the cold to numb me once again.
An old beat-up truck pulls up to the curb in front of me, and the passenger door swings open. “Get in,” Kesden Shay calls out.
“Sorry, Daddy always taught me never to take rides with strangers,” I reply, and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I think your dad also taught you not to get caught up with the wrong side of a dirty police force,” he nods up the street where four sheriff cars are parking. “In case you forgot, you don’t own them.”
I groan but stand from my seat and hop the fence separating the small café and the sidewalk. “And how do I know you won’t try to kill me and hide the body?”
“Because we both know you could take me, and as hot as you are, not even you would look good dead.”
I climb into the cab of his truck, closing the door behind me. Noting the blacked-out windows and the confused look on the deputies’ faces as we drive by. They didn’t see me jump into Kesden’s truck, and I doubt they would believe I did if anyone told them so.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, my tone lacking any and all emotions — I’m too tired for emotions right now.
“How so?”
“I’m already dead, and I still look good,” I smile at him and wink; he just shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself. “Why do you care if I get picked up anyways?”
“Because I think you’re my ticket out of here, but I can't use you if you’re locked up.”
“What is it with everyone thinking I’m a fucking hero all of a sudden?” I grumble.
“Oh god, who was dumb enough to think you’re a hero?” he chuckles, and I can't help the smile that pulls from my lips. “I mean, you’re clearly the villain, and that’s what I need, Little. A villain, someone willing to get just as bloody as I am.”
I cock my head to the side and study him. When he looks into my eyes, I see it and smile. The dead haunt him to, but not from guilt, from lust. He wants the cold, the blood, and the end as much as I do.
“Prove it,” I say with a sinister lilt in my tone, and he smiles.
“You got a list, Little Miss Murder?”
“Do you even have to ask?” I scoff and find the list on my phone before passing it over to him.
Pulling his truck over, he takes a minute to look over the names. When a toothy grin takes over his features, I know today just got a little better, and a little bloodier.
Talin
“Come on, I’m not fucking sitting around waiting for her to show the fuck up,” Ranger says as he stands up from his place at the table, moving towards the door.
Hunter grabs his hoodie, pulling it over his head, then tossing Ranger his and throwing mine at me.
“You coming? Or are you going to keep pouting?” Hunter asks me. I silently stand, pulling the hoodie over my head and motioning them to move out the door. I climb into the back of the SUV as Ranger gets behind the wheel, and Hunter sits in the front next to him.
“Where would she go? She walked; she couldn't have gone too far,” Hunter says, turning in his seat to look at me.
>
“Check Main Street; there is a coffee shop she might go to,” I sigh and lean my head against the cold window.
It’s my fault she’s gone; I couldn’t just let things go; I didn’t even bother to ask her why. I just assumed it was for her own fun. I want nothing more than to be the person that helps her, the person that changes her, but that's not my job. My job is to love her without conditions — like she loves me — yet I’ve spent two years putting conditions on our love. It might not be said explicitly, I never ordered out an ultimatum, but even unspoken conditions can be felt.
“There she is,” Ranger sighs as he pulls the SUV over to the curb.
I look up, and my eyebrows pinch together in confusion as I watch an old Chevy pick-up truck pull up in front of Morana and the passenger door swings open. I see her talking, and then she turns her head to look up the street. I follow her gaze and catch sight of the sheriff parking and getting out of his car.
Morana sets her coffee down, hops the small decorative fence in front of the coffee shop, and climbs into the truck.
“What the fuck?” Hunter breathes out, also not believing what we just saw.
“Who is that?” Ranger growls as he turns in his seat to look at me.
“Kesden…” I whisper under my breath, as I watch my girl drive away with Kesden Shay through the SUV windshield.
“Follow them!” Hunter demands and points his hand out the window.
Ranger moves to put the SUV in gear and pull away from the curb.
“No,” I manage to huff out, slumping into my seat.
“No?” Ranger stutters. “What the fuck do you mean, no? She isn’t safe with him.”
“He won’t hurt her; it was never his style. He’s in more danger with her than she is with him,” I explain, scrubbing a hand down my face. The only danger here is her realizing he is probably better suited for her than we are; he’s a true monster, like her.