by Monica James
Tossing the blade over and over in the air and catching it, I allow this son of a bitch his final words.
“You have no idea what he has planned. You’re all disposable, except his pretty little sister. You want to know the real reason he was so upset over Hero and her? Because he was fucking jealous! He didn’t want anyone touching what is his.”
A growl erupts from my chest. “She belongs to no one.” I see her as mine, but she is a fierce, independent woman who can stand on her own.
“That’s what you think.” He snickers. “Once he gets what he wants, he will kill that kid. It was inevitable. If you want a job done properly, you’ve got to do it yourself.” He is talking about Kong.
Kong couldn’t do what Jaws wanted—kill Jordy—which found him on the outs with Jaws.
“And what do you get in all this?” I ask, sickened.
“Jaws has been my best friend since I was eight years old. You don’t turn your back on that kind of friendship. We work as a team.”
“Your teamwork ruins lives.”
“People are going to sniff, snort, and inject with or without us. We may as well profit.” And there it is. Black and white. Scrooge and Jaws don’t care who they extort, exploit, or destroy. This is all about power and greed.
“But it seems Stevie’s profit is interfering with yours,” I smartly add. “Isn’t that why Jaws hasn’t killed me yet? I know they have history. I know Jaws was sloppy and didn’t do his research, sending Bianca’s dad to prison.”
“Is that what Stevie told you?” Scrooge clutches his hand, attempting to stop the bleeding. “You shouldn’t always believe what you hear.”
Could it be their vendetta stems even deeper?
“Stevie set Jaws up,” Scrooge reveals, adding yet another layer to this shit pile. “He said the buyers were good. He knew they were cops, but there was only room for one man in Bianca’s life.”
This tangled web will never unravel.
“Jaws just wants someone to call his own. First Lily screws him, and then Bianca. She is still stringing him along.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what you think it means. She is fucking them both, loving the attention. She’s always been a spoiled little bitch. But Jaws is done. He has scores to settle with nothing left to lose.”
His comment has me realizing Jaws is a desperate man, a desperate man who has Tiger’s son.
Bianca was playing them both. I know Stevie wasn’t faithful to her either, but these three people deserve one another. Their gluttony and selfishness really know no bounds.
“You are just a small measly pawn. Don’t ever forget that.”
Laughing sarcastically, I stop tossing the knife and point the blade toward him. “If I’m so small and measly, then why the fuck does Jaws need me? I would be dead if he didn’t. You underestimate my worth.”
Inhaling deeply, I smirk a deadly grin. “You also underestimate my need to slit your fucking throat.”
Done talking, I advance and fist Scrooge’s shirt. He tries to fight, but he’s spent. He knows he’s lost. “I’ll say hello to your brother,” he slurs, using his last breath to degrade instead of bargaining for his family’s life. That’s the type of man I’m ridding this world of.
But where he’s going, Damian would never be.
“A special place in hell is reserved for assholes like you,” I spit, pressing us nose to nose. “I’ll see you there soon. Keep it warm for me. In the meantime”—spinning the knife in my hand, I slash it across Scrooge’s throat in one fluid motion—“I’ll keep your wife warm. This is for Damian, you motherfucker.”
A shower of blood coats my neck and face as I stare him in the eye, watching the life drain from him. A look of utter shock overtakes him as it seems he didn’t believe I had the balls to end him.
He thought wrong.
He violently convulses, but I hold him up, savoring every moment of watching this fucker perish. His blood is hot and thick, sticking to every inch of me, but I stand unmoving. His breaths are ragged, thanks to the gash across his throat.
After a few short, stilted intakes of air, he stops, and his life slips away. He died looking into his murderer’s eyes. When he sags lifelessly, I tip my face toward the ceiling, closing my eyes in ecstasy.
“Three down, one to go,” I utter, exhaling in deliverance. If Damian is looking down on me, he would be shaking his head. But I know he turned his back on me long ago. I’m not the same person I once was.
Scrooge topples to the floor with a thud as I let him go. He bleeds out on the carpet while I step over him to retrieve the packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. Lighting one with bloodied fingers, I inhale deeply, the nicotine dancing with my already animated nerves.
I simply stand motionless, looking down at Scrooge’s twisted corpse. His bright red blood stains the once pristine white carpet. I’m mesmerized by the image. This man has haunted me for fourteen years and now, he’s fucking dead. Dead because of me. And I feel nothing…
Taking a slow drag of my smoke, I ignore the knocking on the door because I’m not ready. He didn’t suffer enough. I should have prolonged it and tortured him a little more. But no matter how long he suffered, it would pale in comparison to what Damian endured.
Tilting my head to the side, I understand how fragile life is. One minute, we’re here, and the next…we’re a rotting pile of blood and bone.
Continuing to leisurely smoke my cigarette, I hope Scrooge will come back to life like a bad horror movie so I can kill him again and again, but no matter how many times I killed him, it would never be enough.
“B-Bull?”
Tiger’s distant voice brings me back to the now. I’m covered in the enemy’s blood while smoking a cigarette with a smirk. And I don’t have the energy to mask my pleasure at the scene in front of me.
Her cherry blossom fragrance erases the strong metallic scent of blood, and I realize the two combined is my favorite smell in the entire world. Both feed the demons within me.
“I got this,” Jesús says with keycard in hand. That’s how he got in. They’ve thought this entire thing through.
But I shake my head slowly. This is my kill. I will see it through.
Flicking the cigarette onto Scrooge’s corpse, I turn my chin to look at Tiger. I expect to see horror or disgust, but I don’t. When I look into her beautiful green eyes, all I see is love; love for the man she loves, and the monster she fears.
“Go outside and wait for me,” I order, but she shakes her head. I should have known she wouldn’t listen. She wants to see the real me, the one who is covered in blood, and I like it more than I should.
I slip into my jacket before walking over to the doors. I open them and step out onto the balcony. It’s secluded, off to the side of the building and away from prying eyes. Stepping back inside, I bend forward, gripping Scrooge by both ankles and drag him across the carpet, leaving a trail of red.
Once he’s out on the balcony, I notice a boat tied to a dock. It seems José has thought of everything. Jesús has Scrooge’s jacket in hand.
“Take his head and fingers,” he suggests, tilting his head to see I already took one. “It’ll buy you some time.”
No dental records or fingerprints will make it harder to identify him, but I don’t plan on him ever being found.
Without replying, I grip Scrooge’s ankles and drag him along the balcony toward the stairs. The hollowed sound his head makes as he hits each step is music to my ears. I’m vaguely aware that Tiger has come out onto the balcony, but I can’t look at her.
Once I’m at the bottom, I drag Scrooge into the boat. Jesús follows, gesturing to some bricks and industrial duct tape in the corner. Glancing up, I see Tiger standing on the dock with her arms wrapped around her small frame.
Jesús starts the engine, and I contemplate whether I should tell him to go, leaving Tiger behind. And when she looks me dead in the eyes, it’s clear she is giving me the option.
&n
bsp; The right thing to do would be to give her some money and tell her to catch a cab home, but that line was blurred long ago.
Rubbing my hand against my shirt to wipe off the blood as best I can, I offer it to her. The choice is now hers. She peers at it, working her bottom lip between her teeth. She knows if she does this, she will be an accessory to murder.
I wish I had something better to offer her.
Stepping forward, she hesitantly places her cold hand in mine. I help her into the boat and away from Scrooge’s twisted heap. Jesús pulls out his cell and barks to whoever is on the other end to clean up the room.
There is no way they’ll get the stain out of the carpet, but they’ll know he is missing soon enough, which is why we need to get moving.
Jesús takes off into the night while Tiger takes a seat, watching me with wide eyes. Without delay, I kneel behind Scrooge and push him into a half sitting position. Tiger covers her mouth when his neck flops back, exposing the damage I inflicted with my knife.
I dress him in his jacket, ensuring to take out his wallet, keys, and cell. Reaching for the bricks and duct tape, I drag them over to me and begin placing the bricks in his pockets. I then hold two to his chest and wrap the tape around him, securing them to his body.
When they’re fastened, I add two more and then another two. I do the same to his arms and legs until he is weighed down. With a brick in hand, I contemplate smashing out some teeth, but Tiger’s tiny whimpers stop me.
Jesús drives for miles, and the farther we go, the more isolated things become. He clearly knows where he is going, so I simply stare into the starless sky, numb to everything.
“I remember him,” Tiger says softly, the wind almost drowning out her voice. “He looks different now, though.”
“That’s because he’s dead,” I reply emotionless.
Tiger stands and walks over to me. I suddenly don’t want her anywhere near me. I am foul—both inside and out—but she doesn’t accept my retreat and grips my wrist. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I question, eyeing her something wicked.
“Don’t detach yourself.” With a hesitant touch, she tries to touch my face, but I shift away.
“Don’t touch me. I’m filthy.”
“I don’t care,” she presses, placing her hands on my sticky cheeks. “None of that matters to me.”
I should argue with her, but I don’t, and that’s because I don’t want to. She accepts me for what I am, and for that, I am the luckiest son of a bitch alive.
Jesús stops the boat, killing the engine. We are in the middle of nowhere.
Removing Tiger’s hand from my cheek, I draw her fingers to my lips and kiss them. A weak smile is my response.
What I’m about to do will not be pretty, but Tiger won’t cower in fear. Jesús grabs Scrooge’s arms while I take hold of his legs. He weighs triple his weight, so there is no way he’ll resurface. We commence a slow stagger toward the edge of the boat, his weighted ass leaving us breathless.
We nod, and with a swing, we toss him overboard. He splashes and then drops to a watery grave. I stand by the edge, watching him sink until I can no longer see his body. Even when he is out of sight, I stand unmoving, transfixed by his grave.
He doesn’t have a resting place. A headstone to mark who he was. No one will know where he is. He is lost to the murky depths where the motherfucker belongs. Tiger stands by me, giving me space. She too seems mesmerized by what I just did.
“I’ll take you back to the motel,” Jesús says, restarting the boat.
Shaking my head, I reply, “No, I need to go back to the van. I need that asshole Baz to take me to Jaws.”
Tiger shifts beside me, and I realize she has no idea what’s going on.
“Get cleaned up first. At least attempt a few hours’ sleep,” Jesús suggests.
I snicker in response.
“Baz has to check in tomorrow. You’ve got a few hours to regroup. You need it. I’ll take care of Baz.”
“I don’t have time to regroup,” I bark, running a hand through my snarled hair.
“Bull,” Tiger reasons. “If we’ve got a few hours, let’s go back to the motel. You can shower and fill me in. You need to sleep.”
“What I need is for your brother to be dead already,” I counter, cracking my neck. I didn’t mean to snap, but sleep is the last thing on my mind.
“I understand, but you’re exhausted,” she argues. “You won’t be any good asleep on your feet. Jordy needs us to be as alert as possible.”
Sighing, I hate that she’s right. In the state that I’m in, I’m no competition for Jaws. I’m beyond tired.
“And I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she adds, slipping her fingers through mine. It doesn’t bother her that I’m covered in blood. I suppose she’s used to it by now.
With my eyes still locked on the water, I eventually nod. A few hours can’t do any harm.
Lily
I sit at the foot of Bull’s bed, biting my nails, waiting for him to finish in the shower. I was surprised he agreed to come back here, but he also knew that with the state he’s in, Jaws would make him pay for not being on his A game.
The heaviness in my chest seems to grow with each breath I take. It’s nearly over, I reason. Bull filled me in on the way back here. Tomorrow, we move one step closer to bringing Jordy back. Baz, the man who works for my brother, is in lockdown with Jesús.
I appreciate their assistance, but I can’t help but think this doesn’t come with no strings.
We all want something from one another, even me, and when Bull emerges from the shower in nothing but a towel tied low around his tapered waist, I do a poor job at masking those needs.
His wet hair is slicked back as though he’s run his fingers through it to sweep it off this face. Droplets of water cling to his inked skin. I envy each one. He sits down beside me, and all I smell is soap and juniper—his unique scent.
I am a bundle of nerves and can’t keep my leg from bouncing on the spot. Eventually, Bull places his hand over my knee to stop me.
“It’ll be okay. Jaws is none the wiser. He thinks everything is going according to plan.” But Bull has misunderstood my nerves. I had to make a choice…and now, I have to live with those consequences.
I simply nod, afraid if I speak, he’ll uncover what I’ve done.
“Do you want me to sleep in another room?” he asks, which has me arching a brow.
“No,” I quickly reply, shaking my head. “I don’t want that. Why would you ask that?”
He raises his broad shoulders in a sluggish shrug. “Tonight was a lot. I thought you might need space?” he offers, unsure.
But that’s the last thing I need.
“I don’t want space,” I say, slowly straddling his lap. We have come so far. When we first met, he couldn’t stand me touching him. And in the morning, sadly, he’ll feel the same way once again.
But I’ll deal with that tomorrow.
“How’d you know where I was tonight?”
Toying with the hair curling at his nape, I confess, “I didn’t know. I just…I needed to go. I know it doesn’t make sense, but if you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me, then I wanted to do the same for you. I didn’t know what that meant, but I just knew I had to go in case an opportunity arose. Stupid, right?”
And that is the truth.
I didn’t know what I was walking into, but when I saw Bull, a wave of relief as well as fear washed over me. Him being at the gala meant something didn’t go as planned. But I should have known Bull would never break his promise.
He still has every intention to sacrifice himself for Jordy. Yes, he got his revenge on Scrooge, but that doesn’t save him from my brother.
“No, it’s not stupid,” he says, lifting my chin to look into his eyes. “It’s brave. Thank you.”
He shouldn’t be so quick to thank me when he doesn’t know what I intend to do.
“No one has done that for me befor
e,” he confesses, and I know how hard it is for him to open up.
The thought twists my stomach, and for a fleeting moment, I just want to forget. I just want to feel.
“I want to forget all of it. Help me forget,” I beg, pulling down the straps of my dress and exposing my strapless bra.
Bull hisses, arching backward, but he isn’t going anywhere. Lowering my mouth to his, I kiss him softly, savoring the feel, the taste of him because it’s become my addiction. His hesitancy soon disappears, and he kisses me back.
But little does he know what this kiss is—it’s the kiss of Judas because that’s who I am.
With tears heavy in my eyes, I thread my fingers through his long hair, needing to anchor myself to him and never let him go. The towel stirs beneath me, hinting Bull wants me as much as I do him. He slides my dress down so it pools at my waist, and with skillful fingers, he unhooks my bra.
When it falls away, he cups my left breast, kneading it and rolling my pearled nipple with his thumb. Our kisses grow frenzied, both needing to forget. I bite Bull’s lip hard. A low rumble spills from him.
“Want it rough, baby?” he says from around my mouth.
Rocking against his hard-on, I whimper and nod.
He lifts me from his lap and throws me onto the bed. I like the savagery and the chase as I scamper toward the headboard, but he grips my ankles and drags me back down. The towel has slipped free, exposing his impressive erection, and my core clenches at the sight.
Bull sits on his ankles at the foot of the bed, watching me closely. I don’t know what he is thinking, and the fear excites me. Leaning over my body, he opens the bedside dresser and produces a pair of handcuffs. Not the kinky, pink fluffy kind. These are the real deal. We’ve apparently upgraded from cable ties.
“Still want to play?” he asks, dangling the cuffs from one finger.
In response, I shimmy out of my dress and toss it onto the carpet. I’m lying on my back in a thong and heels. Bull smirks, an animalistic gesture as he scans down my body with famished eyes.
A startled gasp leaves me when he flips me onto my stomach and places my arms above my head. The cuffs lock around each wrist with a click as Bull secures them to the headboard. There is barely any slack as I tug at them.