by Ella Wolfe
At the time, Tiny had told him how awful it was, that it was just a rich man's toy, but Slash had liked the feel of it. Tiny had been right, though. The damn thing was more unreliable than Wayne's sanity. Got a speck of dirt on it, it didn't work. Get a brand of bullets it didn't like, it didn't work. Hell, it seemed like if you even got it damp, it would cock up. He remembered one time he'd had the damned thing when they went out to do some shooting at the range while it was raining. Piece of shit pistol jammed more times on him that day than he could even keep track of.
And Tiny, God bless the old bastard, laughed his ass off the whole time. Worst money Slash had ever spent, but the experience had been a valuable life lesson.
Far above them, running through the rafters of the auditorium, ran a fire suppression system, one of those old ones with the water running through it. Slash knew it was up there because, one time during his sophomore year, some punk kid had put a lighter to one of those little knobs to see it would go off. And during a pep rally, no less. Now, with Wayne's pistol trained completely on him, Slash did the unthinkable. He raised his pistol, over his head.
“Slash,” Lacey pleaded, “don't do anything stupid.”
He glanced back down at Lacey's scared eyes, mentally crossed his finger and held his breath, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet shot true and, with an angry hiss, the water pressure burst through the pipe and began spraying all over them. The school hadn't exactly been diligent about clearing the lines once they'd shut down the building. Dirty, stagnant, brackish water that smelled like something had died in it. But water nonetheless.
Wayne laughed and shook his head, droplets of water cascading off the tips of his finally mussed hair. “Think a little water is gonna somehow trip me up? Make me lose my cool? Think you're funny or something, Dustin?”
He hadn't thought that in the least. Slash shook his head. “No, it's already funny enough, even if you are holding my woman hostage.”
“Your woman?” Wayne screeched. “Yours? Mine! Mine, you piece of shit! She's always been mine!” He leveled the pistol at Slash and pulled the trigger.
Slash blinked, prayed silently that his plan had worked. There was no sound of gunfire, no combustion of power, no bullet leaving the chamber. There was just a loud, disappointing click. Wayne looked down at his gun in confusion, gave it a shake. “Bullshit!” he screamed in frustration.
“Tell you what,” Slash said, holstering his pistol, “since your toy ain't working, why don't we settle this like real men?”
Wayne barked out a harsh laugh, the water still coming down on them like it was a five-alarm fire going. He shook his head and dropped his pistol to his side, but still held it and Lacey firm. He still needed her as a shield, it seemed.
“What'd you have in mind, Dustin?”
Slash slid a knife from its sheath. Its black metal seemed to glow, wet and dull from the dim light coming in through the dusty windows. There might not be a moon, but there were still stars in the sky. He tossed the knife down between him and Wayne. The blade splashed down in the water, and the assistant DA's crazed eyes settled on it. He looked from the knife up to Slash, then back again. He nodded, a sense of finality in the gesture, then released Lacey.
Before he reached for the knife he growled and swung around and slammed the butt of his pistol into the side of her head, right on her temple. She went down like a bag of rocks, collapsing into the shallow water.
“Lacey!” Slash called.
“Bitch is fine,” Wayne said dismissively as he bent down and plucked the knife from the water. He gripped it like he had some inkling of what he was doing. “This is between you and me now, Dustin.”
“Always been about the three of us,” Slash replied, frowning as he looked down at the knife in Wayne's hand. He drew another knife, a matching weapon to the one Wayne held, from the sheath on his thigh. “Hasn't it?”
Wayne nodded as they began to circle each other. “It has. Long as I can remember. You were always there, Slash, even in our bedroom before she became such a fucking bitch to live with. I could always feel you, feel her want for you.”
“That why you wanted to destroy me, then?” Slash asked as he backed away from Wayne, drew him out and away from Lacey. “You wanted her to think I was complete trash, so she'd forget about me?”
Wayne came closer, a few cautious steps at a time. “Something like that,” he said, lunging point first at Slash as he said the last word.
Slash danced out of his way, sidestepping him. In America, he'd found that people don't respect knives the way they should. Everyone thought guns were the pinnacle of weapon technology. Knives, though, could be even more deadly, more brutal than any gun.
“Hasn't worked out as you planned, has it?” Slash asked, lunging forward. He caught Wayne under the arm, slashed a nice little slit in the sleeve of his fancy suit. “Has it?” he asked again.
“Now she'll just have to cry over your corpse,” Wayne said, lunging forward.
Slash jumped back, but he was too slow and cocky. He left his leg extended a little too far, and Wayne got him in the meat of his thigh. He went down under the pain, his leg nearly buckling. Wayne was over him in a flash, like a natural born predator. His knife flashed in his hand, going straight for Slash's chest.
Slash caught his wrist and held the blackened blade at bay. He struggled against Wayne's arm, his teeth gritted in a grimace. For a lawyer, he was certainly strong. Slash was holding the knife back from his ribs, but just by a hair.
“Don't fight it, Dustin,” Wayne said as he brought up his other hand to back him up. He shoved hard, and Slash slipped in the water.
The president of the Battleborn fell to his back, with Wayne following right after him. He strained with every fiber of his being, silently cursing his cockiness and self-assuredness. He never should have gotten tripped up like that, never should have been in this position. Teeth bared like a wild animal, Wayne put all his weight on the tip of the blade, driving it against Slash's exhausted arms.
Slash pushed against him, tried to inch the blade away, but as much as he struggled the blade still shifted down towards him, towards his heart. Wayne put in one last push, droplets of water shaking off his hair and landing on Slash's face.
The knife came closer. Closer. Marching like time. It pressed into Slash's chest, the sensation searing and hot as it slowly parted his skin and began to draw blood. Slash grunted as the fiery pain erupted. It was no use. He felt his arms about to give way. This was it. This was the end.
“Fuck you, Wayne!” a woman's voice screamed from above them.
Wayne blinked rapidly, and Slash felt him release his strength. The assistant DA turned his head to the side, distracted. Lacey stabbed him in the throat with the jagged stump of a broken wine bottle. It happened so fast it almost seemed to Slash like it had just sprouted from his neck.
Wayne reached up, touched the remains of the glass bottle, and ran his fingers along its smooth, wet surface for a moment. He stood, a confused look in his eyes, and tried to speak. Nothing came out but a bloody burble of surprise as he fell back. He coughed again. Then, he was still as a grave as the water continued to pour down over them all.
Slash got up on his elbows, raised himself up and looked around.
“Slash?” Lacey sobbed, tears running down her face. “Slash, baby, are you okay?” She came running over and crushed herself to him, still sobbing as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I'm fine, babe,” he replied, running his hand over her wet hair, “I'm fine.”
“I love you,” Lacey whispered before kissing him hard on the lips.
He broke their kiss, touched her face. He'd never seen a more beautiful one in his life, even if it was covered in tears. “Oh God, I love you, too, babe,” he whispered. “I love you, too.”
# # #
Slash and Lacy stumbled out to Tiny's Prius. They'd taken a few moments inside to ‘clean up’ the crime scene. Slash put his clean unregistered pis
tol in Wayne's hand and fired it a few times, then wiped down the champagne bottle. With any luck, when the cops came calling, they'd find a crazed scene, maybe a deal gone wrong. Whatever it was, it would lead back to Wayne. All of it.
Tiny was in the car, waiting for the two of them to get in.
“Lacey,” Slash said, squeezing her hand. “I ... I just wanted to let you know ...”
“Spit it out, Slash,” she said, smiling up at him.
He sighed and shook his head. He didn't know how to do this, how to offer this to her. His tongue felt all twisted and tied up. He took a deep breath, tried again. “I have enough money for you to buy a ticket. A ticket anywhere in the world.”
Her mouth fell open a little as she just shook her head. “You're not getting rid of me like that,” she said flatly.
“Getting rid of you?” Slash asked, a little shocked she'd think that. “You think I'm trying to get rid of you?”
She slipped her hands around his waist. “What are you trying to do, then?”
“Give you an option out,” he said. “A way to leave this place.”
“But, I like this town. And I love you.” She put her arms around his neck as she stood up on tip toes. She drew his lips down to hers. “Why would I ever want to leave?”
Chapter 47
Lacey
The year passed by in a flash. When all the papers and news programs covered the story, they kept Lacey more or less out of it. She was mentioned as the ex-fiancée, but the cops ruled her out as a suspect early on. The papers didn't even mention the Battleborn or their quiet release as their lawyer Mitchell Sherman petitioned for them one-by-one. The courts, and the cops alike, were more than happy to put as much distance between themselves and the memory of Wayne Walker. To put it mildly, it had become a real shit show down at city hall.
As Slash drifted off to sleep next to her, her naked body pressed against him in their bedroom at their new home and she thought back over how things had changed in the last year. She was back in school, working on her Master’s degree. She was going to help women who had been abused like she had. Fresh B & B now had two locations, and the Battleborn were completely out of their previous illicit trades.
Smiling, she rolled over to face her man. And, of course, the sex was still amazing. Even this last time, five minutes before. Life couldn't have been better. Of course, one other important thing had changed, too. “Hey Slash,” she whispered.
“Yeah, babe?” he asked, pulling her closer to him.
“I have something to tell you.”
“What's up?” he asked, turning to face her.
She smiled sweetly and leaned into kiss him. “You're going to be a daddy.”
He grinned from ear to ear and kissed her again. “Really?” he asked, as excited for the future as she was.
THE END
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