Bullseye

by Monica James

  I watch as he hunts through the dresser for a white T-shirt and slips it over his head. Covering all that inked skin should be a crime. Without thought, he takes off his sweats, giving me a glorious view of what he’s packing beneath his black boxer briefs.

  Both his legs are also heavily tattooed, but he doesn’t give me a chance to admire them for too long because he’s stepping into ripped black jeans seconds later. I don’t conceal the fact I was checking him out because what would be the point?

  Bull has this ability to read people. He may not know it, but I can see it when he looks at others and at me. He sizes everyone up, cataloguing everything he can about them, about their environment—just as any predator does.

  He puts on socks and laces his motorcycle boots, then grabs a black hoodie.

  I can’t help but notice he has zero belongings. Wherever he moved from, he didn’t bring much with him. His lack of possessions, as well as no contacts in his phone, leaves me with so many questions. I don’t have a budding social life, but I at least have a few numbers in my cell.

  “Ready?” Bull asks, putting a hold on my conspiracy theories for now.

  Grabbing my coffee, I give the black kitten a pat on the head. He barely moves, way too comfortable in his new home.

  “Bye, Fluffball.”

  I look at Bull and smile. “Fluffball? Is that his name?”

  Bull raises his shoulders. “I guess so. I’ve given him plenty of opportunities to leave, but he won’t go.”

  “I think he likes you,” I state, coming to a stand.

  Bull appears surprised but also disgusted by my suggestion as he curls his lip. “Then I feel sorry for him.”

  He’s not looking for any sympathy. He means it. He clearly doesn’t see what I do when I look at him. I don’t have a chance to correct him before he continues.

  “Let’s bounce,” he says, putting on his hoodie. Nodding, I follow him out the door. We get into my truck and hit the road.

  The music from the radio fills the silence as Bull seems content to look out the windshield. I keep my eyes on the road, which is harder than it sounds. I am drawn to Bull in ways I don’t understand. He hasn’t shared anything about himself with me, but I’m hoping that will change very soon.

  “Does it hurt?” Bull asks after a long stretch of silence.

  “Does what hurt?” I question, keeping my eyes forward.

  “Your neck. You still have bruises from when…” He trails off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

  Instantly, I touch the side of my throat where that bastard’s hands almost squeezed the life from me. If not for Bull, I would hate to think where I would be. “Not anymore.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  Shaking my head, I return my focus to the road.

  “Why not?”

  Clenching the wheel, I shrug. “They’ll ask too many questions, and besides, a stripper getting attacked isn’t high on their priority list.” Although I don’t see myself as a stripper, no matter what I say, the police will just think it’s some client I pissed off because I didn’t give him a hand job under the table.

  I also didn’t want to report it because of the way Bull responded when I told him the cops were coming.

  He was involved, so if I report it, they’ll ask him questions, and I don’t want to involve him in any more of my shit after everything he’s done for me.

  “You’re not worried he’ll come back?”

  “Of course, I am, which is why I was thinking of talking to Carlos.”

  A grinding fills the truck. I don’t read into it.

  “I don’t want to leave Lotus, but you’re right when you said he was out for blood. He knew me, but the question is, why would he want me dead?”

  Needing a change in pace, I ask, “Do you have any siblings? I have a brother, but he left years ago. So it’s just me and, um, Jordy.” My son, not cat, I silently add.

  Something shifts in the air.

  Bull doesn’t reply, and just when I think he won’t answer, he says, “No. I do not.”

  That is definitely a touchy topic for him, so I don’t press. “What about your parents?”

  “What about them? I haven’t spoken to them in years. Mom found comfort in prescription pills. While my dad found his happily ever after in a woman half his age. But I don’t blame them.”

  “Oh?” I question because they don’t sound like very supportive parents. I should know.

  “Everyone has their reasons, Tiger. We all deal with life differently.”

  That doesn’t really answer my question, but I decide to let it go because when I turn left onto a deserted gravel road, I need a moment to compose myself. I haven’t been here in so very long, but the feelings this place evoke in me are just the same.

  The trailers are decayed and barely standing, but the homey ornaments like gnomes, potted plants, and wind chimes all hint that regardless of their run-down condition, they are someone’s home—just as they once were mine.

  I continue driving until I get to the last trailer on the right. It’s obvious no one lives here anymore. The open door, attached by only one hinge, flaps in the wind, and all but one window is smashed. I park the truck and kill the engine, unable to make eye contact with Bull.

  Opening the door, I walk to the front of my truck and stand in front of my once home. This trailer was where I was raised and where my dreams went to die. The only fond memories I associate with this place are the ones involving Jordy.

  When I think of my mom and the deadbeat losers she brought here, I clench my fists by my side. After a few minutes, Bull stands by me. He doesn’t say a word, but that’s okay because I came here to exorcise my demons as well as his.

  “It’s funny how when I was younger, this place was my whole world. It looked so big, but now, I see it for what it is—nothing.”

  He still doesn’t speak.

  “Not what you were expecting?” I ask, unable to keep the mockery from my tone. I want Bull to see that whatever secrets he guards, I can handle it. I’m not a princess who needs protecting, contrary of him coming to my aid time and time again.

  “I’m the last person to judge,” he finally says.

  Swallowing down my nerves, I confess, “I brought you here because I wanted to share a part of myself with you. And I hope one day, you’ll do the same.”

  I’m not expecting anything in return, but I should know by now that I should expect the unexpected whenever Bull is involved. “What if you don’t like what you see?” he asks honestly.

  Turning my head, I look at him, really look at him, and see that beneath his hard exterior lies a broken man. “I’ve liked what I’ve seen so far.”

  He meets my eyes with nothing but sheer confusion in his. “Why?”

  “Why do I like you?” I question, shocked and saddened by his uncertainty.

  He nods once, jaw clenched tight.

  Sighing, I direct my attention back to the trailer. “Because you’re the first person who has treated me like a human being and not a thing. I don’t know anything about you, but I want to. I know you want me to be afraid of you…but I’m not.”

  “You should be,” he says with grave sincerity. “I’m not a good person.” But his warning falls on deaf ears.

  I decide to share something with him that I haven’t with a lot of people. “We’re the same, Bull.” Before he has a chance to argue or scoff, I continue. “Both guarded and afraid of letting anyone in. I don’t know what your reason is or what secrets you keep, but mine is…Jordy isn’t my cat.”

  Filling my lungs with air, I confess, “Jordy is my son.”

  I have zero regrets for sharing this with Bull. After seeing his contact list, I think Bull needs a friend. And friends share stuff like their kids with each other. I’m not expecting anything in return, but it feels good to share this with him.

  “Which is why I have been thinking about Carlos’s offer. Not only would the extra money help, but I’m all Jordy has. I
have no idea who my dad is. My mom and brother may as well be lost to me. If something were to happen to me, Jordy would be all alone.” I rub my arms, chilled by the bitter wind as well as the thought of my son being an orphan.

  “He’s my whole life, and everything I do is for him. I work two jobs because his school isn’t cheap. I hate not being able to spend more time with him, but I want to provide for him in a way my mother didn’t for me.”

  Now that I’ve opened up, I can’t seem to stop sharing.

  “Jordy is a…difficult kid. When my brother left, it took a toll on us both. Christopher was never a saint, but he was good to me. Jordy never knew his dad, Michael, so Christopher was the only male in his life. I know Jordy idolizes his father, even though he doesn’t know him. It’s hard to compete with a ghost.”

  “What happened to Jordy’s dad?” Bull asks when I finally take a breath.

  Swallowing down my sadness, I reply, “He left. I have no idea where he is. When I told him I was pregnant, he was so happy, but it was all bullshit. A week later, Christopher told me he left town.”

  Clenching my fists, I chase the tears away. “He didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye. I was sixteen, pregnant by my brother’s best friend, and all alone. Jordy wants to know who his dad is, but how do you tell your son his father was a deadbeat loser who wasn’t man enough to stick around?”

  I leave crescent moons in my palms from clenching my hands so tight. This is the first time I’ve told anyone this. Bae knows the basics, but I haven’t gone into detail because I was never comfortable sharing this with anyone…until now.

  “But I suppose I wasn’t worth sticking around for,” I whisper with regret. “I’m a loner by choice. The less people I let into my life, the less chance there is for me to get hurt. I have a couple of friends, but even then, I missed out on college and doing all the things teenagers do because I was raising a kid. If Jordy’s dad hadn’t left, I can’t help but think how different my life would have been. Would I have followed my dreams of studying dance and going to some fancy school? My teacher, and now boss, seems to think I had the potential to get that far. But all of that had to be put on hold because I chose to have my child instead.”

  The tears I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay push past the floodgates. “You think you’re a bad person, but deep down, we’re all bad. Late at night, when I’m lying in bed, I can’t help but wonder if I made the right decision,” I whisper, ashamed. “I love Jordy so much. But the person I am now compared to who I thought I would be are so different. Sometimes, I feel as if there are two versions of me. And I don’t know who I like more. What sort of person, what sort of mother does that make me?

  “What sort of sister does it make me for going behind my brother’s back when I knew it would hurt him? He did everything for me, and I thank him by sleeping with his best friend.”

  Casting my eyes downward, I hide behind my hair because I’m embarrassed for confessing such truths. I wouldn’t blame Bull if he never spoke to me again. But what he does next has my heart—my untouched, mutilated heart—beating a little quicker.

  Gently prying my fingers open, he places a rock in my palm. “It makes you human. Take back your life. It’s yours and no one else’s.”

  Peering down at our union, with his hand overlapping mine, I fall deeper under his spell. How can someone shake everything I worked so hard for beyond repair?

  Squeezing my hand, he severs our connection while I clench the rock. This trailer imprisons my memories within its rusty walls. It’s time I set them free.

  With a guttural cry, I throw the rock, breaking the only remaining window. The sound unleashes something dark and sinister within me, and I scream. Frantically scanning the ground, I pick up another rock, not content until I smash out the rest of the window.

  Once it’s shattered, an unstoppable force has me gathering rock after rock and hurling them one by one at the trailer. Each time I hear the dull thud of metal, a small part of me stitches itself back to my soul.

  I’m covered in sweat, adrenaline coursing through me, but I can’t stop. Each strike has me screaming in victory, and Bull’s words make perfect sense. This is my life. No one else’s but mine. Wishing for a better life doesn’t make me a shitty person. It makes me human.

  With one final launch, I tear a hole through the flimsy metal wall. The blood gushes in my veins, and I’m currently a live wire as I breathlessly turn to look at Bull. He stands on the sidelines without an ounce of judgment reflected in those amazing eyes.

  He accepts me for me and, unlike most, doesn’t expect anything in return.

  I am possessed as I march over to him and fist his T-shirt in my hands. He doesn’t waver. He stands tall, allowing me to take what I want. “Why did you kiss Tawny?” I cry, grasping him harder.

  His lips tip into a lopsided smirk. “She is merely a means to an end.”

  “So what am I?” I am clearly a masochist and want to know it all. “You kissed me. Am I merely a means to an end, too?”

  Bull licks his upper lip, smoldering before me and fiercely confessing, “I don’t know what you are.”

  “Do you like her? Tawny?” I add, suddenly needing to do something with my mouth other than kiss Bull.

  “No,” he replies bluntly.

  “And me? Do you…like me?”

  The air sizzles between us, but I welcome the burn.

  “I like the thought of seeing you beg…seeing you bound…seeing you bleed,” he concludes, while I swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “And do you feel that way about Tawny?”

  “No. I do not.”

  I don’t understand it, but Bull dances with violence the way most do with love. But if this is the price I have to pay to get close to him, to continue this feeling of being…alive, then I’ll do it. I want it all.

  “And what if I want that?” I ask, skating closer and closer to the gates of hell as I get lost in his eyes.

  “Be careful what you wish for. I’m not the Prince Charming in your story.”

  “I don’t want Prince Charming. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the princess who needs rescuing.” I dare him to fight me.

  “I will break you,” he warns, and there is nothing melodramatic about his claim. It’s a promise.

  “I don’t believe you,” I challenge, standing on tippy toes to bring us eye to eye.

  Bull’s arms are rigid by his side. He is allowing me to manhandle him, to take my frustrations out on him, and that empowers me beyond words. If I were to do this to any other man, they would have lost control the moment I played rough. But not Bull.

  He is coolly composed, showing no emotion, while me, I am a bundle of nerves. Being this close to him has every fiber of my body throbbing in want, need, desire. I have never felt this carnal…hunger before. It’s addictive, and like an addict, I want more, more, more.

  When he lays his cards on the table, I’m certain I will buckle with his promises.

  “If you’re looking for a good time, then I can do that. If you want someone to”— he pauses, before smirking—“fuck you and lick your pussy until you’re screaming for more, then I can be that man. I can rough you up if you want, make you beg.” My pounding heart almost spills onto the floor. “I can be whatever you want me to be. I just can’t be your forever. I do what I want, when I want. I don’t do romance. This is who I am. Don’t try to fix me because I was broken long ago.”

  My cheeks blister because if that was supposed to scare me, it’s done the complete opposite. There are no empty promises, no confusion as to what this, to what he is. Any sane woman would leave with her dignity intact, but not me. His warning only provokes me.

  I don’t have a chance to speak, however, because his cell chimes, severing the dangerous current between us. Instantly, I let him go, allowing him to reach for his phone in his back pocket. When he answers, I notice he keeps the exchange short, disconnecting the call within a few moments.

  “I have to go
.”

  “Oh?” I reply, hiding my disappointment. I was hoping we’d continue where we left off. But the call just ruined the mood.

  I want to ask who it was, but I don’t. “Okay. I’ll drive you back.”

  He nods and heads for the truck. His urgency has me wondering where he’s going. And more importantly, who called. I want to ask but decide not to push my luck.

  Bull is a complex man, and like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to his darkness. Before I met him, I didn’t even realize those depravities were inside me. But they are. They excite me. They make me feel alive.

  There is no turning back now.

  Bull

  Kong called me with an address. It was that easy.

  I messaged him early this morning to tell him I was interested in whatever his boss was offering. I knew what the terms were but played dumb when he told me the ins and outs of what I was to do.

  There’s a fight tonight in some deserted neighborhood about an hour away. The rules were simple—fight and win. For my trouble, I would get paid a thousand dollars. If I won, I would get double that. Kong told me this was just a base rate. With each fight and win, the amount would increase. But the money isn’t my motivator—seeing him dead is.

  So I agreed.

  I called Lotus and told her I wouldn’t be in tonight. I said I was sick. I hated lying, but this is my chance to put my plan into motion. Losing isn’t an option. The more wins, the closer I get to earning Kong’s trust.

  I need to know who the other two assholes he ran with are. The thing about a successful predator is that they study their surroundings and familiarize themselves with every variable to ensure that when they strike, they do so with efficiency and skill.

  There is no room for errors. Or distractions.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I follow the GPS, refusing to think about her—again.

  Tiger is a distraction, a dangerous one. Today, it took every shred of control I had not to give in to temptation and deliver on the things I promised. It was supposed to scare her, give her insight into who I am and what I would do to her.

  I expected her to run. She didn’t.