Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  “Okay, keep a steady grip, don’t pull too hard,” I said. I leaned toward him, ready to offer a hand if needed. “Remember, slow and steady.”

  “Like the tortoise,” he said, giving a curt nod. I wasn’t surprised that he remembered. His favorite bedtime story was the one about the tortoise and the hare. I was more surprised by the memory of Pop, the first time he brought Harry fishing with us, and the way he’d used the story to teach him how to handle a fishing rod.

  “Yeah, bud,” I said. “Just like the tortoise.” The Kid’s tongue stuck out of his mouth as he leaned back, focused on pulling the fish out of the water.

  Then the rod snapped in half.

  He blinked, staring at the piece in his hand. His face turned red, and he stood.

  “This is stupid,” he said, throwing it to the ground. The stick bounced off of the rock and into the water, sending ripples cascading across the glassy surface of the lake. He stalked off.

  “Well,” I said. “Kids.” I wanted to comfort my brother, encourage him, but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t Mom or Pop. I’d never been good with him. We’d managed to regain a sliver of our past. I got comfortable enough to think things could be like they once were. I knew he really wanted to catch one, and maybe he felt the same disappointment I did.

  “He just wants to be good at something,” Bonnie said in a low voice as we watched Harry plant himself on the sandy shore, legs tucked beneath his chin. “He looks up to you.” I turned to her, surprise and confusion warring in my chest. “He just wants to feel included.”

  I’d never thought of it like that before.

  It made sense. Any time Pop invited him to join us, whether we hunted or fished or just tended the farm, he was excited. I’d brushed it off, bitter about the differences between the way our parents raised me and the way they were raising him.

  All he wanted was to be a part of it, whatever it was. Why didn’t I see that before?

  “It’s not like it was,” I said, lowering my gaze to the fishing rod in my hands. “It never will be. Maybe it is stupid, trying to make things like they used to be.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Bonnie said. I looked up at her, surprised by the compassion in her eyes.

  “No?” I asked. Her eyes softened as she looked at me. She placed a hand on my thigh, gentle, almost innocent.

  “Show me,” she said, her voice full of certainty.

  Something changed between us. Something significant. After all we’d gone through in our short time together, it was inevitable we’d find ourselves on the same side.

  “Okay.” The word felt stupid coming from between my lips. I put an arm around her, placing the rod in her hands. The scar on her arm caught my attention. Lines of angry pink skin spelled out the name of the man who’d raised her. Anger coursed through me, remembering how Sixgun had owned carving the word into her skin.

  “Keep a firm grip on it,” I said, tucking her in front of me. My chest was hot against her back. An effect of the afternoon sun, I tried to convince myself. I leaned forward, perching my head above her shoulder.

  I guided her hands to toss the line into the water. She took in a sharp breath. My pulse pounded in my ears.

  “Like this?” she asked, breathless. I nodded.

  “Just like that,” I whispered, hoping she couldn’t feel my growing desire at her back. This was the closest we’d been since that first night.

  That fire within me, the one that smoldered for her, began to burn.

  Bonnie turned her head in my direction, her hot breath hitting my cheek in short bursts. I’d wondered if her reaction to me in that alleyway was all show. Based on her quick breaths and the flush on her skin, I had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Heat surged as the fire inside of me raged; the desire I’d stamped down broke past my carefully curated walls. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I didn’t want to.

  “Eyes forward,” I said, gulping. Bonnie didn’t listen to me. I tilted my head back to look at her.

  There was heat and desire and downright longing in her eyes. Her hot breath caressed my lips, reminding me of last night, of how she’d wanted to kiss me. I’d wanted to, even more than I had in Vegas. I lifted one hand to her cheek, gently cradling her face as her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted.

  One kiss wouldn’t end the world, right?

  I tipped my head down, pressing my lips to hers slowly, gently. There was heat, but there wasn’t urgency. The desperation in her last kiss outside of Vegas was gone, replaced with a vulnerability that I didn’t think she’d ever show me. I ran my tongue across her bottom lip, and Bonnie obliged, opening her lips beneath mine. I groaned against her mouth.

  One kiss might not end the world, but it could certainly kill me.

  Chapter Thirteen - Bonnie

  I was drowning. I was trembling. I was aching. I was dying.

  My fingers buried in his lake-water-slickened hair. Droplets freed from the ends by my mussing to rain down on my feverish skin. His tongue slid against mine slowly, as if we had all the time in the world and all he wanted to do with it was savor me.

  I don’t know what had happened to the fishing pole, if it fell into the water or rolled into the shrubs. There wasn’t room for anything but Jesse. He filled my vision, his taste causing a slick heat to grow bright within me. He groaned against my mouth, and I gasped into his. The rumble of his groan shuddered through my whole body.

  Stop, Bonnie.

  But I couldn’t. His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my head, fingers tangled in long dark strands of my hair. The heat in my blood raged until my bones melted and my body grew pliant in his arms. Jesse didn’t grab at me, the way most men did. Instead, his hands held me steady, pressing along my spine until there was no space left between us. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was sure he could feel the galloping rhythm through my skin. In all the nights of passion I’d shared with beautiful strangers, I’d never felt like this before.

  Naked.

  Sure, they’d seen me naked, but that was just my body. Jesse saw me, all my scars and jagged broken pieces. Maybe for him it was how little I was wearing, but for me, this kiss was the first I’d had with all my guards down. It was just me kissing him now. Not Bonnie the outlaw or Bonnie the vixen. Just a broken, lonely girl who’d never felt safe or cherished until right now in his arms.

  “Hey! Stop kissin’ already! I’m hungry!” The Kid shouted, and we both stilled, neither breathing. Jesse pulled away, hunger burning low and steady in his blue eyes. I dropped my arms, chest heaving, as the realization of what I’d done sank into my feverish skin. I’d broken all my carefully crafted rules for a taste of him.

  “We’re coming,” Jesse shouted back. He turned to me, his hand sliding to the small of my back, leaning forward as if he would kiss me again. Panic flashed through me suddenly. I pushed away from him, putting space between us. Gulping in air that didn’t make me dizzy with his scent. Dread unfurled within me, like tendrils of ice, forcing a shiver down my spine.

  What was I doing?

  “Bonnie.” His voice was that deep canyon timbre, soothing, as if he could read the panic on my breath. Maybe he could. “That kiss—"

  Tell him. Tell him how much you want to do it again, an insidious voice whispered in the back of my mind. Don’t run away, you fucking coward. Coward!

  I stood and retreated swiftly, fear and longing and loneliness mingling into a cocktail of emotions that triggered the familiar urge to run. Before I got more than a few steps, Jesse gripped my upper arm. His fingers clenched tight around the knotted scar tissue that’d long since lost feeling. My past crashed into me, like a tidal wave of darkness.

  “Don’t touch me,” I said, wrenching my arm from him. The claws of that darkness dug deep inside and left me raw and shattered. I covered the knotted scar with my hand, as if to hide it from his sight. Jesse’s eyes had been soft when he looked at me before; now they were wide and concerned. He held his hands up, as if to calm a spooked horse.


  “Talk to me,” he said. How? In a few hours, none of this would matter anymore. I wouldn’t matter anymore. Not to him. I’d ride away into the night, and he’d never see me again. He would find another farm girl to marry and think about me on lonely nights. The broken girl who’d outsmarted him once and probably wound up dead somewhere along the way.

  “Why?” I asked, my words hard and bitter. “All I’ve been doing is talking to you. Yet you can’t seem to hear anything I’m sayin’. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not your type before you get it?” Confusion dimmed the bright shine of his blue eyes. His hands fisted at his sides, and he took an angry step forward.

  “Then why the hell did you try to kiss me last night? Why’d you climb into my bed?” he asked. I clenched my teeth to keep the words I wanted to say locked tight within me. I feel safe with you. I’d be gone in a few hours; I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t leave that piece of me behind. I had so few left already.

  “Maybe I thought you’d stop looking so wounded after I fucked that guy on the train. Did you ever think of that?” I said, the words ugly and untrue. I wanted to hurt him as much as it hurt me to leave him. His hands fell to his sides, shock stealing his words.

  “I’m not some charity case,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice hinting at barely veiled anger. He looked away, taking a steadying breath before turning back to me.

  “I don’t care about what happened on the train,” he said, his voice deeper and calmer than before. Without thinking, I snorted derisively.

  “Sure you don’t, farm boy,” I retorted, my words designed to wound his pride. “That’s why I had to stop you from starting a bar fight with that woman hittin’ on me in Santa Fe, right? Because you don’t care.”

  “Yeah, well, she—"

  “Of course, I must not know what I’m talkin’ about. I had my brains fucked out, after all,” I said, each word bitter like poison on my tongue. “It’s kinda funny, you callin’ me stupid when all you’ve done since I met you is stupid shit. The mirage, letting your brother almost get killed by a snake, giving Selene to that skeezy innkeeper, telling Sixgun you fucked me...” I ticked off each instance on my fingers, arching my eyebrow in a clear challenge.

  “Excuse me for trying to save your life,” he said, condescension dripping from his tone.

  “No one asked you to do that.” I huffed in frustration. “The only thing a hero is good for is dyin’ young. I don’t need anyone to save me. I never have, and I never will.”

  “Then I should’ve just turned you over to Sixgun in Vegas!” Jesse shouted.

  Each word thudded into me like the point of a knife. I gave myself up for him. Something I swore I’d never do. I’d like to think I kept my face indifferent, but that’d be a lie. My expression screwed up, hurt and betrayed, before I could stamp it down.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you’ll be rid of me soon, then!” I spat, my heart falling to my feet as I fought the tears in my voice. I only half-succeeded.

  “I guess so!” he shouted back.

  “Fine!” I yelled. Because I was too angry to think up anything meaner.

  “Fine,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together.

  I turned my back so he wouldn’t see my face fall. I walked down the path towards the lake, and The Kid was on his feet as soon as he saw me. I clenched my feelings down tight, because he noticed everything. I crossed to the horses and unbuckled one of the saddle bags. The Kid already had questions poised on his lips.

  Pulling out a pair of jeans and sliding them onto my damp legs, I hopped up and down to get them over my hips before zipping them. After that, I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt with a conservative neckline. Certain that I didn’t want to feel exposed in front of Jesse.

  “Why are you mad at Jesse?” The Kid asked, but I ignored him the best I could as I shuffled into my clothes. “Is it because you kissed him?”

  Heat burned my cheeks. “I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me,” I corrected, the words snapping tight, but The Kid didn’t care. He just barreled on with his endless questions.

  “Or did you miss catching a fish too?” he asked. It seemed so stuffy all of a sudden. “It was the kissing, wasn’t it?”

  “Rule number one, Kid!” I screeched. The sharp tone of my words reverberated around us, echoing back to my ears and making me cringe. The Kid’s face fell, eyes wide and fearful, as if he’d never seen me before. I regretted the harsh words instantly, tugging him to my chest and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. After a while I began to gather our belongings and tie everything down for the afternoon ride that would separate us forever.

  In the hours that followed, I kept my distance from Jesse. The Kid swam, we ate in silence, and before long, we were riding towards Roswell. I paused briefly, looking over my shoulder as the sun set behind the ridge of the lake, knowing that as horribly as the day had ended, I’d never forget this place. The sun dipped low, and my heart thudded in my throat every time we turned a corner.

  Would this be the turn that led us into Roswell? Would this be the last time I saw The Kid smile or heard him complain? Were those the last words I would ever say to Jesse?

  If I hadn’t been so lost in my thoughts, I would’ve noticed sooner. The night was too quiet, too still. The closer we got to Roswell, the more my sense of unease grew. I couldn’t see the glow of any lanterns or campfires, couldn’t hear anything beyond the howl of coyotes in the distance. The moon was bright enough to make out the shapes of buildings as we rode closer. Buildings overgrown with spindly plants, the shards of broken windows glinting like jagged teeth in the moonlight.

  “Where’s this base of yours?” I asked, trepidation in my voice. The Kid cracked open bleary eyes as we stalled the horses somewhere on the north side of the town. Jesse, however, didn’t acknowledge me at all. He was looking around the town, knuckles bleached white against the reins in his fist. I guess he isn’t talking to me.

  He swung down from his horse and walked until we reached the center of town. Once we’d reached the main thoroughfare, it was clear this place had been abandoned long ago. The buildings here were crumbling, faded scorch marks on the shop fronts and the skeletal remains of awnings that might’ve been colorful once. Now everything was awash in gray moonlight, everything except the orange glow of a single lantern.

  Fear settled into a hard knot in the pit of my stomach, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end in warning. Despite my misgivings, Jesse pushed toward the light. An old woman sat outside the ruins of a shop, a knife moving in her hands as she worked, hunched over in the dim lamplight.

  “Excuse me.” Jesse’s deep voice startled me in the silence of the night. The woman didn’t acknowledge him at all. I stared at her, my eyes assessing for potential risks. The only thing I could clearly make out was the knife in her hand. No hidden guns or weapons.

  “Jesse,” I hissed in warning. He was too close to avoid a stab if she were to attack him. He didn’t even turn in my direction, insistent on ignoring me. I clenched my teeth together to stop the angry words resting on my tongue. My eyes fell to her face, the silver of scar tissue reflecting the moonlight as she kept her eyes downcast. Dread flooded through me, cold and unsettling.

  “Hey, lady!” The Kid shouted, trying to gain her attention.

  “Hush,” Jesse snapped paternally, earning a grumble from The Kid.

  “Excuse me,” he said again, leaning closer to the woman. My heart was in my throat, my hand gripping tight to the handle of the M9 as I clicked the safety off.

  She lifted her head, and Jesse took a startled step backwards. Half of her face had been burned away at one point, now hardened into silvery scar tissue. Where she’d once had hair was only hard, marred flesh. One of her eyes was sunken too far into her skull, an eerie, unseeing white film covering it. The burns were violent and ugly, reminding me of another violent and ugly scar. The memories yawned open in the blackness of the night surroundin
g us. Let’s remind her where her loyalties lie. Jones’s voice filled my mind.

  “We’re looking for the Air Force base near here. Do you know where it is?” Jesse asked, and she nodded, seemingly unable to speak as she tried to gesture with her crooked fingers. “Can you show us?” He realized quickly he wouldn’t be able to understand her game of charades.

  I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this woman, or her scars. I didn’t like the idea of taking her with us.

  “You can ride my horse,” Jesse offered. My eyes snapped to his face, furious words poised on my tongue. “Kid, ride with Bonnie.”

  It was the first time he’d acknowledged me since our fight. His eyes were hard, unyielding, and as The Kid shuffled out of Jesse’s saddle and scrambled over to climb up mine, I scoffed at his blatant command. I was under no obligation to ride with them to the base. If it weren’t for The Kid, I would’ve told Jesse to go fuck himself back at the lake.

  “I hope you know what you’re doin’, farm boy,” I said, a warning and a threat. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “It’s not smart to trust an undesirable.”

  He’d already turned away, shoulders bristling at my tone, and let the woman lead us forward through the night. The clop of hooves against crumbling asphalt echoed eerily in the silence of the night. We continued on that way, until we couldn’t see the buildings of Roswell anymore.

  She kept riding into the thick of the wilderness, turning off the asphalt path and leading us into strange woods. Another half hour and my grip on the M9 was punishing. With each turn, the dark shapes of water-starved trees like skeletal hands crowded closer. As if beckoning us back the way we came.

  Turning a corner, the woman stopped Jesse’s horse with a tight pull of the reins, and Eagle pranced away from a makeshift fence in the distance. The bioluminescent blue glow of hundreds of glowroot plants, clustered together like constellations in the night sky, forced a sound from my throat I didn’t recognize. Fear, thick and suffocating, robbed me of speech. My stomach thrashed, threatening to empty itself. The old woman scrambled down, motioning with arthritic hands and opening her useless mouth to say something to Jesse. It was clear what lay beyond the fence.