Snowburn

by E J Frost

“I’ll tell you when it gets too messy for

  me.” I don’t want it to be, but it’s already

  there. I’ve been careful to avoid the major

  players in Kuseros’s underworld. Too much

  visibility. Too much potential for someone

  like Mike-the-Merc to recognize me and rat

  me out up the chain. And she’s dragging me

  straight into the path of one of the biggest fish

  in the pond.

  But there’s no way I’m going to let Tyng

  break her.

  I stroke her cheek with my thumb.

  “Wanna know what I think?”

  She nods.

  “I think you’re right about Tyng. He is

  using you to test his top dogs. See which of

  ‘em barks. And he’s testing you. Looking for

  your breaking point. Maybe that’s why he

  sent you to Kincaid. He must know what that

  fucker’s like.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Her arms

  tighten around my neck. “You’re probably

  right.”

  “You gotta ask yourself where this ends,

  Kez. Once he gets his pound of flesh,

  whatever it is, you think that’ll be the end of

  it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I do. “Men like him never stop. He’ll

  destroy you, and then go after your brother

  anyway.” I stroke her fuzzy head. “It’s a

  matter of honor. And honor’s never

  satisfied.”

  “I don’t know what else to do. Short of

  tying up Chiara and dragging her back home,

  I can’t force her to go back—”

  “That’s not the worst idea.”

  She snuffles. “It goes against everything I

  believe in.”

  Her and her issues with authority. “Well,

  there’s always plan B.”

  “What’s plan B?” she asks.

  “Take out Tyng.” And it clicks.

  Something that’s been nagging at me ever

  since she showed up at the docks. Ever since

  she put her hand in mine and looked up at me

  with those big blue eyes. Ever since I

  realized it was the danger she wanted. That

  it’s what she was looking for. And the cold

  knot that’s gathered while she’s told me

  about Tyng expands to fill my gut. “But you

  already thought of that.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not suicidal. I

  could never hope to get close enough to Tyng

  to kill him.”

  That’s not much of an obstacle. Not with

  Baby Tyng on side. “You don’t think Chiara

  would take you home to meet Daddy? I’m

  bettin’ she could get you close enough.”

  Kez snuffles. “I couldn’t do it. Kill

  someone like that. I’ve only ever . . .

  defended myself. I’m not a killer.”

  I am. And she knows it. “Yeah, you’d

  need someone t’do it for you.”

  She lifts her head from my neck. Her wet,

  red eyes flick over my face. No dilation

  now. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Not at

  this moment. But there’s no question that she

  thought of it before. That this is what she’s

  wanted from me all along.

  “How much d’you think I should charge

  for that, kitten?” I ask softly.

  “Wait a minute, I would never ask you to

  —”

  “You don’t need to, do you? All you

  hadda do was get me to this point, where it’s

  him or you. You know where I’ll come

  down.”

  “No.” She squeezes her eyes closed.

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Seems to me it’s all about protectin’

  your brother,” I say slowly. “Too bad you

  had to pay flesh after all—”

  “No.” Her face crumples. “I came to you

  because I was afraid that this might be my

  last chance. If Tyng does something to me

  like what he was threatening to do to Ape . . .

  if he scars my face . . . I was afraid you

  wouldn’t want me.” A tear streaks down her

  pale cheek. Followed by another. “I was

  afraid . . . I’m so afraid . . .”

  “Kez—”

  All the fear and frustration inside her

  suddenly hits critical mass. I see it in the

  way the blood rises to her face, the way tears

  sheet down her cheeks. I have a moment, the

  calm before the storm, in which I reach for

  her, and then she explodes.

  “I never, ever thought of asking you to

  kill Tyng! How could you think I would do

  that? I’ve been more honest with you than

  anyone I’ve ever been with. I’ve told you

  everything! And you think, what, what do you

  think? That I’m just using you? That

  everything has been an act to get you to

  protect Ape?!”

  Maybe not everything. She wasn’t faking

  when she came. At least not the second time.

  I’m still not sure about the time in the alley.

  “Kez—”

  She pushes away from me and stands,

  hands clenched at her sides. “You do! You

  think I let you fuck me just so you’d protect

  my brother!”

  I know she did. What I’m trying to figure

  out is how much it bothers me. The cold knot

  in my gut says quite a lot. But not enough to

  walk away from her, not when I know what

  Tyng will do to her.

  She hiccups on her tears. “Do you know

  – do you know the one thing I’ve been afraid

  of? More than anything else? Not that Tyng

  would kill me or ruin my face or whatever,

  but that he’d find out about you. I was afraid the thing he’d take away from me is you!

  That’s why I didn’t want you to come with

  me to get the money from Kincaid! I didn’t

  want him to get a shot at you. I am such an

  idiot!”

  She’s winding up, getting increasingly

  hysterical, until she’s either going to storm

  out or say something I’ll have trouble

  forgiving. I harden my expression and point

  at the spot next to me she’s just vacated.

  Time to end the emotional maelstrom. Time

  to lay down the law. She responds best when

  I give her rules. “Sit down.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Sit down, Kezra.”

  She wipes her face furiously. Remains

  standing.

  “Sit down or you’re gonna end up face

  down on this bed while I tan your ass, and

  this time you won’t enjoy it.”

  “You fucker,” she hisses. But she sits

  down on the futon, a careful distance from

  me.

  “It’s not bedtime yet,” I say slowly,

  giving her time to cool down and start

  listening. “But I’m gonna tell you a story.”

  “I don’t want to hear—”

  “Interruptin’ me will get you that ass-

  whipping,” I warn. “Blow your nose and

  listen.” I look around for something for her to

  blow her nose on. Two of the rabbits have

  cautiously nosed through the membrane and

  are sitting near the door, watching us. They’d

&n
bsp; do, but then she’d probably have to wash

  them. I offer her a corner of the bedcover.

  She shakes her head, reaches across me into

  the drawer of her nightstand, and pulls a

  wipe out of a small container. She rubs her

  face, then blows her nose, loud and wet.

  Real snot. Real tears.

  When she looks up at me, more than a

  little resentment coiling in those big eyes, I

  begin. “This is the story of a man who’s only

  ever been good at one thing. He killed his

  first man at thirteen standard. Killed so many

  since he’s lost count. Company taught him to

  be a better killer, praised him for it, paid him

  for it, and locked him up when he got too

  good at it. It’s the one thing he knows, and

  it’s the one thing people value him for.”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I raise a finger. “What’d I say?”

  She presses her lips together, snuffles

  and shuts up.

  “If you saw this killer on the street, he’d

  look like everyone else. Maybe a little

  bigger, a little meaner. But inside—” I shrug.

  “Inside’s a different story. He knows what he

  is. Women know it, too. They can sense it.

  And they’re scared of him. Except when the

  shit hits the fan. Then women come to him.

  Lookin’ for protection. And they offer him

  the one thing he can’t get for himself. But

  they don’t offer it because they want him.

  They just want him to kill for them.”

  She’s listening now. Her eyes, bloodshot

  and wet, have dilated.

  “Our killer, he knows why they come. He

  takes what they offer. Or he pays for it, when

  he has to. But he knows that they’d rather be

  somewhere else. With someone else. And

  when he touches them, he sees them close

  their eyes. He knows what they’re thinking.

  It’s not his face they’re seeing behind their

  eyelids.”

  I reach out and take one of Kez’s

  dreadlocks. Roll it between my fingers as I

  remember how she came to me. “Then along

  comes this girl. She’s beautiful. Smart.

  Fearless. Everything he admires in a woman.

  He wants her from the very first moment he

  sees her. And when he touches her, she

  doesn’t close her eyes. But it’s all an act. It

  has to be. ‘Cause what woman could really

  wanna be with a killer?”

  She shakes her head, but doesn’t

  interrupt.

  “So when he finds out she does need

  someone killin’, he finally understands. And

  he figures she’s just like all the rest. Only

  she’s a better actor.”

  When I pause, she whispers, “Can I say

  something?”

  I nod. “Sure, storytime’s over.”

  “What if she’s a lousy actor?” She scoots

  closer to me on the futon. Puts her palm flat

  on my chest. “What if she comes to him

  because she sees something no one has

  before?”

  She’s missing the point. “People are

  drawn to the killer, make no mistake. It’s just

  for the wrong reasons.”

  She bites her lip, then plows on. “Maybe

  she’s drawn to him for the right reasons.

  Maybe she thinks he’s beautiful. Maybe . . .

  she sees how he moves . . . every motion so

  controlled. She knows that he’d never hurt

  her, never give her too much of what she

  needs to feel good. Maybe she dreams about

  him every night. Maybe she falls asleep

  whispering her secrets to the pillow and

  pretending it’s him because she knows he’d

  never betray her . . .” Her voice catches,

  breaks. Pain contracts her pupils. “Can’t you

  see I’m different?”

  She is different. I’m just not sure how

  different. “Our killer’s seen lots of kinds of

  different. In the end, they’ve all turned out to

  be the same.” Even Marin. She didn’t come

  to me because she wanted me. She just

  needed me to protect her.

  “Well, I’m not.” Her eyes fill again.

  “Kez—”

  “I’m not!” she flares. Tears slip down

  her cheeks. “I’m real! I’ve told you

  everything. No matter how bad it was. I

  didn’t hold anything back. I just wanted you

  to be real with me!”

  “This is me bein’ real, Kez.”

  She shakes her head. “This is you hurting

  me.” She strokes her fingertips down my

  breastbone. Follows the motion with her

  eyes. Her lower lip trembles. “When I was

  so sure you wouldn’t.”

  I touch her shoulder. “I’m not angry, Kez.

  I got no problem killin’ him. All you have to

  do is ask.”

  She pushes against my chest. “I am not

  asking.”

  I gather her to me. Maybe it wasn’t an

  act. Maybe I was wrong. Experience is a fine

  teacher, but maybe the bitch’s lessons don’t

  apply here. Maybe my one percent is

  something else. One in a billion. A woman

  who doesn’t care what I’ve done, or what I

  can do for her. “What d’you want from me,

  kitten?”

  “I just want to be with you.” She stops

  resisting and slowly, slowly, lays her head

  on my shoulder.

  I hold her in silence while I reflect on

  this strange, new beauty. The novelty of a

  woman who doesn’t want anything from me.

  I was telling her the truth when I said I

  wasn’t angry. The thought that it was all a

  set-up just left me . . . cold. Acid-hollowed. I

  would have been angry once. Maybe if

  Marin hadn’t died, and Mouse before her, I

  still would be. Whatever I felt, I still would

  have killed Tyng for her. And I kill best

  when I’m cold.

  But I’m not cold anymore. Her tears have

  filled that empty place. I’m not sure what to

  think. What to feel. But her reaction leaves

  me in no doubt. It wasn’t an act. I draw her

  legs across mine, then pull her completely

  into my lap. She slides her arms around my

  neck. I hold her close for a long, quiet time.

  “You told Ape or Chiara any of this?” I

  ask finally.

  “No.” She wipes her face. Is she still

  crying? I tip her face up with my finger under

  her chin. Her eyes are wet and red but her

  cheeks are dry. She’s got herself under

  control. “Tyng told me not to. I was afraid

  . . . Ape doesn’t keep any secrets from

  Chiara and, well, I don’t know if we can

  trust her. She’s still in contact with her

  sisters.”

  “So you were plannin’ on sacrificing

  yourself without even lettin’ ‘em know?

  That’s a strange kinda martyrdom, kitten.”

  Her chin crumples. “I don’t know what

  else to do.”

  I cup the nape of her neck. Give her the

  gentle kiss the moment calls for. “I’ll tel
l you

  what we’re gonna do.”

  She lifts her head and looks at me. Her

  eyes narrow. “It doesn’t involve killing

  anyone, does it?”

  “Nope. It involves finishing that rendang

  before it goes stone cold.”

  Chapter 13

  We finish our food – which has cooled to

  lukewarm but is still pretty fucking tasty – on

  the floor of Kez’s bedroom. Kez sits cross-

  legged while I prop my back against her bed

  and stretch my legs out across the polished

  pseudowood floor. I keep the conversation

  light. No point ruining what’s left of the

  meal.

  Once we’re eating and the tension begins

  to dissipate, the two rabbits that have been

  watching from near the door begin inching

  towards us. A black and white one, who

  could be Ronnie, comes in low across the

  floor, his head down, his back feet splayed

  behind him, looking like he’s crawling on his

  tip-toes. I point this out to Kez, who smiles

  through her curry.

  “They do that when they’re uncertain.

  C’mere, Ronnie.” She taps her fingers

  against the floor and the rabbit bounds over

  to her. It sniffs her fingers and then flops

  down next to her knee so heavily I feel the

  vibration through the floor.

  The black one that I evicted from her bed

  earlier hops past me in a more stately

  manner, jumps up on the bed, and nudges my

  shoulder several times.

  “Do not feed him,” Kez warns. “Spicy

  food gives rabbits diarrhea.”

  That is definitely too messy for me. I

  keep my food away from King Bunny. He

  abandons the attempt after a few more head-

  butts and stretches out across the bed, his

  long, furry hind paws kicked out to one side.

  When I tip my chin at the rabbit’s posture,

  Kez grins.

  “Glamor feet,” she says.

  That gets me chuckling. It fits. Her

  rabbits are, oddly for prey animals, quite the

  little divas.

  A third rabbit noses through the door

  flap, crosses the floor without reservation,

  and hunkers down near my feet.

  “The third amigo,” Kez says. “Wherever

  Tigger and Ronnie are, Bunker’s not far

  behind.”

  Bunker looks a lot like King Bunny, only

  it’s the tips of his ears, his face and his paws

  that are black, while the rest of his coat is a

  deep chocolate brown. His fur is just a little

  shorter than Alpha Bunny’s and looks very

  fine and very soft. Without knowing anything

  about rabbits, I’d say he’s a handsome

  specimen and I tell Kez so.