Devil's Ruin

by Bijou Hunter

  Ginger’s expression makes me think she wants me to ask her when the time is right, but that’s not happening.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Annie.”

  My mood gets ugly immediately. “Why?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Did you kill her?” I ask too excited.

  “Cayenne noticed Annie on the security cameras,” Ginger says, her lips tightening into a line. “Inside the fences.”

  “How?”

  “She must have been scouting out the gate and watched people put in the codes. Seems like she got three numbers down before she tried. The system showed two failures before she entered. She guessed the last number and got inside. After on the property, the chick tried every townhouse door. Luckily, they were all locked.”

  “Every door? Why not just mine?”

  “She either didn’t know where Blackjack was staying or she didn’t care. She just wanted inside. Her journal talked about how he wasn’t happy here, and she needed to help get him away from us. The chick was cracked.”

  “Did you catch her on the property?”

  “No, it was the middle of the night, so Cayenne just watched her on the cameras. Once Annie left, she went back and looked at the logs. Annie’s been around a lot. Though that was the first time she got inside.”

  “So you killed her?” I ask, picturing Annie in my mind.

  “We went to her place one night. She had dozens of journals filled with crap about Blackjack. She was convinced they were in love. She wrote about the day she came here and said he wanted to leave with her, but that we wouldn’t let him. She never mentioned that crap about him hurting her in her journal. It was all hearts and flowers and us keeping them apart. She planned to get inside again and kill us so Blackjack could be free.”

  “How did she die?”

  “We made it look like she hung herself. It was pretty quick,” Ginger says before adding. “Too quick for a nutter planning to kill whoever got in her way.”

  “You mean Duffy?”

  “Alani and Makoa would have been fair game too. I mean, we know she wouldn’t have gotten far in her killing streak, but the bitch had a gun. If she showed up when we were all outside, she might have killed a few of us before we took her down.”

  “We need better security,” I say, angry at the thought of someone hurting the kids.

  “We need to be more careful when we’re putting in our codes. She probably used her stalker binoculars. People need to block what numbers they’re hitting like at an ATM.”

  “Are you sad?”

  “Why would I be?” Ginger asks, not seeming sad at all.

  “You once said that killing women wasn’t as fun as killing men.”

  “Yeah, but it’s still fun when the woman is a threat. I can’t have anyone messing with my family and crew. That’s why I wanted us in Rawlins. It’s safer here, but it’s not safe, and I need to remember that.”

  “I’ll remember that too.”

  Ginger runs her fingers over my hand. “Annie was dangerous. If not to Blackjack, she’d have hurt someone else eventually. Some people aren’t living in the same reality as the rest of us. She couldn’t see how she and Blackjack were never going to happen.”

  “He never fucked her.”

  “I know. Oz told me.”

  “Blackjack hadn’t fucked anyone in a long time. His dick didn’t work right because when he saw pussy, he would think of the raped lady from when he as a kid. He doesn’t think about her when he sees my pussy.”

  “And we’re back to me feeling uncomfortable,” Ginger mutters.

  “You’re very sensitive. Did you have a bad childhood too?”

  Ginger narrows her eyes, and I try to keep my face serious. Failing quickly, I laugh even before she shoves me down and tickles my waist.

  “I will go zombie on you!” I scream through my laughter. “People are food!”

  Unafraid of my threat, Ginger tickles me into submission. She lets go long enough for me to shove her backward against the couch. I rest my cheek on her chest and listen to her heart beat rapidly just like it did when she had to wrestle me after we first met. I’d fight her until my muscles gave out and I couldn’t struggle any longer. Once Ginger got what she wanted from me—take a shower, swallow a pill, eat something besides cookies—I cuddled with her while she stroked my hair until I was no longer pissed.

  These days, I only want to wrestle Blackjack, and I take my pills and showers without complaining. I’m grown up now or maybe just civilized. Despite so many other changes, I will never stop wanting hugs from the woman who tugged my unwilling ass out of the darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Life Lesson #17: halloween isn’t completely stupid

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  The day before Halloween, Blackjack arrives at the house with a box full of meows. I nearly tackle him wanting to see the cats. He lowers the box, and four kittens instantly topple out and begin exploring.

  “Are they mine?” I ask, crawling after them.

  “I love you, Yarrow, and there's no fighting the fact that I’ll give you just about anything, but no way are we taking in four fucking cats.”

  “Then why bring them here?” I pout.

  “So you could choose which one you wanted. Tana found the litter when she went to the old rental. Seems a few of those feral cats weren’t fixed back when Oz rounded most of them up for the vet. Anyway, the mama cat won’t have anything to do with going inside, but the kittens are young enough to be domesticated. She thought you and the crew might take a few. She’ll probably snag any leftovers for herself.”

  “Why can’t I have them all?” I ask from under our new kitchen table where one of them explores my lap.

  “I’m not a cat person, and taking in an animal is a lot of responsibility. We can’t handle four cats.”

  I know Blackjack’s right that cats involve work—poop boxes, vaccinations, furballs. Crawling on the hardwood floor with two of the kittens, I see one heading upstairs and another messing around with the back door.

  The two in front of me crisscross in different directions. I can’t follow them both, so I sit down and watch them.

  “How can I choose?” I ask Blackjack who rests on the couch watching me watch the cats.

  “Well, seems to me the cats are choosing for you. Those other three keep wandering away while the goofy-looking one comes back to you.”

  The black cat has a white patch on his chest while the right half of his face is orange.

  “He’s not all that goofy,” I say and lower my face to meet his.

  The cat sniffs my nose before rubbing his body against my head. It’s official—I love him!

  “How do you know it’s a boy?” Blackjack asks, now rounding up the other kittens.

  “I don’t. Does it matter?”

  “It’ll matter when the time comes to get the cat fixed so it can’t make babies.”

  “Whatever,” I say, crawling after my kitten. “I’m naming him Oyster.”

  Blackjack sighs from nearby. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just popped in my head.”

  “That’s worse than Oz’s cats’ names.”

  “Like I said,” I mutter and flash him a frown, “whatever.”

  Blackjack laughs at my expression and finally wrangles the third kitten into the box. “I’m ditching them at Clove’s. Let’s see if she can tell them no.”

  “I doubt it. She couldn’t even tell Glitch no, and he’s not all that cute.”

  While Blackjack leaves the kittens with Clove—who apparently takes one before ditching them with Cayenne—and picks up cat supplies, I show Oyster my townhome. He isn’t afraid of the mechanical room at all, which makes me smile. Blackjack doesn’t fear the room either. My two boys are so much the same!

  Hours later, Blackjack and Oyster—who Ginger says is a girl—sit on the couch with me. The kitten sleeps, Blackjack plays with something in his pocket, and I watch a zombie movie.

>   “These people are really stupid,” I whisper.

  “I don’t think cats need you to whisper when they sleep.”

  “Oh, well, whatever.”

  “Stop saying ‘whatever,’” he grumbles at me, seeming nervous.

  “How come?”

  “Because I’m about to ask you something and I need a yes or no answer.”

  “No,” I say instantly.

  Grinning, Blackjack slides onto the floor and faces me. I think maybe he wants to lick my pussy, and I’m not sure the kitten should watch. Oz always kicks his cats out of the bedroom when he and Ginger hump.

  “I love you,” Blackjack says in a soft voice that makes my brain stop thinking of fucking.

  “I love you too.”

  “You’re like no one else in the world, and I feel real lucky to have gotten to know you and love you. I’d never really been lucky before, but I am with you, and I want to keep you with me forever.”

  Smiling, I cup his face and stroke his beard with my thumbs. “I never want to leave you either.”

  “Will you marry me, monkey?”

  “Yes,” I say instantly. “I’m not afraid of being married to you. I know I belong with you.”

  Blackjack kisses me deeply, yet he doesn’t want fucking. He wants me to see him as more than a sexy man. He wants me to see him as Billy and Blackjack mixed into one, flaws and all. I do see him, and he’s perfect to me in every way.

  “I remember how you said you don’t like jewelry,” he says, and I tense a little since I actually hate jewelry. Naked feels better in every way. “But I wanted to get you a ring to make it official.”

  Instead of jewelry in his pocket, Blackjack shows me a ring pop. I giggle and reach for it.

  “Can I eat the ring or do I have to save it?”

  Blackjack pulls a bag of ring pops from the couch’s storage spot. “No way would I make you save it.”

  Laughing, I hug him against me and plan to never let him go. He’s mine, and we’re getting married, and we have a new kitten to love. One day, we’ll have kids too. I used to doubt I’d get to enjoy such normal blessings like other people. Then Blackjack spoke too close to my ear and awoke a desire in me for more. Every day, it burns hotter and makes me stronger.

  I hope I make Blackjack stronger too. My man deserves the best of luck in life after making mine so amazing.

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Despite not wearing a costume to the trunk or treat at my parents’ church, I get more horrified stares than if I were dressed as fucking Leatherface. My family welcoming me back into the fold didn’t mean their friends and the other fuddy-duddy dicks of Rawlins would too.

  The closest to a costume Yarrow manages is to wear one of Duffy’s Hello Kitty hats with the cat ears. Holding the child’s hand, she gets a lot of looks from people who likely think my girlfriend is a single mom. Oh, the fucking horror!

  “My head is small enough to fit in Duffy’s hats,” Yarrow said earlier when I mentioned how they looked like twins. “Maybe my brain didn’t grow enough because I was in that room and that’s why my head’s so small.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, wanting to screw some sense into her before we left. “There is nothing wrong with your brain. You’re plenty smart. Hats just stretch.”

  Yarrow looked in the mirror, clearly uncertain about my explanation. She never said if she believed me or not before we left for the church.

  Joining us for trunk or treat, Alani dresses as Moana while her brother is Black Panther. They bring their jack-o’-lantern tote bags. Duffy has one too that Yarrow holds.

  “I get to eat her candy too,” Yarrow whispers to me.

  “Score.”

  I laugh at her devious smile before catching sight of my parents moving toward us.

  “Are you ready to get candy?” Mom asks the kids after I do introductions.

  “Yes,” Makoa and Alani say in unison.

  Duffy shakes her head, but I don’t think she even notices my mother. Her frowning gaze is on the crowd around us.

  “We better get started before she decides the entire thing is a racket,” Yarrow says and walks away with Duffy before anyone responds.

  Alani and Makoa know the drill, following along without needing instructions.

  “They’re so sweet,” Mom says, leaning into my hug.

  “I’m marrying her soon.”

  Dad stops looking bored long enough to ask, “Is that right?”

  “I already asked her. She doesn’t wear jewelry, and she already ate the ring pop, so she drew a ring on her finger. We’ll probably go down to the courthouse and get married next week, assuming she isn’t in a sugar-induced coma by then.”

  Mom gives me a tiny frown. “No wedding?”

  “We’re not wedding people,” I say and tighten my hug to reassure her. “Can you imagine my friends and your friends at the same event?”

  “I assume you’re right.”

  “Thinking about kids too?” Dad asks. “Assuming she isn’t already with child.”

  I study the line of cars parked in the church’s lot. Kids stream from one vehicle to another. After a minute, I spot Yarrow already eating candy out of Duffy’s bag. My foxy fox is not ready to be a mom. She’s having way too much fun playing auntie.

  “Down the road. Yarrow’s young, and I’m not ready to give up sleeping late.”

  Yarrow catches me looking at her and waves wildly. Alani and Makoa seem to think I need reassurance because they wave too. Even Duffy looks around and waves, though she’s facing the wrong direction.

  The fuddy-duddy types remain uncomfortable, but I’ve never been happier. The world feels lighter these days because of Yarrow. Bad shit will still happen, and I’ll still lose my temper when I ought to chill. Even so, I have my parents in my life again. Soon, Bev, her lamer-than-lame husband, and their kids arrive at the church. Rick stares terrified at me, but my sister can’t stop saying how relieved she is that I came to the event. I see my nephew and niece for the first time since they were babies. Unlike their dad, they think my tats mean I’m cool.

  My face eventually hurts from smiling so fucking much, and I only have Yarrow to blame. Without her, I never would have called my family, let alone agreed to come to this church. I wouldn’t be VP yet, not that Oz had a ton of options. Even so, he and I bonded over our crazy women’s crazy relationship.

  I owe every single stroke of luck to Yarrow trying—and fortunately failing—to disembowel me.

  Epilogues

  Final Life Lesson: embrace the light

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Even before Ginger is pregnant with her son, Rock, I decide to get healthier for when I’m ready to have a baby. I see how nausea makes Bay lose weight in the early months of her pregnancy. In case that happens to me, I want to put on extra pounds. Working out with Blackjack twice a week, I slowly build muscles too. While he pumps weights to keep his body super buff, I walk on the treadmill and watch CSPAN.

  Blackjack refuses to join me for my yoga classes with Clove and Cayenne. I don’t blame him. The exercises are stupid except for the breathing ones. They help relax me in a healthy way. Instead of taking Ativan when I’m stressed, I either use visualization techniques or roll breathing. Closing my eyes, I imagine fucking or eating cookies or some variation of the two. It’s not easy to stay calm. Sometimes, I still scream at people who piss me off, but I learn not to depend so much on medication that won’t be good for our eventual baby.

  By the time I get pregnant, I’m so mature that I no longer hurry past the mechanical room. I still think it’s scary—despite the nightlight—but I can calm myself better. Self-control sucks, but I have goals for my life that won’t happen if I don’t learn restraint.

  Pregnancy isn’t that hard. Blackjack takes great care of me. He says I’m beautiful even when I’m sweaty or get pimples. I especially like when he rubs my belly and asks the baby what her name should be.

  “Something snappy like Rosemary?” he says,
and I assume his mom suggested the ugly name.

  Unlike picking a name for Oyster, I can’t choose one for our baby for nine months or even after she’s born. I like too many while hating too many others. The crew tries everything to narrow down the list, but I’m stuck. When the hospital says I have to write down a name on the paperwork, I call her “Baby.”

  Even without a name, she’s the most beautiful baby ever. I can’t believe she’s mine. Holding her, I marvel at how soft her skin is and how sweet she looks when she yawns. There is nothing I don’t love about the baby, but she really needs a name.

  A week after we’re home, I have a dream where I’m back in the dark room. Ginger appears in the doorway, looking like an angel. Her blonde hair shines as bright as gold, and I’m drawn to the warmth of it.

  Blackjack agrees to name our daughter Goldie, as long as he gets to pick any future boy names. I agree immediately since baby naming is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

  Such a good daddy, Blackjack holds Goldie more than I do. He just can’t get enough of our baby. In those first months, we often spend entire days in the living room with her. She sleeps in her bassinette while I nap in my bag next to the couch where Blackjack crashes. Having such an amazing husband and baby makes me cry, but I promise everyone the frequent tears are from happiness.

  One night in bed after the doctor says we can fuck again, Blackjack announces, “We’ll need to stock up on condoms now that you’re fertile again.”

  “Pepper said we can buy them in bulk.”

  His smile makes me want to ride his cock again. Yeah, we’ll need a whole lot of condoms if we want to avoid having baby number two for a while.

  Goldie is nearly three when Boone comes along. During this C-section, I get my tubes tied, so we’ll no longer spend so much money keeping Trojan in business.

  I’m really nervous about having two kids since caring for one is hard enough. Blackjack promises we can handle it. He’s wrong.

  Goldie hates her little brother and screams whenever I get near the baby. Worse still, Boone has something called colic and screams whenever awake. With the kids’ screaming so much, no one can hear me freaking out too.