Alright. So maybe I was just looking for a distraction. I was itching to get the hell out of this place since my tires crossed into town the day before. From one town line to the other, I had nothing but bad memories. Every inch of the place was shrouded with the ghosts of my past. Every person looked at me and knew who I used to be. They all knew about the bruises that used to line my forearms. They all knew the look of my ribs sticking out of my torso. They all remembered the fights I used to pick as a young teen, misplaced anger swirling around me like poison, making me slam my fists into anyone who dared look at me the wrong way.
It was the worst possible feeling for someone who spent his life making sure no one knew about his past. I had gotten good at almost convincing myself I wasn't Johnnie Walker Allen anymore. I was just Shooter. I was a man with a gun and a steady trigger finger. I was the guy you went out for beer with who left with the hottest chick in the room. I was someone too laid-back and reckless for things like regrets and sore spots.
Being in my home town stripped away everything I had believed about myself.
And analyzing Amelia was an easy way for me to not have to turn that lens on myself.
Now add in the fact that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, yeah, I was interested.
Hell, I wanted to spend more time with her enough to actually fucking agree to stay for my father's funeral. That was two more days. Considering I had every intention of being on a plane back to Navesink Bank right that moment, that was a pretty big deal. Now if only I could get her to the point where she wasn't constantly trying to keep me at a distance, that would be great.
"You're not wrong," she admitted after the longest possible pause, a pause that was long enough for the waitress to come back and drop off our drinks, giving me a smile that suggested if I wanted to meet her after her shift, she would be all too willing. She was cute and she was into me in a very superficial 'we don't have the likes of you around these parts' kinda way. But she was way too young and altogether too eager. No, apparently I preferred getting caught up in Amelia's brambles.
Christ, when did I turn into a masochist?
"So we can let all the I want him, but don't want him to know I want him shit drop now?"
She rolled her eyes, letting out a long breath that sounded suspiciously similar to a sigh. "I think you're charming, Johnnie. I'll admit that. But that's all it is. Nothing is going to come of this."
"Why not?"
"One, because I barely know you. Two, because even if I did want to get to know you, you're out of here in a few days. And three, I'm just not interested."
"Well two of those are true," I said, giving her a small smile.
"All three are true," she insisted, but it lacked the conviction she wanted it to have.
"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"
Her head jerked back almost violently, her eyes going wide as she looked around us. "You wouldn't do that."
"Wouldn't I?" I asked moving to stand slightly and lean across the table. Her eyes stayed on mine and her breathing went shallow as her lips fell slightly open. I felt the side of my lips quirk up. "You're right," I said, booping her on the nose before settling back into my seat. "When I kiss you, angel, I want it to be in private. I want you to be completely comfortable so I can kiss you slow and deep and thorough and hear the little murmurs you make at the back of your throat."
She swallowed hard once, twice, three times before she shook her head. "I don't do that," she said in an airy tone and I knew she had been fantasizing about my arms around her, holding her tight to me as I kissed her to shivers. "And you meant if not when."
"Did I?" I asked with a wink before turning my attention to Jennie who was back to take our order. I didn't need to look at the menu. One quick glance and I realized it was exactly the same as it had been when I left town. So I ordered the BLT with a side of onion rings.
Amelia ordered a grilled cheese and was holding back a smile when Jennie walked away. "Well," she said at my questioning look, "that settles it."
"Settles what?"
"You're definitely not going to kiss me after eating onion rings," she said, letting the smile slip out and the effect was so breathtaking that my chest felt tight. She didn't seem to be the kind of person who found cause to smile often, but fuck if the result of one wasn't like a kick to the balls.
"Honey, I could go full-on Shrek on a raw onion and you'd still let me kiss you."
"You're ridiculous," she objected and suddenly, there was none of the coolness in her tone anymore.
Our food came a few minutes later and we ate in companionable silence. I very slowly brought an onion ring up to my mouth and made a show of eating it, making a surprising little laugh drift from between her lips.
"I have to get back to work," she said as I dropped money on the table. "I've already been gone too long."
"Father Sanders seems to already have a grudge against you so fuck him."
She let out a humorless laugh. "It's not just me. He doesn't like any of the women around here."
"Yeah well, it's hard to be nice to women you want to, but can't, stick your dick inside."
"Oh for heaven's sake, Johnnie. He's a priest!" she objected, sounding only half as outraged as she wanted to.
"Did I miss it? Did they start castrating the clergy now?" I asked as I led her out the front door. "'Cause if not, he's still got a dick and the urge to use it, no matter how close he is to God."
She gave me a small shrug and I could tell she wanted to find a reason to fight me on my point, but she had none. Maybe it was because she knew she had no good reason to pretend to hate me anymore; or maybe it was because she didn't feel the urge to protect a man who obviously didn't like her. "Come on, I'll walk you back," I said, running a finger underneath the strap of her sundress before letting it drift down her bare arm. Her entire body tightened and, despite the hot-as-balls air outside, goosebumps rose on her skin.
"No, really. It's fine. I got it," she said, jerking away from my touch. "Thank you for lunch. And, um... thanks for putting those jerks into their place too. I hate that small-minded macho stuff."
"I could tell," I said with a small smile.
She moved to walk away but spun back around. "Did you really mean it?"
"Mean what, darlin'?"
"The stuff you said to them. Like... about the friend zone being nonsense and women meaning more than spread legs and an open mouth."
"Of-fucking-course I meant it," I said immediately, meaning it. "Baby, I like women. I don't just like the way they can suck my cock or ride me. I like the whole package. Not all men are assholes like that. Not even horndog, player, ladies' man, womanizing, Lothario, sluts like me."
Her face fell slightly. "About that," she started, not quite able to meet my eye. "I didn't mean to..."
"I was teasing you, honey. I like a woman who is confident enough to put me in my place now and then. Now get back to work. I'll see you around."
She nodded and turned, her movements almost awkward and I couldn't help but laugh as I watched her go.
"She's the prettiest girl in town but won't give any of us the time of day," a voice said from behind me. "And believe me, man, some of us have put some real work into getting her attention. You're back in town for a day and you got her out to lunch and so frazzled that she trips over her own damn feet walking away from you." His voice sounded amused and teasing and I turned to find a familiar face.
"No fucking way," I said, shaking my head, a smile spreading across my face. "You never got yourself the fuck out of this place, Dade?"
He looked different. Of course he did; I hadn't seen his face since we were fifteen. When I left, he was still all arms and legs, gangly and gaunt despite eating enough food to supply a small village. As a man, he was a good six-three of solid, unyielding muscle. His face had filled out, his sharp jaw covered with light blond stubble that matched the buzzcut on his head. His
light blue eyes had slight crows feet beside them from, no doubt, squinting up at the sun all day.
"Nah, man. Dad got sick, couldn't work anymore. I took over things at the ranch. Got myself stuck here. Never fucking thought I'd see you again." His voice showed a hint of emotion that I felt tug at me inside.
Dade was the only person I had in this bumfuck town. He was the only one who looked at my surly-ass antics and thought he seems like a good friend. He wasn't wrong. We had a bond that most people never managed to hold onto. That was until I took off one night when I was fifteen and never said a word to anyone around town again, including my only friend in the world.
"God, I'm such a fuck," I said, shaking my head at him as his face spread into his usual carefree grin.
"Yeah, yeah you are that," he agreed with a shrug. "Didn't think I held that against you, did you? Knowing what the fuck you were dealing with with that old man of yours."
"Still a shit move. I should have gotten in touch. 'Least let you know I was alive."
"That woulda been kind of ya. But shit happens, y'know? Bygones and all that. Moving on... how the fuck you get her to smile at you like that?"
"Always were jealous of all the tail I got," I said with a grin.
"I've never known anyone else that the entire town disliked so entirely but could somehow make all the panties drop."
"Wasn't my fault you were so fucking ugly, man."
"Fuck you," he said, shoving my shoulder in an old, familiar way. "I do just fine now. Except with Amelia. Every man who has tried has struck out. Even that rich dick who owns that building of hers."
I tried to keep my tone casual. "Rich dick?" My hometown had a couple rich families, the ones who lived in the huge, old houses on the outskirts of town. But they were all as old as dirt.
"Yeah. He moved here 'round two years ago. Got sight of her, started sniffing around. She'll go out with him every now and again. Though I 'spect it's more to get him off her case than it is about genuine interest. He takes her out to some fancy ass places out of town then drives her home. Word is, he's never even been in her apartment. Why the poor fucker keeps trying is beyond me."
"You've seen her," I said dismissively, not liking even saying it. True, she was gorgeous, but she was more than that. She was a whole package. It went without saying that I wasn't the only guy who saw there was more to offer there than just her looks. "So how's life? The ranch? Your mama?"
"Ranch is good. Pulling in more profits than ever before once I got the place out of the stone age and put up a website and shit. Mom is okay. Taking dad's death pretty hard still..."
"Fuck man," I half-groaned, feeling like the biggest dick in the world. "Sorry about your old man. I had no idea."
"Been five years," he said, waving a hand like it was water under the bridge. He paused for a minute, looking off across the street before his gaze went to my face again. "It really is good to see you, Johnnie. I always wondered where you ended up."
"A little bit all over the place. I travel for work. But I live up in Jersey. Got a nice little life set up."
"If anyone deserved a nice life, man, it's you after all you went through..."
I felt myself shrug. "Long time ago," I said, knowing I wasn't fooling either of us. There were some metaphorical wounds that never fully healed, not unlike the literal ones - like the deep soreness I still got in my left arm when it got rainy outside from the time I was ten and my dad grabbed it and pulled until it snapped.
"Look I gotta get back to work, but you and me, we need to have a couple beers before you head back out of here."
"You got it," I agreed and he shook my hand hard while clamping the other one on my upper arm, before turning and running off to his big, late model red pick-up truck.
I hated to admit, even to myself, that Dade had been a time-blurred memory for me for a long time. So much time had passed; so much shit had happened. But back in the day, he was the only comfort I had when my dad was on a bender and saw my young body as a punching bag and my grandmother would tell me when I showed up at her door, scared and hungry, that my place was at home with my father. His house was the only one that would accept me, let me in and give me a square meal, then send me back in the light of day when my father was either sleeping off a hangover or at work being a pain in someone else's ass. He was the only one who didn't look at me with pity when he saw the welts and bruises. He was the only one who tried to take the sad little outsider and make his life reasonably better.
But the night I left, I turned my back on everything Johnnie Walker Allen. From that day on, he ceased to exist. His memories were things I buried deep and told myself never to uncover. With those memories went Dade.
At first, because there was no time to worry about people back at home. I had only a handful of money and no way to get from one place to another. I was constantly scared and hungry. But those were things I was used to so I pressed on. Until I found myself asleep against the wall of a building one day only to be woken up by someone kicking my feet.
That person ended up being Breaker. And that day I started to be somebody again. I was Shooter. I was Breaker's best friend. I was his partner. I was a valuable asset. I wasn't an outcast or a place to hang anyone's pity anymore.
So my town, my memories, my old best friend... they fell away amongst everything else, everyone I replaced them with. That makes me sound like a selfish fuck, but Dade was right when he said if anyone deserved a new life, it was me. And I wasn't going to stand outside the diner all day feeling guilty about making that choice for myself. I did what I needed to do to survive, to move on, to get myself out of a shit situation. So I was going to stay on that course.
But I was also going to have a couple beers with my old best friend before I skipped town again.
I went back to the apartment after spending some time completing my dad's arrangements and driving around the old roads, racking my brain trying to figure out exactly how my father knew about my job. No one knew about my job except for close friends and other people in the business. Even if he did some snooping, I had no idea how he came upon that information.
I had spent the night before tearing my dad's place apart, looking for something I couldn't name, something incriminating, something to contradict the story that Amelia told me- that he was sober, that he was good to her, that he turned his life around. I tore through the closets. I looked for loose floorboards. I overturned furniture. In the end, I found nothing. There were no liquor bottles stashed anywhere, no nothing except the gun I had picked up and tucked into my jeans, never feeling right without having one on me.
I slept on the couch even though I had stripped and changed the bed, too uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the space with the ghost of my father. The AC was up and working after some good, old-fashioned manly pounding and swearing. It kicked back on, sweeping out the heat and making my mood slightly less irritable.
"Hey Mills," I greeted the cat as she rubbed herself around my legs, purring in greeting. "The fuck am I gonna do with you when I need to go back home? You wanna get out of this backwoods town?" I asked, reaching down to pick her up. "I'll take you if you promise not to scratch up all my shit," I said, moving in to the bathroom and turning the water on cold. I dropped Millie and stripped out of my clothes and hopped under the cold spray which managed two tasks at once- washing away the sweat from the insane fucking heat everyone else seemed to have no problem with, and helping ease the worst case of fucking blue balls I had ever had.
It wasn't that I'd never been rejected before. I liked to claim I was irresistible and my track record certainly backed that shit up, but I'd come across women who saw me coming from a mile away and shot me the fuck down without pause. I had wanted women that I couldn't have. But no one had made me as hard as Amelia managed to by spitting fire at me, by pricking me with her thorns, by giving me her rare small smile, her quiet laugh, by just fucking... existing.
So I reached down my body,
grabbing my cock and stroking hard, trying to ease some of the frustration that had my balls feeling like they had been in a vice grip all day.
Two days. It wasn't a long time. Well, I mean... it usually only took me a couple minutes, at worst... a couple hours. It wasn't the getting her into bed I saw as being a problem, it was the trying to pry myself back out of that bed and moving on. Which was totally new fucking territory for me. Sure, I'd had a few women here and there who needed a good repeat or two or five. But it was a superficial need, just bodies that connected well. That wasn't what I was feeling with Amelia. It felt like something more. It felt like I wanted to get in the bed with her and fuck until we were both nearly unconscious, then lie awake with her and talk about shit- our pasts, our presents, our futures.
I didn't just want to screw her.
I wanted to spend time with her.
I wanted to know more than the fine fibers of her bedsheets or the naked curve of her hip. I wanted to taste her, and not just the saltiness of her skin. I wanted to get an oral fix from the bittersweet flavor of her hopes and dreams. I wanted to get fucking drunk on her honesty. I wanted to touch the warm, wet rivers of her memories. I wanted to hear the bitter hum of her regrets. I wanted to know the scent of her happiness. Then I wanted to bury deep under her walls and wrap her up so tight that she never felt the need to have to protect herself ever again.
All of that, well, it wasn't going to happen in two days. It wasn't going to happen in two weeks or two months or two years.
But, somehow, I still wanted it.
I wanted it the way I knew I wanted to take my next breath; the way I wanted to share a joke with Breaker again; the way I wanted to tease Alex; the way I wanted to make amends with Dade.
I wanted it with a certainty that went beyond something casual.
And, well, that was the scariest fucking thing I had ever realized in my life.
Five
Amelia
I felt listless after lunch. I got back to my office and sat at my desk, shuffling through the forms I needed to fill out to keep receiving state funding for the program. You know, the forms that kept me employed. But I couldn't concentrate. I looked at the pages long enough for the words to start to swim and become unreadable. On a frustrated huff, I collected the papers and threw them into my top drawer, resting my elbows on the surface of my desk and cradling the sides of my head in my hands.
Killer Page 5
