by Lily White
The uncertainty in his voice had a calming effect on me. No longer feeling like I needed to rush to the finish line, I turned to stare out across the field, to lock eyes with each and every man seated in those crappy white chairs. A grin tilted my lips as my body leaned back against the truck.
It felt good to relax for just a moment, to take the time to allow the scene to sink in. I had the bastards right where I wanted them. It would have been foolish on my part not to enjoy just a few minutes of what I’d already done.
“Don’t know, Crow. I didn’t care much to check,” I answered back, my grin pulling wider to watch fear wrinkle his face. “However, on the off chance she did survive, I just wanted to make sure she sits tight until I decide what else I want to do to her.”
A stream of colorful expletives burst from his mouth. I laughed as I pushed up from the truck to walk around the bed. Lowering the tailgate, I took my time pulling one of the duffle bags in my direction, unzipping it and choosing which tool I wanted to use for the first order of business.
The image of JLK kept flashing in my mind. Rough and bloody, the letters had been carved just deep enough to leave a faint scar on Maggie’s skin for the rest of her life, but not deep enough to require stitches and alert her old man to the fact that her husband had mutilated her on their wedding night.
Curiosity flowed in to mingle with my anger, so I called out to the assholes who sat patiently waiting for me to make my first move.
“So, tell me: Was there a ceremony for the wedding you dumb fucks held last night?”
I glanced up as my hand wrapped over the wooden handle of a sledgehammer.
Lifting the heavy tool and resting it on my shoulder, I turned toward the men and slowly made my way over. When I was within ten feet of them, I stopped.
“Were there flowers or a cake? How about a preacher, or…I don’t know…a choice for her about who she would marry? Did you give her any of that, Jonah? Or did you just sell her off to the highest bidder?”
“I didn’t sell my daughter off. If you let me go, I’ll kill the bastard myself for what he did to her.”
Shaking my head, I laughed again. “Sorry, but I won’t be letting anybody go this evening. I have too many questions to ask and I won’t rest until every single one of them has been answered to my satisfaction.”
Jonah coughed, his head spinning to the left as blood burst over his lips. Once he was done, he turned back to look at me. “What do you plan on doing with that sledgehammer, son?”
I grinned. “I plan on making your daughter a widow.”
He simply nodded his head. My brows shot up in surprise. If I didn’t know he was a rapist and a murderer, I would have respected him for the lack of complaint.
Turning my back on the Crow family, I locked my gaze to the blond man. “J.L.K. What does it stand for?”
The fucker actually spit in my direction in response.
Pulling the sledgehammer from my shoulder, I balanced it between my hands, the weight of the head a balm to the violence that ran through me. “It doesn’t matter much,” I offered, “I have ways of getting the answer out of you.”
Three steps forward, my boot walked through the spit that he’d shot to the ground, and I was in perfect range for the first swing.
The sledgehammer swung sideways connecting with outside of the bastard’s right knee. The sound of bone snapping was barely audible when accompanied by the unholy scream that tore from the man’s throat. His knee was destroyed with that one hit, the bones sticking out grotesquely where the skin had been split and the cloth of his pants ripped open. Blood dripped down the legs of his trousers to mingle with the crimson puddle that had already formed beneath his ankle.
“Looks like you won’t be using that leg ever again. Any chance you want to tell me what those initials stand for now?”
He could barely look up at me, his face twisted in so much agony that his eyes were glued shut and his mouth was open on a soundless scream.
“Ah, come on now. That wasn’t so bad. I’ve seen worse injuries on the battlefield. But I guess it takes a soldier to grin and bear it. Not a weak little fuck that likes to take his anger and hatred out on women.”
Finally cracking his eyes open, he glared at me. “Jack. Luther. King. That’s what they stand for.”
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips. “That’s good to know, Jack. I like to know the names of the arrogant assholes I kill.”
Before he could react, the sledgehammer swung again, his left knee blown out just as wickedly as the right. Another scream tore through the night air and once it ended, I listened to find that all the creatures that normally sang had dispersed, most likely scared off by the threat of carnage and violence.
The night was so still and so quiet that only the crackling of the logs could be heard. Well, the crackling of the logs and the soft whimpers of a man crying over two busted legs.
“That had to hurt,” I commented without the slightest hint of sympathy in my voice. “But I bet it didn’t hurt worse than what Maggie felt when you raped her and carved your name into her skin. Probably didn’t hurt as bad as what you just did to this poor woman passed out in the dirt by the fire. At least your dignity is still intact, the pride you feel for being a virile man.”
His eyes shot up to mine.
“Allow me to take care of that for you.”
He was a smart man to close his eyes and brace for what was coming. As the sledgehammer rose up into the sky, his fingers wrapped over the weak armrests of the plastic chair, his jaw pulsing with how hard he clenched his teeth. I could have told him there was nothing he could do to prepare for what was coming, but I figured it would be better for him to learn that lesson on his own.
Jack wouldn’t be raping women anymore.
He wouldn’t be walking, and he wouldn’t be carving his initials into anything else.
What he would be doing is fertilizing the fields, his ashes mixing with the dirt to be returned to the Earth.
But first…he would be singing soprano for another few minutes before I removed the gift of agony to replace it with the blank void of a quick and final death.
Coming down with the force of the hammer’s weight, the sledgehammer slammed between the bastard’s legs. The scream that cut the air was so high I would have sworn he’d inhaled helium prior to having his manhood torn from his body. The chair wasn’t strong enough to support his weight any longer, not with the hole I’d knocked into the seat right in place of where his dick had once been.
A pile of broken plastic, broken bones, torn skin and a lifetime of regrets lay on the dirt in front of me. It would take one more swing to put him out of his misery, but I wasn’t a kind man. My kindness had leached completely out of me fourteen years prior.
Savoring the way he continued to cry, I dropped the head of the sledgehammer into the dirt, and balanced my weight with one hand on the handle. Spinning around, I searched the expressions of the Crow men. It was easy to figure out what each and every one of them was thinking.
“Now that I got our buddy, Jack, out of the way, I think it’s time we all have a friendly chat.”
I didn’t hear anything when I first pried open my eyes to find myself face down on the leather bench seat of a truck. At first, I wasn’t quite sure how I’d ended up splayed over supple leather, the carvings on my ass on fire against the cold air that was pervasive in the interior of the vehicle despite the shut doors and sealed windows.
It took me a few minutes to gather my senses together enough to realize that between one minute and the next, I’d been up against the side of Elliot’s truck putting on a decent show of screaming and then waking up to a sickening silence hidden behind windows steamed up by my breathing.
How long had I been in here, and how had I passed out?
I remembered Elliot’s arm wrapping around my neck. I remembered the fear I felt when I couldn’t breathe and it felt like all the blood in my body was trapped in my face, the skin so ti
ght I swore that the blood would burst through taking my eyes with it.
But I was still alive and in one piece, so I could only assume he’d choked me out just long enough to gain complete control of me.
Pushing up from the seat, I hissed when the skin of my behind met the cold leather. I wasn’t sure where my panties were, but I wasn’t too concerned with their absence. Tucking the skirt of my dress beneath me, I stared out the windshield to see a quiet, dark night in the distance.
From the corner of my left eye, I noticed the dance of shadow and light from the bonfire that still blazed in the middle of the field by the house. Instinct had me reaching for the door handle, tugging on it with as much strength I could manage only to find that the door was jammed tight.
I should have left the cloudy mist that concealed the view out into the exterior. I should have left well enough alone and sat in my place waiting to see when Elliot returned to cart me off to my next destination.
However, regardless of what I should have done, my hand reached up to wipe away the fog from the glass, my eyes opening wide when I watched the scene that was playing out in front of me.
Muted within the interior of the vehicle, a scream rattled the truck and the trees around me. Fear crept into my heart to think it was my Daddy crying out with the pain of a man split in two, but when I peered out to identify the pile on the ground at Elliot’s feet, I saw that it was Jack laying in the dirt, broken and useless. His legs were unmoving and bent out of shape, blood a black puddle beneath him that looked like oil bubbling up out of the ground. His hands were held tight between his legs and that same crimson mess covered the skin of his fingers.
Elliot stood tall over a man that was most likely wishing for death. It had to be better than the agony he was feeling.
In Elliot’s hand was a sledgehammer he’d used to tear apart the man who called me his wife for only one night.
Dropping the head of the sledgehammer to the ground, Elliot grinned like a tomcat in the middle of a group of felines in heat. His face was proud, his body relaxed, and his feet set apart like a man preparing himself for battle. With one hand balanced on the handle of the sledgehammer, he turned to face my family where they were still strapped to their chairs.
I couldn’t hear what any of the men were saying, but judging by the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a friendly conversation that were having.
Like a hammer against my skull, a headache pounded mercilessly behind my eyes. But the pain was nothing compared to the panic I felt the minute I saw Elliot take a step towards my father.
Their mouths were moving, but I couldn’t make out a damn word they were saying. I tried to read their lips, but for all I knew they were exchanging recipes. It didn’t help when Finn chimed in with whatever dumbshit remark he decided would be a good idea. Elliot’s fist connected with his face in response.
I’d be a liar to claim I didn’t smile to see Finn spit out a tooth along with the blood that was filling his mouth.
That small reprieve was lost when my father blurted out his opinions once again and Elliot’s focus returned to a man who was way too sick to take a hit.
I had to do something.
Reaching down, I felt a lump in the skirt of my dress and thanked the heavens once again for small favors. I wasn’t sure how I would knock Elliot out with the drugs I still had on me, but without time to formulate a decent plan, I had to go with my gut instinct.
Pulling out one of the two syringes I still had on me, I inserted the needle in the top of the vial and pulled the plunger down until the syringe was filled to the number two. Elliot prevented me from pricking him before, but if I had another syringe ready, I might have still had the chance to stick him with it while he was focused on the other. Plan made, I filled the second syringe with the same amount of the drug and sent up another silent prayer that it would work.
The only thing I could do now was attempt to get him over to the car and away from my father.
Turning towards the driver’s side door, I banged my fists against the window and shouted as loud as I could. My throat was already torn to shreds from all the other times I’d screamed that night, but desperation and adrenaline were fueling me.
Within seconds, I realized that screaming my head off hadn’t done a lick of good because the shouting men couldn’t hear me over their own voices.
Still desperate to break up the fight that was occurring at the bonfire, I darted a glance around the interior of the truck searching for anything that I could use to bust myself out. There was nothing lying around that would help me break a window, so I pulled open the glove box hopeful there would be something inside.
After pulling it open, I realized that Elliot was nothing like the men who raised me. Instead of a gun, errant tools, or some other heavy instrument hidden beneath old receipts, food wrappers and whatever else my family typically shoved into the crevices of a car, there was only a leather bound case with neatly arranged papers inside. I knew damn well that Elliot’s registration and insurance information wasn’t going to do me any good and I tossed the book back in with a huff of frustration blowing over my lips.
Angry at the circumstances that prevented me from saving my family and Elliot, I banged my hands on the steering wheel, a small beep sounding from the hood.
The horn!
At a later time, I’d chide myself for having been so stupid, but there wasn’t time now to wonder why I hadn’t tried the horn in the first place.
Fists banging down, I blared the horn, my head turning to the left to see that it finally caught their attention. As soon as Elliot’s eyes were focused on the truck, I banged on his window again and started screaming. His eyes darted between my family and me, indecision obvious in his expression. Dialing it up a notch, I laid on my back and began kicking the window.
It only took him a minute to approach the truck, his face peering in the window with a red haze of anger coloring his cheeks.
I sat up as his hand fidgeted with the door. Pulling it open, he allowed a draft of cold air to filter in before he opened his mouth to scream at me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Maggie? If your foot had gone through that window –“
My hand flew out to plunge the first needle into his neck. He caught it like I knew he would. A burst of pain shot through the bones of my wrist and up my arm, but I ignored it to swing out with my other hand, jam the needle in his neck and depress the plunger before he realized what I was doing.
He stumbled back as he reached up to pull the needle from his neck, the look of betrayal on his face causing my heart to shatter in my chest. I never wanted to hurt him. Never wanted to be the cause of any pain in his life. But he’d left me with no other option.
Praying that I hadn’t used too much of the drug, I crept forward as his gaze grew hazy and he sank to his knees fighting whatever effects the drug had on him. When I thought he’d fall asleep and slump to the ground, he surprised me by shooting back to his feet instead. Charging towards the truck, he attempted to grab me, but I slipped back along the bench seat kicking out at his head, his shoulders and his chest. My feet didn’t deter him.
Within seconds, Elliot had climbed inside, his eyes narrowed in anger, and for a brief moment I thought he would kill me for what I’d done.
I guess the universe and God himself were smiling down on me that night, because just as Elliot wrapped his large hand over my neck and began to squeeze, his eyelids grew heavy and the weight of his body sank down on top of mine.
Shaking him just to see if he’d wake up, I became scared when he didn’t react. My hands roamed over his body until sneaking up to the pulse point in his neck. The frantic beat of my heart slowed down to find that I hadn’t killed him with the drugs I’d forced in his body.
From outside the car, my father yelled my name, his voice strong despite the grittiness. I hated that he’d been screaming all night beside the smoke of a raging fire, but I didn’t have time to worry about his lungs wh
en Elliot was a far more immediate danger.
Not knowing how long Elliot would remain knocked out, I had to work to free myself of his large body. Eventually settling him on the bench seat, I crawled over the top of him and jumped out of the truck.
“Maggie! Get over here, girl, and untie us. You did good, baby girl! Real good. Now just free us so we can take over!”
His words stopped me in my tracks, the grim realization that they would kill Elliot if I freed them from their bonds. I didn’t want anybody to die tonight – except for Jack – so I stared out across the field trying to determine what I should do next.
If only there were a way to free my father but prevent him from getting to Elliot. And then it hit me, the perfect plan for what I would do.
Spinning in place, my eyes searched the ground beneath the truck. I dropped to my hands and knees to see better in the dark, cursing under my breath when I couldn’t find what I was looking for. Crouching down even lower, I was practically lying on my belly as my arms reached beneath the truck. Just when I thought I wouldn’t find the unused syringe, it brushed against my fingers, just out of reach. Crawling forward, I stuck my head beneath the truck giving me just enough room to wrap my hand over the syringe.
After crawling back out, I stood up on shaky legs and took a second to wipe the dirt and dust from my clothing. I was a hell of a mess already and there was no point trying to knock the dirt away, but habits were hard to kill even in moments where time was running out.
Turning back towards my family, I made quick work of the distance between us, and I fell to my knees when I reached my father’s chair. My hand shot up to cup his face, my eyes scanning his body to make sure I hadn’t been too late. He didn’t look injured as far as I could tell and a relieved breath rattled out of me.
“Daddy? Did he do anything to you?”
He didn’t respond to the question I asked, his lips pulled into a tight line as he demanded I untie him. Brody and Finn were screaming to be released as well, but I didn’t pay them any attention. I wasn’t concerned about their lives in the slightest, and on some level I wished they’d met the same fate as Jack.
