by Bijou Hunter
“She cry when you fuck her? She scared of you?”
“She thinks I’m her hero.”
“Then, you have to be her damn hero. What’s the problem?”
“A hero saves. Me taking her into my world and keeping her doesn’t seem like saving.”
“She’s not just some girl off the street. She’s all fucked up like you. Two losers in love. I like it.”
“I don’t want to do wrong by her, but I also want to keep her.”
“Then keep her.”
“That simple, huh?”
“You’re still young, Gator. You think life has some great meaning and God cares and all those young people lies. I’m old enough to know that you get only so much time to be happy. If you ask me, this girl is your sign. You’ve been wanting to go away to your paradise for years, but never do it. Now, you have someone to play house with and I think you were just afraid to go alone. I know you hate the city, but you don’t want to be alone again like in the swamp. It’s why I live here with these stupid people. I like the noise. Keeps me from thinking I’m back in Georgia. That’s my hell and I ain’t going back.”
“I need to kill Carz.”
“No doubt. Just get paid first. No reason to kill all these people for free. He wants them dead then he needs to pay. Soon as he does, you kill him for your woman. That’s the thing about playing with fire. You’re bound to get burned. Carz is a joke, thinking he is a big man with his fancy cars and big titty whores, but he don’t know scary until he meets men like us. You kill him slow too, Gator. I don’t like the fucker, but I don’t want to drive to his place and do the job myself. Kill him for me and your woman. Make the world a better place.”
After an hour of bullshitting about jobs and women, I leave Flame’s place. Every chick we mentioned made me miss Mia. She was sitting alone at the hotel missing me. I knew she was because that was how she worked.
Instead of returning to the hotel right away, I stop at Toys R Us for that gift my woman needs. I find a kid’s tablet, so she can learn to read. It’s something for elementary school kids, but a hell of a lot nicer than how I learned shit.
I have it wrapped for Mia. Seems like a lot of work for little payoff, but I think of her as a kid and doubt she got many gifts over the years. My suspicions are proven correct when she sees the present and stares at it.
“You going to open it?” I ask when she only runs her fingers over the wrapping.
Mia stares into my eyes and my bravado is gone. Afraid to rush a moment she so rarely enjoyed, she’s scared to open the gift. I run my fingers along the bow and allow myself to be young again. Thinking like a boy, I understand why she is reluctant to pull back the wrapping and see what’s inside.
“You can keep the wrapping,” I whisper.
Mia holds my gaze and nods. Her fingers delicately pull at the tapped edges, tugging just enough to open without tearing. Soon, she stares at the learning tablet.
“I figured if it helps little kids learn to read, it’ll help you. Little kids are stupid and you’re not.”
Mia’s gaze lifts to mine and I see sadness, instead of joy. She steps around the table and walks to me.
“I have nothing to give you,” Mia whimpers. “I can’t give you a gift. I can’t give you anything.”
“You want to give me something?”
She nods. Her eyes remain sad, yet dry.
“I want to kiss you,” I say and her hands instantly reach for me, but I dodge her touch. “I can’t have you touch me. Not if I want to control myself. Do you understand?”
Mia shows no sign of understanding. Yet, after a minute, her hands hide behind her back and her lips lift up towards me.
I can barely control myself. My hands shake as I cup her soft face. I struggle to ensure my lips are careful. Mia acts like less of a professional whore than a hungry and clumsy virgin. When her lips meet mine, the kiss starts slowly and I fight the urge to take her to bed. I want to open her up and feel inside her. I need her under me, but I only kiss her. Before I stop, I lick at her plump bruised lips. She sighs at this and smiles as I step back.
Hands in fists, I want more. My cock is so hard it’s painful. Mia stands before me, beautiful and willing, but I don’t take her. I grind my fists into the sides of my head and calm the fuck down before I do what I can’t undo.
By the time I’m under control, Mia is focused on her gift and the sadness in her eyes return.
“You are my gift,” I whisper, scratching at my scarred arms to avoid taking her in them. “I don’t need a trinket in a pretty box. I have you.”
Mia smiles, yet her eyes remain lost. She needs more from me and I restrain my needs.
Stepping closer, I hover over her and she seems to think we’ll kiss again. I see a smile on her lips even if her eyes show no happiness. Instead of touching her lips with mine, I lean my forehead against hers and look into those baby blues.
“When I first got to New Orleans, I was overwhelmed. All I wanted to do was eat. There were so many restaurants and the food was so good. I didn’t have to hunt and cook it. I could sit there and be served amazing food and I ate until I could barely breathe. I couldn’t stop myself because I never knew this kind of world growing up.”
Mia places a hand on my chest and sighs. “I love my present.”
“You’re overwhelmed. You had nothing for so long and now it’s too much. I promise it gets easier. I didn’t eat myself to death, did I?”
Mia smiles wider and her eyes brighten. I suspect she pictures me as a fat man dying from too much seafood and barbecue. Laughing, she kisses me softly on the cheek then looks back at the gift.
“I’m going to learn to read,” she says like I’m offering her the world.
“When you get stronger,” I mutter, staring hard out of the window, “I’ll let you go if you want. If you want a different life, I won’t keep you with me.”
I know I’m lying. These are the words of a man at the beginning of a relationship. I can say them because she doesn’t want to leave me. I’m her hero. One day, she might think differently and I won’t be the same man. It’s a lie to believe I won’t force her to stay.
Mia joins me at the window and smiles. “You look funny.”
“I’m pissed.”
Her smile fades. “I upset you.”
“I hate lying to you. I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you with me whether you want to stay or not. I’m too selfish to give up what I want.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, arching an eyebrow that she immediately runs a finger over.
“I want you to keep me.”
“You might change your mind.”
“No,” she says like I’m being stupid.
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you go.”
“If I was stronger than you, I wouldn’t let you go either. I’d tie you up and keep you.”
I laugh and she follows my lead. Even unsure if what I feel is love or simple obsession, I’m relieved she wants to stay. I know she likes her gift and wants to play with it. Mia aches to learn, but she stays close to me while I brood on the balcony. I hate the city, but it feels bigger when she’s next to me. As if her eyes are the doorways to a place with boundless freedom.
13 Spent Shells
Gator
Hunting for my next target, I take Mia along for the ride. I try to think of her as my assistant, but I don’t tell her where we’re going, who we’re hunting, and I certainly don’t have her carry my crap like I did with Grim.
Even knowing Mia shouldn’t be on my surveillance trip, I need her close. My patience for city life is limited lately. I want to kill these fucks fast and get out of town. I’m losing my focus, but Mia calms the noise in my head and the hate in my belly.
While I watch the bar my target frequents, a frowning Mia works on her tablet in the passenger seat. She finally looks at me like she might cry. I glance at the tablet then back at her. Mia doesn’t cry, only sighs and pulls off
the headphones.
I want to touch her, yet keep my hands safely on the wheel. “Little kids take years to learn to read. You can’t expect to know how after a few hours.”
“I’m not a little kid.”
“I guess,” I mutter, still wondering if I’m falling for a child in the shell of a woman.
Mia stares at me wide-eyed and smiles brighter than I’ve seen her smile before.
“You think that’s funny?” I ask, grumpy despite her smile.
I know it’s coming, but the sound of her laughter startles me. She bursts into giggles and sets the tablet on the car floor. Turning around on her knees, Mia looks at me and laughs harder.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, wanting to be angry. She’s getting on my nerves, but she’s also laughing in the most perfect way. I fight a smile, instead glaring at her. This causes Mia to laugh harder until she snorts. Finally, I laugh too because she’s nearly crying from laughing so hard.
“You look funny when you get angry,” she says, caressing my face.
Instantly, my laughter ends and I nearly pull her into my lap. Mia ignores the way I grip the steering wheel as she rubs her lips along the scar at my jaw. I don’t even remember how I got that one. Probably hunting for food back in the swamp.
Closing my eyes, I let her touch me while my hands remain locked to the steering wheel. She lacks any seduction to her movements. Only curiosity and tenderness. I’ve never had a woman touch me with such care.
When I open my eyes, she’s studying my face while holding it in her hands.
“You’re afraid to hurt me,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“I’m strong enough to give whatever you need to take.”
I study her clear eyes and feel the rage boiling up inside me. Grabbing her jaw, I startle her, but not much. She’s used to rough handling by men.
“You think it doesn’t matter if I hurt you, right?” I growl. “You think you already got cleaned up and I bought you that reading toy and everything is fucking fine, so I can treat you like shit. You think you don’t deserve as much as you got and you should be happy with anything. Is that what you think?”
Mia says nothing. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I assume the worst. I assume she agrees with my words and my rage grows.
“When I got to New Orleans, I was a half breed swamp rat who could barely write his own name. I was the son of a murderer and his victim. I could have been happy to wipe asses and kiss feet. I could have bowed to others and begged for scrapes. I didn’t do that shit because I’m not what my parents made me. I’m what I decide I want to be.”
Mia’s gaze softens and she studies my face. I know she’s going to touch me and I’m right. Her fingers linger over my tight lips and they relax under her touch.
“You are special,” she whispers in my ear and I wrap her in my arms. “You are everything.”
“You see me the way I want to be seen. You need to see yourself the way I see you. Don’t settle. Want it all.”
“I want you,” she says so softly I barely hear her.
“Want more.”
“I want to stay with you forever.”
I let one hand slide across her tit, cupping it gently. The nipple hardens under my touch, but I just hold her and do no more.
As she relaxes against me, I think about forever. “Why would anyone move here?” I ask, watching the bar while she leans her head against my chest. “I saw someone moving into an apartment and thought why? A big ass world to choose from and they want to be here.”
“People are different. Some are stupid. Some are you.”
Grinning against her soft hair, I realize she’s not so clueless. One day, her pale skin will be bronze from the sun. Her mind will be full of knowledge Rodent never allowed her to have. Her body will be stronger and maybe even filled with my child.
When I imagine us on the beach, the ocean steals away all of the ugliness of our past. We can find peace if I finish this job and get out of the city. A part of me knows I could just leave, but walking away from an assignment feels cowardly and I refuse to fear anything.
14 Spent Shells
Gator
My target never shows, so I take Mia out for dinner before returning to the hotel. Finding something loud and stupid on the TV, I hope for time to relax. My mind can’t stop thinking about the feel of her tit in my hand. I want to touch her now, but I don’t know what will make fucking her special. I’m still waiting for something.
Mia isn’t watching television. She’s watching me and I like her gaze focused on only me. Even while I pretend to care about the Stallone movie, I savor her attention. Finally, I peek at Mia.
“What?”
“What was your mom and dad?”
Lifting an eyebrow, I study her. “Shifty fucks. Why?”
Mia looks around like the answer to her confusion is on the walls.
“What did you mean?” I ask when she remains confused.
Sitting on her knees, Mia runs her fingers against my forearm. “You aren’t like me. White, I mean. My mom and Rodent were white. You’re something else.”
“Does that bother you?”
Behind the confusion, her expression holds a hint of irritation. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Damn. How does she possess the power to turn me inside out with a single compliment? Am I a blushing bitch now? A virgin batting his eyes at the pretty girl?
Without responding to her question, I cup her face and she immediately leans into my touch. Those blue eyes close halfway and she exhales softly.
A minute or ten pass as I hold her face, caressing her cheek with my thumb. I relax into the warmth she shows me in those eyes.
“My mother was Hawaiian and Mexican. Dad was a pale as shit fuck Irishman.”
Mia stares at me, unbothered by how I’ve stopped touching her. “Your mom is dead?”
“My dad killed her. She wanted to leave the swamp, so he killed her and fed her to the gators that lived nearby.”
Shrinking away, Mia again looks for the answers to her problems on the walls. She scoots closer and places her hand on mine.
“I’m sorry your dad was a bad man like Rodent.”
“He was an accountant,” I say, smiling despite my hatred for the man. “Worked for the Irish mob in Jersey and skimmed money for years until he had enough to run. The thing about the mob is they can’t let you run. They have to hunt you down and kill you. It’s the big dog thing. If a powerful person lets a smaller person beat them down or make them the sap, no one will respect the big dog anymore. So my dad ran and ran until he ended up hiding in a shithole in the swamps of Louisiana. He gave up a nice life for a better life and ended up worse off. That was the fucker in a nutshell.”
“What’s a swamp like?”
“Dirty, hot, and dirty some more. We had no TV and electricity came and went. Dad was sitting on millions, but he couldn’t use it. He had to hide or die. All that money sat in a duffle bag and he only used enough to keep him alive. Most of it was still there when I killed him.”
“Because he killed your mom?”
The past is so ugly, but Mia’s gaze proves beauty exists. Studying her soft expression, I find the strength to talk about a time I wish I could forget.
“Yeah, but not right away. He hooked up with a new girl. Linda was a trailer trash slut and cried too much. Dad wasn’t such a smart guy and he was meaner than anyone I ever met until your fucking rodent father. He was good looking though and lied really nice. Young women fell for his shit a lot and they ended up in that swamp. Eventually, they ended up as gator food like my mom.”
Mia’s hand remains on mine and I decide to keep talking. “I was sixteen when I went hunting for something to eat. Little animals, fish, whatever I could find. Dad was in a bitchy little mood because he’d gotten rid of Linda and was lonely or something. I didn’t care about him by then. I hadn’t cared for a while. I kept my head down and took care of myself. That day, I found a shred
of Linda’s shirt hanging from a gator’s mouth. It was vegging in the heat and I imagined my mother’s shirt hanging from its mouth. I wasn’t really angry. I know that sounds like bullshit. Like I wanted vengeance, but I didn’t. I just decided that was the day I rid the world of Dougie James. I can tell you the world didn’t miss him in the least after I snapped his neck and tossed him into the swamp for the gators.”
Mia’s fair blue eyes watch my face then she nods. “It’s good you killed him.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking her hand in mine and noticing for the first time the little scars on her palm. “After I was done with his body, I dug out the bag of money, took the only picture of my mom I had, and left the swamp. Ended up in a nearby town then in New Orleans where I found work. I could have lived off the money, but I wanted to do something. I tried roofing and fixing cars. Didn’t have a taste for that shit, so I ended up killing. Turned out, I had not only a taste for the work, but a talent too. It’s not as easy as it looks to kill people. You need to be quiet, patient, and know when to go in soft and when to burn the place to the ground. A lot of guys never figure that shit out and end up dead or in jail. I’ve been doing this over ten years without a problem.”
With her free hand, Mia caresses the scar running from my eyebrow to mid-cheek. Her fingers are cool against my skin and I feel my need for her intensify. How long before I lose control and simply take what I want?
“Is this from your job?” she asks, scooting closer.
“My dad in a bad mood.”
“It’s good you killed him,” she says again and I sense anger in her words.
Even worrying over her answer, I ask the question. “Is your mother alive? Do you want to find her?”
Mia backs off and her fingers slip out of my hand. “No, Rodent said she was dead. If she’s not, I don’t care. I hate her.”
“Why? Did Rodent tell you something about her to make you hate her?” I ask, wondering if he stole her away from a good life.
