TAKE ME, OUTLAW: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance

by Zoey Parker

  “Not true,” Bard said. He slowly reached into the front pocket of his denim vest and yanked out an identical memory stick. It was one of the ones Sperm had bought.

  “Did you really think once we had the stick, we wouldn't copy it?” Bard asked. Sperm reached into his own vest pocket, producing another stick. I pulled another from my vest too.

  “We've got five more Reapers with these sticks riding around the city right now, waiting to hear from us that the deal went down,” Bard continued. “If they don't get a coded text in the next five minutes, one of them will go to each of the five major crime families and hand the lists over. So stop playing tough and smarten up, before you and every other Thorn ends up as mulch in some godfather's rose garden.”

  Angelo and Richie were starting to look uneasy. “Hey, Jester, uh, maybe we should hear them out,” Angelo said. “I mean, just 'cause you've got some personal beef with this Rafe guy, it don't mean the rest of the Thorns gotta go down with you. I'm pretty sure they'd back me up on that if they was here.”

  “First of all, they're not here and I outrank you clowns, which means you do as I say,” Jester snapped. “Second, you have nothing to worry about. Bardie Boy is bluffing. That memory stick was code-protected against copying. There's no way they could have done what they said they did.”

  “You seem to forget I was in Delta in Iraq,” Bard said.

  “Oh, yes, God forbid any of us forget that little tidbit about you, G.I. Jerkoff,” Jester sneered. “I'm sure it drops plenty of panties at parties, but the rest of us aren't impressed.”

  “Then you should know,” Bard continued smoothly, “that while I was there, I worked with the NSA and COINTELPRO. I've seen stronger anti-copy codes in camel droppings. Dismantling yours took all of thirty seconds.”

  “Jester,” Richie said warningly, “I don't like this. I really, really think we need to back off a little, call the other Thorns, see if we can maybe tone this whole thing down just a bit...”

  Jester eyed the three of us warily. Judging. Deciding.

  “Hey, Jester, I get that you're in a bind, man,” Angelo pleaded, “but if they're not lying, then the clock is fucking ticking, okay? Please, I'm begging you, be reasonable. Err on the side of caution, here. Let's work this out.”

  “No,” Jester spat, glaring at us. “No, I don't think reasonable is gonna be on the menu tonight. I think instead we'll be serving up gruesome revenge drizzled with blood, with a side of violation and fucking armageddon for dessert. I think Bard's more full of shit than an assless elephant, and those memory sticks they're carrying are even emptier than their heads.

  “Incidentally,” he said to us, “all three of you will want to take those guns from the backs of your trousers and drop them on the deck before Richie pulls the trigger and turns your girlfriend's spine into abstract art. The negotiations are over.”

  My eyes flicked over to the bald flunky behind Jewel. I could see he had a mini-Uzi pressed against her back, and I knew that once he'd drilled her, it would only take him seconds to turn the machine gun on us. Our three pistols versus his Uzi and whatever else Jester and Angelo were carrying could turn very messy for us.

  Bard sighed and dropped his memory stick on the deck, followed by his gun. Sperm and I did the same. We thought we'd been clever, but Jester had seen through our bluff.

  At that moment, my only source of relief was the fact that Jester was a sick fuck who wanted to keep us alive just a little longer. Good. It could give us the chance we needed to escape.

  That, and the one final surprise we'd prepared in case everything else went to shit.

  I just hoped we could hang on long enough to use it.

  “Okay, fine, you've got me,” I said. “Now let everyone else go. This isn't about any of them. It's between us.”

  “No, it was between us,” Jester corrected. “Then you went crying to your gang of grease monkeys for help and went around playing White Knight with some tart. They're plenty involved now, and everything that happens to them from this point forward is on your head. I think it's important that you treasure that thought in the hours to come.”

  My rage boiled over and I couldn't control myself any longer. I lunged for Jewel and Richie, hoping to somehow shove her over the side of the gangway, buy Bard and Sperm time to reach for their guns, and maybe get my teeth around Jester's throat before the shooting started. It was more of an excuse than a plan and I knew it, but I didn't fucking care. I needed to end this before Jester could say one more word about hurting Jewel.

  Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. Richie acted on instinct, releasing his grip on Jewel and raising his Uzi. Angelo stepped in, grabbing Jewel with both arms before she could slump to the side and into the water. Jester reached into his jacket to grab his own gun.

  I was too close for Richie to get his bearings and aim the gun, so he swung it upward wildly, as though trying to shoo away a fly. The metal muzzle connected with the side of my face and pain flared through my skull like wildfire. I felt the world spin around me again before some invisible force reached in and snatched it all away, like a magician yanking a tablecloth, and everything went black.

  Chapter 39

  Jewel

  The fog in my head was just starting to clear a little bit.

  I heard Rafe call the red-haired man Jester, which seemed to make sense. Somehow, now that I was this close to Jester and could see his real face, he seemed even scarier than the leering mask in my dreams.

  He and Bard had said a lot to each other, and the words had seemed very important, even though I hadn't been able to understand any of them. Then Rafe, Bard, and Sperm had all dropped their guns.

  My thoughts seemed like they were floating up slowly from the bottom of a deep pool, accompanied by a sense of dread. Why had they dropped their guns? How were they going to save me now?

  That was when Rafe charged forward like a bull, and got hit in the head by the gun of the man behind me. I winced inwardly.

  Shouldn't have done that, I thought. Shouldn't hit a person in the head when they're getting over a concussion. That's not right.

  As I watched Rafe fall over and the other two Reapers dive for their guns, I could feel my mind awkwardly starting and stopping, trying to get back on track. I knew I had to think of some way to free myself, to get out of the way so Bard and Sperm could fire back without having to worry about me. I needed to be lower, but Angelo had his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides so I couldn't move.

  Except for my legs.

  I summoned all of my strength and focus into my right leg and drove it down hard, mashing Angelo's foot with my own. Through the thin leather of his Italian shoes, I could feel a couple of bones break. He squealed with pain, and his grip on me loosened. I followed my own weight down, sinking to the gangway and trying to make myself as small a target as possible.

  Bard and Sperm picked up their guns and fired. Most of their shots missed, and I knew that it was probably because they didn't have time to properly look down the sights on the barrels of their guns.

  Rafe taught me that, I thought. I looked over at his prone body and saw that blood was leaking from his nose. I prayed that the smack from the gun hadn't damaged his brain.

  Angelo was crouched down and reaching for me, trying to get his arms around me again. Jester had a pistol with a silencer on it, and was returning fire. Richie leveled his machine gun at the Reapers, but one of Bard's bullets went through Richie's shoulder and he dropped the gun. I reached for it, but my numbed fingers misjudged the distance and it went over the edge, splashing down in the lake.

  I saw a bullet from Jester's gun hit Sperm in the mouth. Blood, bones, and teeth blasted out the back of his skull and he fell to the ground, dead. Every drop of blood in my body froze, and I fought the urge to vomit even as Angelo pinned me to the gangway. Sperm had been so nice to me, and now he was dead.

  Jester fired again and the shot hit Bard just below the throat. Bard lowered his gun, t
ook a step back, and touched the freshly-bleeding wound lightly before gently sinking to the deck. The expression on his face looked almost thoughtful.

  There was a strange stillness as the echoes of the gunshots faded. Then Jester turned to Angelo and Richie, baring his teeth in a disgusted grimace. “You cretins!” he yelled. “I wanted Rafe conscious! I think everything I had just finished saying made this point fairly clear. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Hey, uh, maybe we need to get out of here,” Richie stammered. “People probably reported those gunshots, an' I got priors.”

  “Oh, grow a pair, nimrod,” Jester jeered. “It's the Fourth of July. People have been setting off fireworks all day, all over the city. You could put your gun next to one of these assholes' heads and pull the trigger until it goes click, and they'd swear it was just fireworks. Now get Rafe and his little fuck-puppet inside the cabin. Tie her up, and keep the gun on him until he wakes up. I've got one last bit of business to finish up out here.”

  Richie hauled Rafe and Angelo dragged me toward the cabin, limping. I tried to fight him off, but I'd spent all of my energy stomping on Angelo's foot, and all of my limbs felt like they had lead weights tied to them. All I could do was move my head to the side and watch as Jester crouched over Bard, putting the gun to his forehead.

  “Any last words, Bard-a-roonie?” Jester lilted.

  Bard drew a breath in, blood glistening on his lips as they moved. “Mors certa est, vita non est.”

  “Oh? And what's that supposed to mean, you pretentious shitbird?” Jester asked.

  Bard chuckled, speaking between wet gasps. “It...means...eat shit and die, you worthless, cocksucking fucking circus animal.” And with that, his head slumped back and he exhaled his last breath.

  Before Angelo pulled me into the cabin, I saw Jester firing silenced bullets into Bard's dead body and laughing like a maniac.

  Chapter 40

  Rafe

  “Wake up, Rafe, you cockroach. Just ten more minutes until the fireworks start.”

  I heard Jester's voice as he whispered into my ear. Every word felt like a bullet fired into my brain, and when I opened my eyes, everything seemed so bright I could barely stand it. Reality seemed to twitching and quivering around me, and it took me a moment to realize that I'd been knocked unconscious. My concussion had come back, and it was charging me some serious interest.

  I licked my lips and winced at the bitter taste of dried blood there. My nose had been bleeding, and when it came to brain injuries, even I knew that wasn't a good sign.

  I was sitting in an upholstered seat in the cabin of the yacht. Jewel was in the seat across from me, still looking stunned. Angelo was holding her hands behind her back. Behind them, the walls of the cabin were tinted glass and I could see a panoramic view of the lake. The sun had just gone down and the horizon was a thin line of blood red as darkness started to spread across the sky.

  Based on the view, it seemed like the yacht had pulled away from the dock and was sitting out in the lake where the view would be best. A digital countdown clock was being projected onto the windows, the red digits counting down from 9 minutes 24 seconds.

  Jester stood between me and Jewel. His gold ring glinted in the muted light of the cabin's lamps. He had a silenced pistol in one hand and a straight razor in the other. They had matching pearl handles.

  “Oh, do you like them?” Jester asked, seeing my eyes on his weapons. “They're part of a set. I used to have a matching icepick too, but I left it up some bitch's snatch. You know how it is.”

  I struggled to sit up, and realized my hands were being held behind me, too. I looked up and saw Richie grinning down at me. His shirt was off and he had a bloody bandage on one shoulder. “Hi, pal,” he sneered. “Want an aspirin?”

  “Get fucked, baldy,” I slurred. “An' unless you're 'bout to propose, quit holdin' my fuckin' hand.”

  “Oh, I think a little hand-holding would be good for all of us right now,” Jester said cheerfully. “It's a holiday, we've all had a very stressful few days, and I think the closeness would do us a world of good. Besides, we have so much to celebrate! I've got my memory stick back, I'll finally get the sweet revenge I've been dreaming about for seven long years—and best of all, you and your girlfriend here will get to spend the rest of your lives together! Short lives, granted, but still, I think all's well that ends well, as your Shakespeare-quoting president would probably say. If he were still alive, that is.”

  The words cut through my skull like an axe. I couldn't believe Bard was dead. And it was all my fault. Just like Jewel being here was my fault. I should have kept the Reapers out of all this. I should have just let Jewel run off to the cops after I'd gotten the information I needed from her. I should have fucking died in prison and everyone would have been better off.

  “We've got some time to kill before the big light show,” Jester said, “so I'm game for some entertainment. Hey, how 'bout a puppet show? Would you like that?”

  “Blow me, you pathetic freak,” I snarled. My words sounded wet, and I realized my nose was starting to bleed again.

  “Oh, there'll be plenty of nookie later, sugar plum, don't worry,” Jester laughed. “But first...”

  Jester bounded over to a couch next to the chairs, ducking behind it. I heard some light struggling sounds and my eyes flicked over to Jewel's. It looked like she was starting to come out of whatever stupor she'd been in, and she looked scared to death. She was sweating and trembling, and her eyes were silently begging me to get us out of this.

  I don't know how, baby, I thought. I'm so very sorry. All this way, all these risks, and all for nothing. You deserved better than that.

  I felt my blood burning again. This rage, Jesus, it was like nothing I'd ever fucking felt before. It was like a thousand atomic explosions in my brain—poisoning the soil there with a radiation of hate that wouldn't bake off for a thousand years, so that everything that grew there afterward would come up twisted and ugly.

  Bard's head popped up from behind the couch. His skin was pale, his eyes dead and staring. Jester bobbed him up and down from below, causing his mouth to flop open and closed obscenely.

  “You know, Bard's lips are still feeling nice and supple. Maybe I should have a little fun with him before rigor mortis sets in, what do you think? I can have Richie here video the whole thing, and then send it to the rest of your Reaper morons. If there are any left, I mean. I heard my fellow Thorns did a pretty thorough job on the ol' Nest earlier when they came to collect Jewel.” He mimed spraying the room with a machine gun, making a “Brrrrt-brrrrt-brrrret!” noise.

  The explosions in my brain kept thundering and roaring, relentless, scorching, apocalyptic. More Reapers dead. And all because of Jester. All because of his stupid, stubborn, useless grudge over something that had never even happened. All because of the dumb decisions I'd made afterward.

  My need for revenge had been nothing compared to what I felt now.

  “You know, you were supposed to be in prison a hell of a lot longer than seven years,” Jester said conversationally, cleaning his fingernails with his razor. “Framing you was just the first act in a grand symphony of revenge. Did you really think I sent those men in Potawatomi to kill you? Of course not! They were people I wanted to be rid of, and I expected you to kill them. That way, every time you'd get close to parole, you'd have to off some guy and you'd get more and more years tacked onto your sentence instead. I wanted you to watch your freedom ooze away a few years at a time until one day, it became a life sentence and you'd hang yourself by your shoelaces or something. But you couldn't even do that right, could you? You had to leave those idiots alive and get out on time.”

  Jester pointed his gun at me and walked closer to Jewel, brandishing his blade. “I can't wait for the fireworks. They're going to be lovely, don't you think? All those blues and greens and yellows splashing across the night sky. Of course, I tend to prefer red splashes myself, so I guess I'll have to make some firework
s of my own.”

  All over something that never happened, I thought again. So many dead bodies, and all because I dated the wrong girl and she told a lie. It was enough to break my mind, when I thought about it that way. It was almost funny, really.

  “I think I'll start with these nice, big, soft tits of hers,” Jester said, his blade drawing closer to Jewel's chest. She started to struggle, but Richie was holding her hands too tightly. “But what should I do with them? Hmm. Some fun arts and crafts project or other, no doubt.”

  I laughed.

  Through the throbbing in my head and the ringing in my ears and the blood pouring from my nose, through the fear and the hate and the heartbreak and the insanity, I laughed.