I was stuck where I was, literally, until she came out.
My feet hadn’t let me move in five hours and, I looked at my watch, six minutes.
My bladder was screaming, yet here I stood.
And when the door opened, emitting a very exhausted looking Rue, Cleo’s wife, I finally breathed deeply for the first time in hours.
I really didn’t know why I was affected in this way, but I was, and I couldn’t help it. Something inside of me was ravaged at having witnessed that act of violence.
And I didn’t feel so much as responsible for her, as just plain caring how she was doing.
“You got the clothes?”
Rue’s question was geared towards Cleo rather than anyone else in the hallway.
Her brown eyes lit briefly on me before she nodded her head and said, “You can come in.”
I blinked in surprise, but nonetheless went in and closed the door as Rue walked across the room.
She knocked softly on the door that I assumed was the bathroom and said, “I’m hanging the clothes on the doorknob just inside the door.”
With no answer, Rue knocked again, and a quiet, “Thank you,” followed the knock.
Rue sighed and turned around, gathering up papers as she spoke. “She wants you to take her back home. But I was hoping to talk to you before she got out.”
I blinked. “She doesn’t want me in here?”
I started backing towards the door before she even got the quick, “Yes,” out of her mouth.
I stopped with my back against the door and waited for her to proceed.
She didn’t disappoint.
“She’s acting like everything’s fine, but I think once she gets home and is alone, she’s going to break. I want you to be aware, and possibly go check on her,” she said softly.
I nodded. “Okay.”
I would, too.
“I have some pamphlets for her to take home, and I think it would be beneficial for her to go speak with someone,” Rue continued.
I nodded again and took the pamphlets she held out. “Okay.”
As she kept talking, I just kept wondering why.
Why did she want me?
I wasn’t a very nice guy.
I didn’t treat women right.
I loved ‘em and left ‘em.
She’d probably hate me in real life if I hadn’t saved her.
“The last thing I need to show you is this. I need you to convince her to take it,” she said softly.
The shower turned off, and I could hear Mercy moving around, tags being ripped from the clothes, and the distinct sound of cotton against skin.
“What is it?” I rumbled quietly, looking down at her hand and a pill wrapped in a plastic package.
“It’s plan B,” Rue said softly. “The man didn’t use protection. It’s possible that she could be pregnant. This is to counteract that, and must be taken within the first forty eight hours after unprotected sex.”
I blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”
I didn’t want that responsibility.
I wasn’t responsible!
“Because I asked her to,” Mercy said softly. “I know that you don’t know me, but you’re all I have right now. You’re the only one who has a sound mind. Mine is in turmoil and my family’s probably is, too. I need someone that has a rational brain in their skull to try to convince me, because right now I don’t think I can take that.”
She indicated the pill with a nod, and I shook my head. “I’m really not understanding what you think I can do.”
She came fully out of the bathroom in a pair of black yoga pants and a Mickey Mouse shirt. A pair of pink house slippers donned her feet, and her long brown hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Please,” she said softly.
I sighed and took the pill that Rue was still offering me.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded in confirmation and turned to stare at the door in trepidation.
Not knowing if my touch would be helpful or not, I walked towards her, offering her my arm for support.
***
The ride home was awkward, and what I pulled into when I arrived at her street was anything but normal.
There were police cars, fire trucks, and news crews everywhere.
“Oh, no,” Mercy moaned.
“What the fuck?” I asked as we passed car after car.
There were literally people everywhere.
Didn’t these assholes know that this was the last thing she needed right now?
Then I saw the huge crowd, and I was thankful we were in an unmarked car, because I pulled through a loop around driveway and started driving in the opposite direction.
“What’s your second choice?” I asked.
She shrugged. “My parents, I guess.”
She said it with the upmost reluctance that I was fairly positive that that was the last place on earth that she wanted to be.
“You’re going to have to talk to them eventually,” I said as I started to drive.
Not towards her parents, but to my place.
Why, I couldn’t tell you, but I did.
It was monumentally stupid, but she needed it.
“I know,” she whispered brokenly. “Just…not yet. They’re just going to tell me I told you so, and I’m not ready to hear that quite yet.”
I refrained from asking the question that was on the tip of my tongue, but only just barely.
“How about my place…or a hotel?” I offered.
She looked at me with her heart in her eyes. “Your place.”
And that was the beginning of how I became well and truly fucked.
And not in a bad way.
Chapter 3
Back in the day, I used to call them names when someone pissed me off. Now, I just unfollow them on twitter. That’ll show those motherfuckers!
-Mercy to Miller
Miller
When I got home the next day after dropping Mercy off at her house, I threw up for an hour.
Once I got all the food and water up, I started on the bile. Then the dry heaves finished up the entire lovely round.
I couldn’t breathe, and all I could do was replay the previous day’s events in my mind, wondering how the hell a woman would be able to get over what had happened to her that day.
“You okay?” Foster asked a while later.
I held up my thumb. “Fucking peachy.”
I wasn’t okay.
I was far from okay.
I’d done nothing but hold a woman that could do nothing but cry for the last day.
I was literally exhausted, and I felt like a fucking dick for just dropping her off at her house. However, that’d been what she wanted, so I’d done it.
Even though I’d been extremely reluctant to do so.
“She take it?” Foster asked softly.
I shook my head. “No.”
Foster was speaking of the morning after pill.
After hours of trying to convince her to do it, she’d finally flushed it down the sink while tears had coursed down her face at an alarming rate.
Foster had entered our apartment somewhere in the middle of me trying to convince her, and Mercy telling me of her ‘values’ of not killing a child, no matter how that child was conceived.
She’d said, over and over, that if ‘God wanted her to have a child with that…man, then she’d have one. And she’d love it.’
I’d refrained from disagreeing or agreeing.
Personally, I had a feeling that she wouldn’t take it when I’d received it from Cleo’s woman. Me, playing devil’s advocate to a poor woman who’d just been raped, was mainly for Mercy’s benefit. She needed to know the consequences of keeping a child that’d been conceived like that…if she was even pregnant.
Only time would tell, though. And I wasn’t one to preach to he
r about right or wrong.
I didn’t know the bible like I probably should. I was a Christian, and I spoke to God, but I wasn’t an avid church goer.
I was a man who believed in God and country. Country more so than God, but that was neither here nor there.
“It was her decision not to, I just hope she realizes what’s going to happen to that kid if she stays in Kilgore. Everyone will know that that baby was conceived by rape, and the child will never live it down,” Foster said softly, leaning his bulk against the doorframe.
I turned on Foster with a snarl turning up the tip of my lip. “That child will not be bullied. If he or she is, they’ll have to answer to me.”
I’d practically spat that, hurtling the words at my brother as if he’d been the one teasing the defenseless child.
Foster held his hands up in surprise. “I wasn’t saying I was going to do it! I was saying that that was going to be what happens. People are dickheads. Especially those old busybodies that have nothing else to do but talk their head off about everyone’s problems but their own.”
I just shook my head. “Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen, because I’ll fuck them up.”
He snorted. “The autopsy was done last night on the attacker. He had nothing in his system except a minute amount of alcohol.”
I looked at the toilet bowl, thankful that the cleaner had come only two days ago to clean the apartment. I wasn’t a big fan of puking, and puking in a toilet that stank of piss and shit wasn’t my favorite thing to do.
“Well, that explains a lot,” I said, sarcastically, before pushing myself to my feet.
He eyed me warily wondering if I’d finished or not. He probably stood there and took pictures of me the entire time.
He was a nice brother like that.
“How was her place?” Foster asked, following me into the kitchen where I promptly chugged a full can of beer.
He watched me in silence, waiting for me to finish before I answered.
“Ghost town. After she went to bed last night, I called her pop and then Chief Rhodes, who took it upon themselves to clear that mess up. They let every single radio station, news station, and newspaper in the Ark-La-Tex that was there, know that if one video showed up of Mercy, that they’d personally sue them,” I said, just before I belched.
“Five,” Trance said, walking through the front door without knocking.
I flipped him off.
We were going shooting today, or had been three days ago.
Now, I was fairly sure I was dehydrated, and I’d need something more than just a beer to help me recover.
Sadly, beer was all we had, and I’d have to wash a dish in the pile at the base of the sink if I wanted water.
So, beer it was.
After my third, I was finally okay enough to regard my two brothers who were staring at me like I was broken.
“What?” I snapped.
They both shook their heads.
A gesture so much alike that it was comical.
We all looked alike. I was the biggest and oldest. Trance was the middle and slightly less muscled than me, but the same height. Foster was the youngest, and the leanest. He wasn’t small by any means, he just didn’t have the bulk like Trance or me.
I sighed and walked to the bedroom, shucking my shirt and pants on the way.
My socks followed as I headed to the closet where I yanked out a fresh t-shirt that smelled like flowers and shit, courtesy, yet again, of the maid.
My jeans were hanging up again, too.
Ugh. I think she starched them as well.
“Look at this shit!” I yelled at my brothers.
Taking the pants, I rounded out the leg holes and set them down on the carpet where they stood on their own.
“Wow, Mandy does a good job at starching your pants,” Foster observed dryly.
Trance’s eyes rounded as he watched my starched jeans stand on their own. They’d probably stand up against a stiff wind, too.
“Are you wearing those?” Trance asked worriedly.
I gave him a look and yanked up all of
41 my starched pants, then walked to the wash room where I threw every one of them in the washer and turned the water on scald…or hot. Whatever.
Then I poured two cups of detergent into the wash with it and put it on its longest cycle before turning around to paw through the dirty clothes.
I unearthed a pair of jeans I’d worn last week, happy to see that only a few stains from, what I suspected was dirt, on the knees.
Slipping into the jeans, I walked back to my bedroom where I slipped my feet back into my boots.
“Did you get a new piece?” Trance asked when I stood up.
I nodded. “Colt .45. Snub nosed. Fits perfectly in my ankle holster. I can even run with it comfortably.”
“Sweet. I just got five boxes of shells for my .45. I want to shoot it,” Trance said as he walked with me out of the house and down the stairs.
Foster and I each had three bags a piece, plus I had two rifles slung over each shoulder.
Trance walked to his own truck and removed his rifle and bags before depositing them in the bed of my truck.
We all piled into my ’87 Chevrolet, sitting three across in the single cab pickup.
The rifles went into the floorboard and behind the seat, all barrels pointed towards the floor.
It was a tight fit, but we made it happen.
Although, if we were pulled over right now, we’d probably be arrested just on general principle.
“Why do we always take your stupid truck? I have a brand new one,” Foster grumbled from his position in the middle seat.
I shifted into reverse, being sure to nearly nail him in the balls, and backed out of the parking lot.
He cursed and covered his dick, causing us to laugh.
“Because I’m the oldest,” I said with wide eyes.
He just shook his head, and I drove to the shooting range where we were members.
“Do you think they think we’re gay?” Foster asked as he eyed a car of chicks to our left at the first stoplight we hit.
I looked over to find them all giggling and tossing glances our way.
“No. We look alike. Unless they think we’re incestuous, that is,” I offered.
Foster eyed where Trance had his arm running along the back of his shoulders, and I had my hand resting on the stick shift that was in between his legs. “No, I can’t see how they’d think that at all.”
I snorted and put it into first gear as the light turned green. “Well, then, let ‘em think that. We don’t have anything to prove to them.”
“What if my future wife was in that car?” Foster tittered.
I shot him a glance. “Foster, those girls were all of sixteen. If your future wife was in that car, she’d have to come visit you in the state pen for statutory rape.”
Trance snorted. “You used to be like that, too.”
I shrugged. “I’ve changed my ways.”
I had, too.
Over a year ago I’d been going through women like they were fucking candy.
Then I’d, literally, fucked one of my dates so hard that the wall between our apartment and the one on the other side had fallen with my exuberance, and I hadn’t had sex since.
I’d nearly killed someone. Two someone’s.
Granted, the wall had been flimsy and a piece of shit, and had withstood not just me having sex against it, but the previous occupant as well. I’d literally never been so scared in my life. Not even when I was in a middle of a fucking warzone with thirty Taliban pointing their weapons at my face.
Trance and Foster snorted. “You’ve turned into a little bitch.”
That comment came from Foster, and I made sure to nail him in the balls the next time I shifted gears.
“Fucker,” he wheezed.
I pulled into the driveway of the shooting range after thirty minute
s of listening to their bullshit, and was relieved to see the place deserted.
It was helpful that we’d come on a weekday. If it’d been a weekend it would’ve been hopping.
“Rifle or handgun first?” I asked at the T in the road that led to the separate ranges.
“Rifle.”
“Handgun.”
Rolling my eyes I took a right, choosing handgun first.
Foster shot Trance a triumphant grin, and Trance slugged him in the shoulder.
“Oww,” he whined.
I pulled into the spot next to the only car, thankful that I got a close parking spot.
I hated nothing more than having to haul all of our stuff back and forth to the truck. It was inevitable that I’d forget something.
Grabbing my ear protection from around the shifter, I placed it over my ears since I could already hear the lone occupant of the handgun range shooting up a storm.
It’d literally not stopped since we’d arrived. Nine shots, reload a clip, nine more shots.
That didn’t surprise me, though. Some people did it like that.
Though I was surprised to see that the shooter was a woman.
A sexy woman in jeans so tight that it made my mouth water.
She’d also caught the attention of Foster, too.
Her long black hair was down to her ass in soft waves, and her shirt declared her to have some affiliation to the Kilgore Fire Department.
Foster nudged me, moving his head towards the woman.
Trance didn’t even bother to look. He had a woman at home that he loved more than the air he breathed, as well as two beautiful children.
He didn’t need to look. He had it all.
Everything that I wished I had, but never told anybody about.
We waited for another five minutes for her to stop shooting before we announced ourselves, and when we did, she whipped around like she’d been shocked with a cattle prod.
That’s when my mind started to put together all the pieces.
“Hey Mercy,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”
I said it soothingly, mainly because she was gripping the gun like she’d pull it up at any second, even though we all knew she was out.
Her eyes darted between Trance and Foster, her mind rapidly taking in their huge forms before she settled on me.
Execution Style Page 2
