by Coralee June
I spent the next three minutes reassuring myself that she was safe. I knew the immediate threat to her life was gone. I had six piles of ash in my backyard to prove it. All that was left of Rosemary’s men was the stink of charred skin. Getting rid of the bodies was always the worst part. It was like a massive hangover after a raging night of drinking. It was messy and exhausting, a sloppy reminder of the sin I’d committed.
I didn’t think that the Asphalt Devils would go after her. Roe was my dirty little secret. But secrets were tricky. No matter how hard you fought to keep them under wraps, they always came out.
I wanted to torment my enemies more. When I drove up to the scene and saw Mack’s mangled car on the blacktop, I wanted to burn the world down. Luckily, Mack was on his way to my cabin, so it happened on a secluded road. No witnesses made my job easier. There was no one to hear the screams. No one to see the splattering of blood. The cleanup crew cost a pretty penny, something my boss bitched about after the fact, but I didn’t care.
I’d killed them all. I’d lodged bullets through their skulls like the skilled marksman I was. Retribution was a drug, and addiction’s in my blood. I wanted to torture them, but other things demanded my attention.
Things like a damaged girl passed out in Mack’s trampled passenger seat. Things like her wild, light brown hair and chilled skin. Roe got hurt because of me, and I couldn’t fucking see straight. I thought she was dead. An entire lifetime of regret came to a screeching halt when I saw her too-still form. It was the end of an era. The chains she had over my life seemed broken, but I craved the cold shackles digging into my skin.
And when I dragged her from the car, her faint pulse mocked me.
I’d imagined us meeting a thousand times, but I never wanted this. I never imagined I’d carry her home with her blood seeping through my shirt.
She was so close. I fucking touched her.
Her.
Roe.
My finger brushed against her skin, and it felt like caressing thorns.
I hated her.
I went to my kitchen and sat at my worn table. Picking up the pocket knife on my tabletop, I flicked it open and ran my thumb along the sharpened blade until my skin punctured and blood spilled from the cut.
It was surreal having Roe in my home. I’d been looking after her for the better part of a decade—hell, since the day she was born. It wasn’t until around the time that her mother died that I was financially stable enough to take my obsession to a new level.
Fucking Mack. He had one job: keep her safe.
And he failed me.
I hired Mack eight years ago. I entrusted him with her. I’d known him for a while, and when he wanted to settle down, I figured he’d be perfect for the job. His daughter died of cancer fifteen years ago, and I sensed that he needed someone to care for. We both worked for the Bullets, but Mack was lonely. Despite his deadly expertise, he was a family man through and through. He took the job, convincing himself that it was just something to pay the bills, but kept it because he liked having a family again.
Back when I’d hired Mack, I told him that whatever happened to Roe, I’d do it to him. When she cut her palm on glass, I sliced his. When she fell and scraped her knee on the concrete, I took sandpaper to his skin. And when her arm snapped in the car accident, I cracked his bone with a hammer, relishing in his screams as I kept my promise. It was a moment of deadly weakness. I paid him enough for his trouble, and he knew he couldn’t run from this—from me. I’d kill him. Besides, he cared too much about Roe to leave her to me. Smart man.
Mack blamed me for the attack, but I blamed myself more. I had a long list of enemies, but no one had ever connected me to her.
Until now.
I put the bloodied knife on the table and used my other hand to reach for my phone. Turning to my surveillance app, I frowned when I was greeted with Roe’s distant expression as she sat in the passenger seat of the new car I’d bought them. Since the accident, I’d upped security, putting a camera in the air vent so I could watch while they drove. As if the GPS wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Part of me regretted hurting Mack; it meant he was vulnerable against another attack. My anger had gotten the best of me, but I didn’t mind picking up the slack for now.
A halo of sunlight kissed her hair, and an odd sense of pride filled my chest at the sight of her in my sweatshirt. A pout was planted on her thick lips, her gnashing teeth made her jaw flex. Peering at Mack with sideways glances, she seemed full of distrust. I couldn’t blame her. The half-assed excuses we’d given her were insulting to her intelligence. Roe was smart, though she didn’t give herself enough credit. It was only a matter of time before she figured it all out.
I dreaded that day.
I counted her breaths and gazed at the blurred screen, noting the dullness in her brown eyes and the cut on her lip. I saw everything. Heard everything. Watched everything.
Every time I saw Roe’s face, I hated her more. So I watched her as often as I could.
My phone started ringing, disrupting the feed. I glanced at the caller ID and debated answering it when I saw the name: Gavriel Moretti.
My boss was a ruthless fucker, and I knew if I didn’t answer, I’d have my ass handed to me on a silver platter.
I clicked the button and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“You failed,” he replied. His gruff voice sounded like smoke and disappointment.
“I took care of the problem,” I replied cryptically while glancing out my window at the spot where Rosemary’s men were burned to the bone. Moretti and I had a code of sorts. Though our phones were encrypted, you could never be too cautious.
“You should have taken care of the problem before it got to this point. Someone found your weakness, and it’s only a matter of time before the wrong people connect you to me. You know how important discretion is to me, old friend.”
I shook my head and walked over to the sink to run cool water over the cut on my thumb. I was a hitman. An assassin. I’d always had a steady hand and a good eye. It felt odd to brag about being the best in the business, but I was. I never wanted to be glorified for killing; it took away from the sport of it all. The Bullets hired me on my eighteenth birthday when Roe was just eight years old. I saw an opportunity to better watch over her and took it. I’d been discreetly cleaning up their messes ever since.
Gavriel had settled down with his family a few summers back, but he still ran the business from a distance. He checked in on his associates to make sure they were doing their job and to cash the checks they’d earned for him. I only answered to Gavriel, though. Which meant he took a hands-on approach to my role in his business.
A motorcycle club had been crossing the line of the Bullet territory. Gavriel was territorial and trigger happy. I got the orders to take down their leader, Rocky Jones, two months ago. It was an easy job. He was drunk in his living room, stroking his cock to some shitty porn, and I caught him with his pants down—literally. He had a predictable schedule and was too egotistical to hire personal bodyguards. It was almost too easy to kill the fat fucker, but I wasn’t expecting his daughter to walk through the door just as I was making my bloody exit. Rosemary Jones was wide-eyed and shocked when she saw me. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. I didn’t kill women; it was just a rule I had. I didn’t imagine she’d take over her father’s job so quickly.
The thing about killing someone of power was that there was always someone quick to take their place. Rosemary claimed her throne as the queen of the Asphalt Devils. It wasn’t a title worth bragging about; the gang was loud but lacked organization. Rosemary went looking for revenge but found a lot more than she bargained for.
“They won’t be coming back,” I promised. “I’m not even sure how they found out about Roe. They’re nothing. No one. I’ve got it handled.”
Gavriel let out a sigh. I imagined him sipping water at his desk, brushing his hand along his chin while debating how best to control the situation—control me. He
was a decent man to work for despite his hardened personality. But I knew that when push came to shove, he would always choose his family’s safety over mine. And if I became a threat to that, he’d have no problem taking me out.
I’d like to see him try.
“How is she?” he finally asked.
“Fine,” I gritted. I didn’t like when he talked about Roe.
He went silent again. Gavriel liked those long, pregnant pauses in conversations. He liked to have the world on the edge of their seat, waiting for his next play. “You know,” he began. “I understand you, Hunter. I understand your need to protect her. I respect you more for it despite your reasons.”
I hadn’t told Gavriel about Roe. He’d discovered it all on his own. Gavriel collected knowledge like it was gold, holding onto the precious currency and using it to make deals. Though he hadn’t threatened her, I knew that he wasn’t above holding her safety over my head. “What’s your point?” I snapped.
“Watch your tone, Hunter. Remember who you’re speaking to.”
I let out a sigh. Gavriel was the sort of man to demand respect. He didn’t become the leader of the largest, most powerful gang in America by being passive. “Yeah, okay,” I replied.
“As I was saying, if you need help, I’m only a phone call away. I take care of my people, Hunter. You might enjoy living alone out in the middle of nowhere, but you don’t have to seclude yourself. I have the resources to take care of you and her.”
I knew this. I knew that if I needed the Bullets’ support, Gavriel would be here with his army by nightfall. But I didn’t want to need anyone. Gavriel’s help came with stipulations. He didn’t do anything out of the kindness of his heart. Hell, I doubted he even had a heart. Being close to him just meant I was deeper in the trenches. I liked pretending I was in control of my own life. He was my boss, and I was a killer. I could handle this on my own.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied curtly.
“Good,” he replied, like the benevolent asshole he pretended to be. “I’ve sent you another assignment. It’s local, so you won’t need to travel too far. I know you are anxious about leaving right now. Once this is taken care of, I don’t think we’ll have any more problems. Rosemary has no idea what it takes to run a lucrative gang. She’s angry and hurt, but the Asphalt Devils will be as dead as her father soon enough. We’ll just keep killing until they get the idea. She won’t want the blood on her hands.”
At his words, adrenaline pounded through my veins. I always got like this. Killing was an elaborate chess game. How would I do it? Where would I be? Would I get caught?
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Good. I’ll wire the reward to you once proof of completion has been submitted. Denver has been good for business, and I refuse to lose that territory to a shitty motorcycle gang.”
It was all so transactional. The value of life got lost behind dollar signs and power plays. Humanity had no significance in our world, only power. “Sounds good.”
I was about to hang up the phone when Gavriel stopped me. “Oh, and Hunter?”
I closed my eyes, then stared out the window again. “Yeah?”
“Don’t fuck up this time.”
The phone line went dead.
Fucking Gavriel Moretti. I tossed my smartphone on the counter and shut off the water. My thumb was still bleeding, so I grabbed a paper towel and pressed it against the wound.
Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful for him. I’d probably be dead by now if he hadn’t given me guidance and direction. Plus, he paid fucking well. He knew there was no one better than me, and paid accordingly. I couldn’t pay Mack and take care of Roe without his generous compensation. Before working with the Bullets, I was a stupid teen trying to get by, floundering on the dark web and living on the streets. Gavriel offered a sense of stability in my life I hadn’t had before. He molded me in his image and turned me into a cold-blooded killer. I wasn’t disillusioned. I knew my role implicitly and didn’t blame him for making me this way. I was always meant to be a murderer, regardless of who cut my checks.
I stared at my phone once more, debating whether to pick it up and watch Roe again. Fucking Roe. The bane of my existence. The devil on my shoulder.
My one weakness.
She knew me now. She might not have seen my face, but she knew the power I held over her life. My manic awe at seeing her in person had me by the balls. I gave in. I let too much slip. I let my life collide with hers instead of watching from the sidelines, and now I had a clusterfuck to clean up.
I knew there was a change in the air when I saw her on her birthday. It was reckless and stupid. I touched her cheek and flirted when I should have been running the fuck away. Now, she knew too much and it was all my fault. Keeping my distance had worked for the better part of a decade, but now I didn’t know how to proceed.
I should have made her stay here. I might have taken care of my enemies, but more would come. I just couldn’t handle having my weakness under my roof. Knowing how close she was gave me that high before a kill. I couldn’t trust myself to keep her safe when every instinct in my body was screaming at me to end this torturous existence—end this torturous obsession.
Giving in, I reached for my phone and opened the camera feed again. They were home now. Part of me hoped she memorized the turns leading to my cabin. Part of me hoped that she’d come back here demanding answers.
But mostly, I hoped that she was too scared to return. She should be.
I switched to the feed in her bedroom and watched her sink onto her queen-sized bed. She stared at the wall for a moment while clenching her fist. She was angry. Good.
Minutes ticked by, and then she stood slowly. Grief-stricken, I watched her aching body struggle as she moved around her room, shoving clothes and other items into her backpack. Every shift of her body had both of us grimacing. She folded shirts and packed a toothbrush. A wide grin crossed my face as I realized what she was doing.
Roe wanted to run.
I’d seen her fighting spirit over the years. Her defiance. She barreled through life, living recklessly and without shame.
I’d let her run, sure.
But I would catch her.
I always caught her.
ROE
My bag was packed, but I wasn’t quite sure where I was going. I had no escape plan or place to go. I wasn’t really suited for running away. I had maybe a hundred dollars to my name from Christmas and other days I refused to celebrate, and no real skills or experience to keep me going. I was leaving in the middle of the school year, so I didn’t even have a high school diploma to get a decent job. Uncle Mack never let me work. He said I needed to focus on my studies, but now I wondered if he did that to keep me isolated.
I’d accepted that I’d probably end up sleeping on the streets until I could find a job. It would suck as my body healed, but I could do it. Mom and I had been kicked out of enough apartments for me to know that even if it wasn’t ideal, I could survive. She was always too scared to work. She liked keeping me safe and under her thumb. The entire world was a death trap, and things like groceries, rent, and the electricity bill were inconsequential in comparison.
I stole my social security card and birth certificate from Uncle Mack’s bedroom and stashed a full bottle of Tylenol, a sleeping bag from when Uncle Mack used to take me camping, and enough clothes to last a week in my bag. I wasn’t a survivalist in the slightest, but I wasn’t stupid either. My uncle was working with some deadly people. He was involved in something I wanted nothing to do with, and the fact that he wouldn’t even explain what was happening made me want to flee. I wasn’t equipped to leave, but I sure as fuck wasn’t staying here, either. Maybe I could get on a bus and just ride until I found a place that felt right.
I was conditioned at a young age to trust my intuition. Mom said the night Dad died, it was like someone had taken a bat to her gut. I used to bite my tongue until it bled to stop myself from reminding her that it was the con
tractions hurting her. Dad died the night I was born, after all.
But my gut was telling me to run the fuck away. It was a stupid, hollow plan, but it was still a plan. At least I wouldn’t be here.
I walked out to the living room, clutching the straps of my backpack with my good hand as I braced myself for Uncle Mack’s questions. As expected, he twisted in his recliner to stare at me. His face looked even worse now than this morning. His eyes were so swollen that I doubted he could actually see me. “Where are you going?” he growled while struggling to stand up. His bulky body staggered with every move. I’d considered waiting a few days to go but realized now was my best option. Uncle Mack couldn’t physically keep me here, he was too injured. Though I wasn’t in much better shape, I could still get away if I needed to.
But I was clinging to hope. I’d give Uncle Mack an ultimatum. If he told me the truth, I’d stay. If he lied…
“I guess that’s up to you,” I replied.
“You can’t leave, Roe,” Uncle Mack said, his voice clouded with annoyance and skepticism. “You don’t understand—”
“Because you won’t tell me!” I interrupted. “We were in a car chase! Some guy locked me in a room in his cabin. He drugged me. And you just want me to pretend as if nothing happened?” I scoffed. “Fuck that. You raised me to be mindful of my surroundings and keep safe. If you were in my position, you’d be gone in an instant.” I punctuated my words by snapping my fingers. “You’re the one putting me in danger, Uncle Mack. Tell me everything, or I’m out of here.”
He grimaced while stalking closer to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was my words hurting him or moving his body. “I know you want answers, kid. I really do. There’s just so much you don’t know.”
“Then tell me,” I pleaded while taking a step backward. My backpack hit the front door. I felt trapped and, for the first time in my life, terrified of my uncle. I knew it was all in my head. He was too hurt to actually do anything. But the man that raised me and the man standing in front of me now seemed like two completely different people.
