by Dee Palmer
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was a fashion statement I was making. Up, keep your fucking hands up.” I smile when he instantly complies. “Finn, do you want to take their guns and put them in the cabin?”
“Happily,” Finn snatches the guns out of the holsters slung across each of the men’s backs and walks toward me. “You okay?” she mouths, only I can’t reply. Every muscle in my body is rigid with fear. From the tip of my fingers gripping the gun to the muscles around my mouth, I’m unable to pull any kind of facial expression to reassure my friend. “It’s all right. You did good. I’m going to lock these away and put some clothes on. You got this, Hope, you fucking got this.”
“Yes, I got this.” I manage to speak, as Finn pats my shoulder. Listening to her feet pad up the wooden steps behind me, I daren’t turn, and as much as my shoulder is screaming with the unfamiliar weight, I daren’t lower the gun, either.
“Now, darlin’, why don’t you put that down,” the younger-looking man chimes in.
“Down here you mean?” I lower the gun to aim directly at his crotch.
“No, no, now, there’s no need for that. Fine, keep it up here.” He points to his face and locks his eyes to mine. I can’t work out the colour; they are small and too dark to distinguish any actual shade. Maybe they are black. He tilts his head and purses his lips in a taunting grin. “It’s not like you’re ever gonna shoot.”
“Oh? And what makes you think that?”
“You just don’t look the kind that’s comfortable aiming a gun is all.” He shrugs, and although he is right on the money, and everything about this feels wrong, I’m not about to let him know that.
“I’m not a fan of hurting dumb animals, either, but I think I can make an exception, so back off, buddy.” I jut the gun up in a threatening gesture that has the opposite effect. He takes another step toward me, and my heart jumps into my throat. Blood is pounding in my ears, and I can’t think straight. Why is he still moving toward me?
He softens his voice and holds out his hand. “Why don’t you give that to me?”
“Stop! I mean it. Stop moving, or I’ll—” My voice cracks and the gun starts to shake in my hands.
“Or you’ll?” He closes the distance before I can take a breath needed to shout out and slams his hand over my mouth.
“Fi-mmm!” My muffled cries are absorbed by his meaty palm. He snatches the gun and passes it to his friend, lifting me clear off the ground. His thick arms contain my struggling body as if I’m only a mild irritant to the task in hand.
“Ah, shit, Gus, this ain’t even loaded.”
“It ain’t?” Gus growls. “You’re going to pay for making a fool out of me, missy.”
“I really don’t think you need my help for that.” I’m bucking and trying to break free. Gus steps up to my face and grabs it, squeezing it between his fat fingers until it squishes painfully and makes my lips pucker.
“She’s got such a smart mouth, ain’t she, Charlie?” He directs the question at his brother while aiming his filthy breath all over my face, and I choke back the urge to purge.
“Fuck, now this film I have seen, Finn!!” I mutter, and then yell out with every sound-carrying molecule of oxygen I have in my lungs.
“It’s okay, I’m here.” She speaks with a soft voice and a gentle smile tipping her lips. I twist my body to get a better look.
“Finn, what the fuck? You couldn’t get a bloody gun or a knife?” She’s wearing jeans, a long sleeved shirt, sneakers and is carrying a broom. Unless she’s enrolled in Hogwarts and that’s a magic broom, I want to repeat, ‘what the actual fuck, Finn’.
“I don’t need a gun. Now put her down and leave,” she states calmly, and if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, I think I would be laughing right alongside these numb-nuts.
“Or what? You’re gonna sweep us to death?”
“No, I’m going to break both your noses, crack some ribs and send your balls back from where they dropped. This is no longer a broom; this is my Bo-staff.” She flattens her tight smile and straightens herself to her full height, all five feet six of it.
“Finn?” I can’t hide the genuine concern in my voice even as the Neanderthal man handling me puts me back on my feet and squares up to my tiny friend. She kicks the end off of the broom and swirls the handle like a majorette with attitude. Slicing the air in front of her like a pro, both men take a cautious step back. I’ve never seen her look so calm or fierce. She tucks one end of the staff under her arm, the long end pointing at her prey, and she beckons them with her other hand.
That is so cool.
They lunge at her, and she cracks the nearest one across the neck, and he crumples forward, staggering to regain his balance. The second one attacks, and she spins away from his advance and swipes the back of his knees, he falls to the ground like the sack of shit he is. She strikes a blow on the back of Charlie’s neck, and he collapses unconscious. The first one is back on firm footing and starts to circle her. She backs away with each step, and he tries to close the distance. Her staff keeps him at a safe distance. He makes several attempts to lunge at her, and each time, she swiftly darts to the side or ducks out of his reach. As good as she clearly is, if he does manage to grab hold of that weapon, it’s over. She is no match for his bulk, and I’m no help.
I haven’t been able to move my rooted feet since that arsehole put me back on the ground. I can’t stop thinking that I nearly pulled the trigger. I didn’t know it wasn’t loaded, and I was about to pull the trigger. I was about to kill someone.
“All right, enough of this martial art shit. When I get my hands on you, I’m going to tear ya ass in two, and you’re gonna fucking beg at me to stop. And I ain’t gonna.”
“I’m kind of begging you to stop now. So many grammatical errors in that sentence, my head hurts. Not to mention, now that I have a visual of your limp little dick, a little bit of vomit just hit my mouth.”
“You fucking little bitch!” He lunges for Finn, and she cracks him full-on in the nuts with the end of the staff. He stills for a moment, and with a comical slow motion that I’ve only ever seen in a movie he topples to the ground clutching his crown jewels. There’s an echo of a gunshot, and we both jump and spin in the direction of the distant sound.
“Is that more brothers, do you think?” I rush over to Finn, who is holding the staff at the ready as the man groans and writhes on the floor. We are both looking at the horizon, shielding our eyes as the bright sun distorts the image of four figures cresting the brow of the hill.
“No, that’s not more brothers; those are my husbands.” Finn beams at me, and I gape at the vision.
“Fuck Finn, they look like the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”
“Sexy, hmm?”
“If you like that kind of thing.” I shrug and fight to keep a straight face.
“Yeah, not your thing at all.” She snorts out a laugh, only to stop instantly when she catches the change in my posture. My shoulder drops, and I start to tremble. I can feel a surge of emotion well inside me, and it takes everything I have to keep it together. My voice breaks, and my eyes fill with tears of terror and relief.
“Finn, I nearly shot him. I was seconds away from killing that man.” I point a wobbly finger at Charlie who is still unconscious in the dirt. Finn pulls me into her side with her one free arm.
“Hope, it’s okay. You didn’t shoot him, the gun wasn’t loaded, and you were trying to save us from…well, let’s be optimistic and say the best outcome was going to be something pretty fucking horrendous.”
“But you saved us.” We lock eyes and take a moment, where a silent acknowledgement of a bullet well and truly dodged on every level is shared. We hug, and when I think my nerves have calmed enough to speak, I ask. “Where did you learn moves like that?”
“Tug. He gave me some serious training after I got into a”—she air quotes—“situation.” She elaborates a little. “I got out of that situation fine, but it freaked Tug a
nd Pink out, so I am now trained in self-defence and other nifty stuff up the kazoo.” The thunder of hooves shakes the ground; the noise is ominously threatening as the horses approach at a full gallop. I don’t take a fully relaxed breath until I can actually recognise the faces of the riders, right before a plume of dust engulfs us all when they pull the animals to a standstill.
Charge flits his glare to Finn and gives her a full body check before scanning the rest of the scene around us. He is first to jump down. He throws his reins to Toxic who is next to dismount. Tug takes his horse and walks the perimeter. Pink also hands his reins to Toxic and walks over to us alongside Charge.
“What the fuck happened here?” Pink asks. Charge has his death stare fixed on the two men, and his jaw clenched so tight, I doubt he could speak if he tried. Finn steps over the body of the groaning man at our feet and places her hand on Charge’s chest, hoping to calm the fury I can see raging in his eyes.
“We’re okay, I’m okay.” She says softly.
“What happened?” Pink repeats. Nothing.
“I nearly killed that one.” I announce, breaking the tense silence, pointing to the man still unconscious.
“They’re arseholes, and things got a little hairy, but it’s all sorted. We’re fine. They will be a little sore, but no harm done.” Finn says, not completely dismissing the gravity of the situation, but at least trying to defuse the bubbling volatility in her men.
“No. Harm. Done.” The deep throaty words rumble like a threat from his mouth.
“Charge, come on, this is why Tug did all that training with me, why you all did that training with me, so I could take care of myself.” She holds his face in her small hands, forcing him to hear her. She kisses his lips, and only then does he seem to come out of his blind haze of fury and rage.
“These are hunters, so where are their guns?” Toxic asks, having tied the horses over near the stables. He comes right up behind Finn and wraps his arms around her. She twists in his arms to answer his question.
“I took them off them. They are locked in the gun cupboard. Your one over there isn’t loaded.” She points to where Charlie had dropped Charge’s gun after taking it from me. She bounces the staff between her hands. “And I thought this would be better than a knife. I didn’t actually want to hurt anyone or get that close, just incapacitate. That’s right, isn’t it, Tug?” She calls over to Tug who is just returning from the woods. He walks the horse over to where we are all standing, swings his legs over the withers and slides to the ground with a hefty thump. He pulls her into his arms and rests his chin on top of her head, casting long deadly glances at the men on the floor.
“You did that all right, sugar, but honestly with these scumbags, you’d have done the world a favour cutting their dicks right off ’em.”
I smile, and there is a rush of adrenaline and relief that surges through my body, culminating in the very real need to throw up. I turn and rush to the edge of the woodland, bend double and empty the very slim pickings from what’s left of my breakfast and beer.
“It’s the shock.” A warm heavy hand strokes the length of my spine, only I’m not finished retching so I’m unable to thank Pink. He scoops my hair from around my face and lifts it away from my neck. The cool air feels so good even if I know it’s not really cool. It’s still hot as hell here, and my skin is now coated with a sheen of sweat from a mix of constant heat and residual nerves. I blow out a breath when I feel the last roll of nausea from my tummy ebb.
“I’m okay,” I take the handkerchief he is holding and wipe my mouth.
“You sure? You look a little pale.”
“I’m a redhead; we only do pale or translucent.” I manage to smile when he does the same. He’s handsome—they all are—still he has this look in his bright crystal blue eyes that makes me think…no. I shake myself and flash a bright and mind-changing smile. “So what happens now?” He nods for me to follow, and we walk back to the others.
“Well, I think we could bury the bodies over there,” Tug says deadpan, and I blurt out a laugh and wait for the others to join in. Nothing.
“You’re joking? Finn, they’re joking right?” She shrugs, and I drop my mouth wide, looking at each of them as they in turn look at each other.
“Oh, man, please, please don’t. We were just playing.” Charlie is awake, sitting with his back to the other guy. They are now bound together around their chests with some thick rope, and their hands are in front of them, secured with cable ties.
“I have one piece of advice for you, dickhead: It’s shut the fuck up.” Finn points a warning finger, and my mind races. This is not real, what the hell? She winks at me, and I have no idea if that’s a good wink or a ‘hop on board the crazy train’ wink.
Toxic appears from behind me and throws one of the shotguns at Charge who snatches it, checks the barrel, and cocks it back, ready to fire.
“Finn?” My eyes must be like saucers, and all I get is another wink. I start to shake my head, and she steps up to me, threads her fingers in mine and whispers.
“They’re just messing with them. They’ll want to put the fear of god in them, so they don’t ever think it’s a good idea to come back.”
“And you’re sure about that, because Charge does not look like he’s messing.” My tone is hushed, still I can hear the panic in my voice.
“Fairly sure, yes.” She grins.
“Oh, fairly sure, that’s all right then.”
“Shh, Hope,” She puts her index finger over my lips, a poor attempt to silence me as I continue to speak around her digit.
“I’ve seen this movie, too, where the hero or heroine get too damn cocky.” She drops her hand when Pink interrupts my spiralling concern.
“They’ve both pissed themselves, I think they’re good to go.” Pink grins, pointing to the trickle of urine on the ground where the men are sitting.
“Good to go?” I ask, since none of this is making sense to me. They all seem to have this sixth sense and non-verbal way of communicating, even Finn to an extent, and it completely evades me.
“Yeah, Charge and Tug are going to take them over to the Callahan ranch. They can get the cops to pick them up from there,” Pink explains.
“Oh, right. So no-one’s getting shot?”
“The day’s not over yet,” Charge says and drags Charlie onto his feet by the scruff of his shirt. The other man stumbles to keep up, and both have fearful, wide eyes and wet pants. I don’t blame them.
THE SUN IS STARTING TO get low over the lake, and it’s welcome when it takes a degree or two of heat with it. The colours in the sky are majestic. Azure bleeds into cerise, and deeper indigoes and midnight blues blaze across the horizon with petrol greens, just waiting to dominate and bring on the night in earnest. I’m sitting with a cold beer and my best friend in comfortable silence as Pink and Toxic load up the barbecue somewhere in the background.
“How long will they be?” Hope asks, and it takes a second to realise she’s not talking about the food.
“Who? Oh, sorry, um, I’m not sure. The Callahan place isn’t as far as home, but it’s still a fair drive.”
“You know they didn’t really do anything.” She glances my way, and I give an understanding nod. “I mean, it sucks, because we both know they would’ve if they’d got the chance. But, as it stands, they’re the ones covered in bruises. They could press charges against you, couldn’t they?”
“I don’t think their egos would admit to having their arses handed to them buy a five foot six Brit. Besides, they were trespassing, and I was defending myself. I don’t think they’re going to be a problem.”
“It was very sweet how they all just had to touch you, to check you were all right. That’s really nice.”
“It is.” I let out a slow sigh.
“Although Charge is a little scary.”
“Scary?” My brow arches with surprise.
“Intense.” She corrects herself, and I feel I need to jump in and defend him, because
although I can’t argue, he did look mighty fierce today. He has very good reasons.
“He’s lost everyone that was close to him. He’s just very protective of us all.”
“You, he’s very protective of you.”
“Yes, but the others, too. I mean, he wants them to be happy. That’s important to him. It’s why our situation works, his jealousy is trumped by the love for his brothers.”
“He gets jealous?”
I try and explain and even to my ears it’s a tricky concept to comprehend. “Yes, no, maybe that’s the wrong word, but he’s the only one that never shared me. It’s always been different with him because of that.”
“And Pink?” She says with a slight hesitation in her voice. I turn to face her and wait long seconds for her to do the same, so I can see in her eyes what question she is actually asking.
“What about Pink?”
“He seems different.” She shrugs and blinks, looking back over the lake before I can get a read on what’s going through her head.
“Pink is …he’s—”
“His ears are burning.” Pink interrupts me and is directly behind us. I have to flip my head right back to look up and see his face.
“As long as the burgers aren’t, because I am starving.” I take Pink’s offer of his hand to haul myself up.
“Don’t let me stop you. I’d love to hear what I am.”
“Then you shouldn’t have snuck up only to reveal yourself when I was about to tell Hope all about you.”
“All, hmm? That really won’t take long. How about I do the honours?” He crosses his ankles and lowers himself to sit beside Hope.
“Be my guest.” I dust the sand from my legs and walk over to give Toxic a hand, leaving Pink and Hope to it, whatever it is.
Toxic hands me a fresh beer and hangs his soft flannel shirt over my shoulders. The sun has dissolved into the horizon, and even with the heat from the flames of the barbecue, the night air can be quite chilly. He’s wearing low-slung shorts and nothing else, and with shadows and flickers of fire dancing across his tanned and muscular torso, he looks primal. He looks hot.
