Chapter 19
NINETEEN
PRESENT DAY
I sat in the white, kinda-new Honda Accord, something Rook provided for me after I’d left Knight's house. It was plain enough to be inconspicuous in this middle-class neighborhood.
My phone sat on the knee that wasn't bouncing up and down, with the notification of ten unread texts blinking at the top.
All from Knight.
Rook and I had had a long talk, confessing things we’d been hiding, each forgiving the other, our bond only growing stronger for it. Then I'd spent the day berating myself for trusting Knight again, in between catching up with my girls, scheduling in new appointments for my clients, and making cold-hearted plans with Rook. It had been a hell of a day, mostly because my stomach was churning with what I was about to do.
On the seat next to me sat my Maximum 9 pistol.
While Knight and Phee had slept, Rook and I’d placed trackers on every single goddamn car Knight owned, just to be certain. According to the tracker on his Ford Bronco, a vehicle he used to fit into this neighborhood, Knight was here from five to eight p.m., spending three hours with his heart .
My jaw ached. I'd been gnashing my teeth all day, and I forced myself to relax, realizing that I was doing it again . Once this was all over, I would probably need new caps.
I looked at the completely average -looking suburban home. It was average sized, with diamond shaped windows, palm trees, decorative rocks, and even some grass, but it wasn’t anything particularly special.
Why the fuck Knight hadn't put his heart up in one of his mansions was beyond me. If he loved her so much, the least he could do was give her better shit. Not that the area wasn't nice, but the neighborhood was plainer than the daily newspaper, the kind that stayed folded in its plastic baggie in your front yard until trash day.
And now, it was two in the morning, too early for this sleepy neighborhood to notice a deadly woman sitting in a completely unremarkable car in the middle of the street.
The question was, would I really do it? Kill her. I mean, forget tit for tat, was I really that jealous? Was Knight worth all this?
She could be innocent. Mafia activity in this area was rare, except for the drugs the teens used when they partied. Nothing special.
And yet, I’d brought my goddamn quietest gun.
I mean, come on . She was probably an addict or married and cheating on her husband or a gold digger or a bitch.
All things that were wholly, entirely, possible.
And yet , not a killable offense.
But still, all day, the image of me knocking her in the head with the bottom end of my gun looped over and over in my head. Or shooting her in the leg or chaining her to a fence or burning her house down or something to make her feel the pain I was feeling inside.
The ache, the throbbing, pounding, burning pain inside me since I’d seen her stupid, fucking, text!
Making a decision, I took the gun, tucked it into the special holster at my side and stepped out of the car. I had my jacket on, so that would hide the gun, if necessary.
I just wanted to see her face. What the woman who'd managed to capture Knight's heart looked like.
Making my way across the driveway, I reminded myself: I wouldn't kill her.
I wouldn't even smash her brains in or—I—I wouldn't do anything bad. I would just get a look at her, just to know .
I had to know what she was like, then I would walk away from her and from this life.
Oh, I was still going to kill Knight.
There was no turning away from that.
If I didn't do it, Rook would.
We'd both wanted him to suffer first but, as I made my way towards her back door, I decided I was done with all that; it was too fucking exhausting. I knew Rook would never walk away from his own plans, but I was tired of this shit.
I just wanted to kill him and be done with it.
I was over this life, and besides, after Knight was dead, I would have to run, far and fast. Rook would take care to cover my tracks but I still held no illusions that Knight's family wouldn't come for me.
Cutting the girl’s line to her security system was easy but picking her lock was a struggle—she had a hundred double bolts or something, but it wasn’t anything I couldn't handle.
I opened the back door slowly, listening for any other signs of alarm. When all was quiet, I slid inside, using the flashlight I'd brought to make my way around.
The inside was nice, but also very average. A formal living and dining room. It was clean. Even the junk drawer was organized. And the food in the fridge was healthy. The girl was so goddamn normal and boring, I had no idea what Knight saw in her.
She must either have the eyes of a goddamn innocent bunny or natural tits the size of a starlet. Or both.
I grabbed a strawberry and began to chew on it as I made my way up the stairs. The higher I got, the more my stomach churned.
When I reached the top landing, there was a room to the left, then a short hallway with two other doors. I decided on the left door, as that was more likely to have the master bedroom.
I held my breath as I slipped through the gap in the door, using my flashlight to quickly assess the situation.
It was a large room, with a bed, sofa, and several plants. Mostly desert succulents. How dull.
Pictures lined the room but I didn't stop to look at them. I couldn’t bear the possibility of seeing their life together.
She wasn't married, or, at least, she was alone.
I kicked aside a sock, the only thing on the floor. Rolling my eyes, I crept up to the bed like a goddamn stalker.
Who was I kidding, I was one.
The woman was...plain.
No starlet boobs or luscious curves. In fact, she was all angles. Even under the covers, I could see that she was as skinny as a toothpick. She had high cheekbones and a narrow face, with short, white-blonde hair that stuck out across the pillow.
She was pretty…kindof... but in a most average way. Thin lips, a petite nose, chipped nail paint, the edges of her fingers sparkling, like she’d dipped them in glitter and had forgotten to wash it off.
I frowned.
Then kicked the edge of the bed.
This bitch.
She was nothing, nothing .
Not outstandingly stunning. Then, at least , I could rationalize why Knight would've fallen in love with her.
I needed her to wake up. To pull a gun on me so I could shoot her.
I needed a fucking reason to shoot this plain ass bitch!
She didn't move.
In fact, she snored even louder.
God, her instincts were dull.
I kicked the bed again, harder this time.
She moved, squirming in her bed until she had her back to me, mumbling something about wrinkled grey skin. What ?
I didn't know what the hell that was all about but clearly, the woman wasn't going to wake unless I did something drastic.
I scowled down at her, my mind fighting with itself.
She'd given me no reason why I should kill her.
Her kitchen drawers had revealed that she paid her bills on time. Her strawberry was goddamn delicious. She even seemed to be a vegetarian, for fucks sake. And now, here she was, in a tank top and not some sexy lingerie.
Knight didn't even spend the night with his heart .
Everything was in motherfucking order.
I. Hated. Her.
I pulled out my gun, pointing it.
After tonight, I would hate myself for the rest of my life.
I was going to have to drown myself in rum and more rum, maybe even start using heroin again just to get away from myself.
But right now, the absolute fucking need to pull the trigger and kill the woman who'd captured my Knight’s heart was so strong, I could barely contain it.
My whole life, I’d never been good enough.
Not enough for the love of my parents.
Not enough for Knight to come back for me.
Not enough for Rook to run away with me.
And now, not enough for Knight to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. That he loved another woman.
The blood pounding from my heart drained to my feet, and my fingers trembled, and that's when I knew I'd officially lost it.
I never shook when I shot at someone. I'd worked too hard to get rid of my fear of killing.
Except this time, it wasn't in self defense.
My thumb flicked, almost of its own accord, clicking off the safety.
I loathed this plain, average woman. Fucking loathed her as I heaved, staring down at her, suspended in time as I tried to rationalize killing her.
Then…she moved.
It was nothing big.
A slight movement.
A shifting of her arm or something. Small but—enough.
I broke from my spell of rage and in shock at what I’d almost just done. I took a step back. Inhaling a sharp breath, I clicked the safety back on then heard another noise: footsteps, coming my way.
I swiveled, swinging the gun with me, pointing it towards the door. Fingers tingling, my heart raced.
The footsteps stopped, a shadow passed over the gap of the door, and silence descended on the room except for the soft breathing of the blonde woman below me.
Then, small fingers curled around the door.
Mind reeling, heart pounding in my ears as the door swung open, I jerked the gun into its holster, just in time as a small, girly voice called out, “Mommy?”
There was a roar in my ears as I stared at the little girl in front of me. Blonde, curly hair that stuck out everywhere, and bright blue, piercing eyes that widened when she saw me. She tucked a lock of her hair over her ear, assessing me with an intelligent look.
Then, “Who are you?"
The sound of sweet innocence pouring from that small voice killed something inside me.
I'd almost killed this little girl's mother.
I stood frozen long enough that she asked me again, this time her eyebrows furrowing.
“Tell me who you are.”
“I'm your mommy's friend," I whispered, not wanting to scare her or she'd probably wake up her mom.
Her eyebrows furrowed even deeper, whispering, almost to herself. "My mommy’s friend?”
She just stared at me for a long moment, still looking confused, then after a long time, she shrugged. “Okay. Wanna see my elephants?"
“Yes," I breathed out in relief.
She held her hand out to me and I, tentatively, took it. We walked out of the room and down the hallway. “Do you know how long elephants can hold their breath underwater?"
“I know a human that can hold his breath for four minutes."
“Yeah, but elephants can hold theirs for two hours,” she scoffed, opening her door. When we stepped inside, I was overwhelmed with elephants.
They were everywhere.
Big ones, small ones, medium sized ones. Some were statues or pictures on the walls, but mostly they were stuffed animals. All neatly organized, lined up on her white princess bed, then trailed down onto the floor.
“Wow, you have a lot of elephants.”
“I know.” She let go of my hand and pointed towards a Batman beanbag placed in the corner of the room. "Sit over there.”
I obeyed, curious what would happen next.
I'd never been around young kids. Not even when I was a kid, and especially not as an adult. I had no idea what they said, did, or thought about.
She went to a small table at the foot of her bed where there were two chairs. One of the chairs had a large, stuffed elephant in it. She scooted aside the other one and picked up a dainty, white teapot. She held it to me, showing me the yellow daisies on it. “Would you like some tea?”
“Um, yes?”
She nodded seriously, and began pouring fake tea into little cups.
"What's your name?" I asked.
She looked up at me, her hands stilling, then methodically put down the teapot and cup. Grabbing her cute pink nightgown with purple ribbons, she curtseyed. "I'm Honey Ashlyn. My grandpop named me after his orange grove farm in Florida.” She lowered her voice to whisper conspiratorially, “He also had beehives.”
“I see,” I nodded, “Nice to meet you, Honey. Isn't it a little bit late for tea?"
She scowled at me, picking the teapot back up again and shook her head. “Mommy says I can have one cup if I wake up at night and can't go back to sleep." She shot me an accusatory glance. “And you woke me up.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled before her little feet padded over to me. She held out a cup. "Take this."
I took it and she stared at me, her little eyebrows raising in anticipation. When I didn’t do anything but stare at it, she exclaimed, “You're supposed to drink it!”
“Oh!" I put it to my lips, panic beginning to settle in. For fucks sake, what was I going to do now? Sit here and drink pretend tea the rest of the night?
“Mmm,” I took a pretend sip, "It's delicious."
Her face lit up and a smile broke out over her face. "Thank you.” She padded back over to the table and began to pour more cups, handing out the extras to the two GI Joe dolls sitting on top of the table. “Do you think humans feel more pain than elephants?”
“I don't know much about elephants.”
“Hmmm,” she shot me a look of disapproval. “Well elephants can feel. A lot. And they have great memories.”
“Really?”
“They can remember where their mommies die, and will visit them, even years later. They run their trunks over the bones and everything. Sometimes they cry.”
“Wow,” I was fully invested in her narrative now, “with tears and everything?”
“Yes.” She nodded knowingly, taking a tepid sip of her tea, then looked up at me with big eyes. “Do you ever cry sometimes?”
My lips parted in surprise and I could only stare at her, not knowing what to say. Finally, after a long, drawn out moment, I nodded. “Yes. Sometimes.”
“Yeah,” she frowned, “me too.” She took another sip, and a silence fell between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, I think I was slowly falling under this little girl’s spell.
"Well, it's time for you to go." Suddenly, she stood, placing her cup on the table with a thunk .
I awkwardly climbed out of the beanbag chair. "Okay.” Thank god. “Thank you for the tea."
"You’re welcome," she yawned, climbing into her bed. As soon as she was under her covers, she turned to me. “Do you even like elephants?”
“I do.”
“I knew it.” She beamed at me. “I knew I was going to like you,” she grabbed a bunch of stuffed animals and arranged them around her, “from the second I saw you next to Mommy with that gun.”
What?! I almost choked on my spit. Shit, shit.
I didn’t move, feeling my pulse in my throat, but she didn’t act as if she’d revealed anything big.
Instead, she yawned, closing her eyes and squirmed until she was buried in a pile of soft elephants. She was quiet for a moment, then, “I remember where my mommy almost died, too. But I never want to visit that place. I think humans remember pain different than the way elephants do.” She turned her back to me. “Good night.”
I stood there for a long moment, not moving. The room grew silent as I stared at her in awe, wholly and completely affected by this intelligent, knowing, but sweet girl. It didn’t take long before I heard her heavy, even breathing.
After what felt like forever, I finally turned away and slipped from the room, guilt pouring through me with the knowledge that I would be the source of more pain for her.