Chapter 2
Two
Nicolas
The door slams shut behind me as I walk back into my house.
Locking the door, I grab the clean knife from the end table and trudge down to the basement steps.
The man tied to the chair is mumbling against the tape and trying to break the zip ties with his hands as he rattles the chair.
His face is dripping with sweat, and his shoulder is bleeding from where I shot him.
If I wanted to kill him, I would have, but I have other plans.
Shaking my head, I click my tongue. “I’m having to deal with way too many problems today.” At least the wannabe sheep herder was kinda cute, in an awkward and oddly annoying way. He was also, without a doubt, in over his head. Maybe I should gift him the book, Farming for Dummies.
The man rocks the chair back and forth, his screams muted against the makeshift gag. “You’ve been snooping around the wrong house, pendejo. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me why.”
Using the knife, I slip it under the gag and rip it free from his mouth. His lip bleeds and he whines from the cut I left behind. “I won’t tell you shit.”
Wiping my knife on the front of his shirt, I click my tongue. “Wrong answer.”
“What are you going to do? Cut me again?”
Sliding my knife back into my pocket, I shake my head.
“No. I’d rather do something you don’t expect.
Besides, you’re looking a little thirsty.
” I press my foot on the center of the chair and push until he falls to his back.
He yelps, wiggling against the restraints again. “Fuck. My head. I think it’s bleeding.”
“Don’t worry. Not only will I give you something to drink, I’ll also help you rinse off.”
“Fuck you,” he shouts as I run back up the stairs. I grab a towel, a tie, and a bucket before returning back to where my intruder is. The floorboards creak as I run down the steps and they shake beneath my feet.
Loud tortured moans have me picking up my pace with the need to make them louder. He’s not where I want him to be yet—overcome and choked with fear. “How about we have that drink now.”
Tossing everything to the floor, I grab the tie and wrap it around his eyes as he shakes his head. I fill the bucket with water at the sink attached to the back wall and toss the towel over his face.
“I don’t know anything. I promise. I was only fucking with you before.”
I inhale a sharp breath between my teeth and rest my foot on his chest, earning me a groan.
“I don’t believe you.”
“No. Wai—”
His words are cut off by the water falling over his face. Lifting the bucket, I wait for him to say something again, and when he doesn’t, I let the water spill forward.
Struggling to breathe, he shakes his head and spits water around the towel. Bending down, I lift it from his mouth. “Ready to tell me who sent you?”
“No one. I came alone. I followed you after you killed one of my friends.”
“What friend?”
“Jacob Forester.”
“How do you know him?”
He hesitates as if trying to come up with some bullshit answer. “We go to church together.”
Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Jacob wasn’t religious, and he sure as hell would’ve burned if he took one step into any church.”
Not satisfied with the answer I’m given, I waterboard him again and he gurgles, making choking sounds.
“Ready to tell me how you really know that name?”
“If you’re going to kill me, do it already.”
“Oh, I am, but it’s up to you whether it’ll be quick or last days.”
As I’m about to tip the bucket again, he lifts his head and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “David Forester.”
“Come again?” I set the bucket on the ground.
“He’s Jacob’s brother. He sent me to kill you.”
He sent a fucking amateur. They always do. His brother deserved to die, and if he’s into the same shit then he does too. No, I’m not a saint. I’ve done awful things, but even I have lines I won’t cross.
“Good. Since you held up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine.
” Placing the barrel to his temple, I pull the trigger.
As the bullet plunges into his head, blood splatters everywhere.
Only a few drops land on my jacket, and I toss it to the floor, planning to burn it with his clothes and body.
My brother owns a funeral home, and it often makes my cleanup easy.
He cremates the bodies and I spread the ashes into different graves the night before the burial services.
Sometimes even in their loved ones’ backyards if they deserve it.
Leaving the body where it is, I set the bucket in the sink before going back upstairs.
I close the basement door behind me and set my gun on the counter.
Turning on the faucet in the kitchen, I wash my hands while glancing out the window.
Something runs by as quick as lightning.
An animal perhaps? Before I can question it again, two more black objects zoom by, followed by a white spotted pig.
Flapping my hands in front of me, I wring them out in the sink before grabbing a napkin. This new neighbor is going to be more of a problem than I thought. When the hell is his brother coming back, and why the hell would he leave this clueless city boy in his place?
I change my shirt in case any blood got on it and set it in a bag to go in the burn pile. After I throw on a different jacket, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and walk outside.
Squealing comes from the side of the house, and when I’m close enough, I reach for one of the piglets, managing to wrap my hands around the smallest one. “Got ya, you little fucker. Time to go back home.”
Stomping my feet forward, I march over to the guy next door and bang until he answers.
He’s so overwhelmed at the thought of losing more animals, for a minute I think he’s going to pass out.
Not only does he have hay in his hair and dirt smeared on his chest, but he’s wearing fewer clothes than before.
His arms are as scrawny as I expected, with various tattoos covering a lot of areas of his skin.
He has more than one on each arm but not enough to be considered sleeves.
Birds, smaller hearts going into larger hearts, random names, wings and other objects I'm unable to make out without looking too hard.
The faces he makes when he’s in distress are adorable, and I’m finding it to be a real struggle to be as angry as I want to be.
After seeing what a hot mess he is, I offer to help him find the rest of his pigs and take them back to where they belong.
Luckily, he doesn’t keep me waiting, and after returning the first pig to its mom he comes rushing toward the house as fast as his long legs will carry him.
He definitely has never been on the track team, and I highly doubt he’s played sports of any kind.
Out of breath, he leans forward and presses his hands to his knees. “Okay, I’m here. Where should we look first?”
Twisting my lips, I point toward my garden. “They’re having a little nibble on my tomato plants.”
“Fuck. That’s—shit. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”
I eye him curiously, something dangerous stirring inside me. “Oh, I’m sure you will, and you can start by grabbing one while I get the others.”
Nodding, he slowly creeps toward the garden, and the white pig is too busy gobbling up a tomato vine to notice his temporary owner behind him.
Throwing himself forward, he lands on the ground and grabs the pig by the legs, scaring the other two off in the process.
I curse to myself on my way to chase after them.
“I should probably have gone first,” I mumble, snatching a pig up from the ground as fast as I can. It takes a little longer to catch the second one, and carrying two is definitely a challenge, especially when having to walk some distance with both in my arms.
“You’ve done this before.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Si, and you clearly haven’t.”
“That’s the first time they’ve gotten out. So far only the sheep and chickens have been a problem.”
“You’ve been lucky then,” I quip.
“I have a feeling my luck is about to change.” Picking up his speed, he pushes his feet through the tall grass and doesn’t stop until we reach the pig pen.
We drop all the babies inside with the rest, and he reassures himself the fence is working by using a detector from his jacket pocket.
He’s careful to pull off the top of the fence before yanking the bottom out of the ground, almost as if he’s afraid of repeating a past experience.
I smile on the inside, wondering what it would have looked like to see him squirm at the surprise shock waves running through him.
“Will I be able to return to my work, or will you be disrupting it again? Are your chickens secured? Any hidden animals I should be expecting future visits from?”
“Animals must really like you. Maybe if you didn’t make your yard appear so appetizing they wouldn’t keep coming over.”
I roll my eyes. “Or maybe if you actually fed them on time, and enough, they’d have no reason to look elsewhere.”
“I’m not much of a morning person.” His face wrinkles.
How can another man be so damn cute and get under my skin at the same time?
He’s such a hopeless mess I can’t help but want to take him under my wing and guide him the right way while fucking him into the ground.
My gaze drops to his luscious ass. I haven’t had a chance to get a good look until now, and once I have a full view, I’m finding it difficult to pull away.
“Everyone’s a morning person when they have a good enough reason to be. ”
His eyes blink a few times. “It would have to be a really good reason.”
“You never know, the right one could come along soon.” Leaning in only inches from his face, I pluck a strand of hay out of his hair and pull back right as his lips are about to brush over mine. “I’ll see you around, sheep boy.”
“My name is Patrick,” he calls out to me as I turn around and begin walking away.