Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
ERASER
Heat licks my lips as I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. Rich earth and the addictive sting of menthol burn my lungs. It does little to curb my irritation, but not much has since this bitch entered my life.
Once this is done, once I have my money, she’s gone. I don’t need or want her fucking bullshit. Bitch has been more of a headache than anything else.
Rocks and pine needles crunch beneath my boots as I pace the length of the cabin. The only light for miles glows through the curtain-covered window, another reminder of why I am done with this cunt.
Nothing like an addict roping her kid in to pay her debt. Fucking soulless trash human. I have nothing against kids. They just aren’t something I want in my life. I double wrap my dick for more than one reason, but knocking a bitch up is the first.
My parents weren’t bad people. I had everything I needed as a child—food, shelter, clothes, affection. But that is all I had, and by the time I realized more existed, I owned several bully-inflicted mental scars.
The first opportunity I had to earn money, I took it. Sold anything and everything to make a buck. Skunk, ice, downers, uppers, televisions, laptops… the list goes on. Once I was more established , I upped my game. Pharm parties and making my own product.
Stacks of cash crowd my safe; I have everything I’ve ever wanted. And I love my fucking life.
This bitch, though… I will slit her fucking throat if she robs me of it.
I storm toward the cabin, climb the steps, and dig out the slip of paper in my pocket. Pushing through the door, I swipe another burner phone from the table, dial the number written on the paper, and bring it to my ear.
The desperate idiot on the other end answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
Eyes averted from the bitch that got me in this mess, I pace the cabin. “You got my money?”
Shuffling sounds in the background on his end. “Most of it. Can’t exactly go to the bank on a Sunday night.”
“I don’t give a fuck what day or time it is. You want to see your kid again, get the fucking cash.”
“Let me see he’s okay. Send a picture.” His breath grates the phone mic. “Please.”
I scoff. “Did I give the impression I play by anyone’s rules other than my own?”
“One picture and I’ll get your money.”
“Train yard in one hour. Come alone. If you don’t, the kid dies.” I drop the call.
The current bane of my existence crosses the cabin and blocks my path. “What did he ask for?” She tries to put her hands on me, but I step back out of her reach.
“Does it fucking matter?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I know him. All he wants is Tuck.”
I eye the kid curled in on himself on the bed. If I had feelings, he’d have my sympathy. No doubt this bitch has scarred him for life. She’s probably screwed over everyone who’s met her.
Gripping her jaw, I lean in and drop my voice. “Don’t care what he wants, Cook. Right now, all that matters is what I want.” Lifeless eyes stare back at me as I tighten my grip on her face.
“I know.” Her eyes dart to the boy, then meet my gaze. “All I’m saying is if he asked about Tuck, he’ll get the money faster if you give him whatever it is.”
Shoving her away, she falls to the floor. I curl my lip at her, hold up a hand, and pinch my thumb and forefinger close together. “I’m this fucking close to paying off your debt with my blade. Don’t push it.”
I’ve considered dropping her off in the middle of nowhere once I have my money. But she will just make someone else’s life hell. No one needs her brand of insanity.
So once this is over, I’ll take the scenic route home. Find a dark, desolate stretch of land and pull over. Then, I’ll erase her from the world.
Moving toward the bed, I tap the camera icon, lift the phone, and snap a picture of the kid. Opening a new text, I type in the man’s number, add the photo, and hit send. Then, I drop the phone and smash it with my boot.