Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dark
In the back of my father’s cleaning van, where all the dead fucks usually lie before being disposed of, I crouch next to Angel, ready to get this over with. I’m tired of waiting.
We turn onto the resort road, and as expected, a group of men stops us.
Dad casually rolls down his window. I palm my gun and make eye contact with Angel.
“You lost?” the dick outside the driver’s window growls.
“Oh. Sorry,” Dad lays the cluelessness on thick. “Is this…” He trails off and rustles around in the center console. It’s dark enough outside that these douchebags can’t see what Dad’s up to. He looks back at us. It’s quick, but his eyes flick from left to right.
Two other men. Gotcha.
The guy at the window bangs on the side of the van. “Come on, old man, I ain’t got all fuckin—” The douchebag’s words die as Dad whips his gun around and pulls the trigger.
Boom.
Down he goes.
As the shot sings a happy song, I throw open the back of the van and jump out with Angel on my six.
A van door knocks one man aside. Dad hangs out the driver’s side window and ends him with a quick one-two as we round the opposite side, where a dumbass in a suit two sizes too big runs backward, firing at us with comically bad aim.
Fuckin’ idiot.
To be safe, I duck down and wave for Angel to do the same.
He crouches, and I flatten myself on the gravel road.
The security dumbass pings the side of the van as he races into a field.
On my stomach, I aim and fire from under the vehicle.
My first shot hits his thigh. He collapses on his ass, and his beautiful howl of pain rings loud enough for half the world to hear.
We don’t bother to check on him or make sure he’s dead because he’ll bleed out soon enough.
Angel and I jump back into the van, and Dad takes off like a bat outta hell for the next set of fuckers a mile ahead. The van doors swing violently side to side, and Angel grabs the back of my jeans so I don’t fall out and wreck my pretty face as I reach out and slam them shut.
Sweat breaking across his forehead, Angel sprawls on the floor, and I step over him.
He slaps the side of my calf in commiseration, and we share a hopped-up-on-adrenaline smile and a short laugh.
This is what we live for. It’d be nice if we weren’t doing this shit just to get to our women.
Then we could milk it. Have a little fun.
“In a hurry, old man?” I huff, dropping my ass into the passenger seat as I finish catching my breath.
White-knuckling the steering wheel, Dad snarls at me. Blood’s dripping down the side of his door, onto his pants, and along his arm.
I need him not to be a bloody mess when he sees Kali, or she’ll worry, so I shove my arm in the back and snap my fingers.
“Hand me something to clean him up, will ya?” I ask Angel, who hands me a washcloth soaked in half a bottle of water.
It’s dripping when I toss it into Dad’s lap, and he wipes what he can, mostly smearing blood, but it works, sorta.
Slowing the van, he throws the rag in the back. “We’re gonna have a fuck ton of cleaning tonight, brothers.”
Angel crows, and I join him as I bang the side of my fist on the console.
Hell yeah, we are.
Let’s kill these motherfuckers.
Iris
Channeling Dee, I cover the bartender’s face and mouth with a towel and sink a kitchen knife into her stomach, over and over, trying to make it quick.
Kali showed her how to make a drink, sprinkled a little poison in it, and when the woman was going down, which didn’t take long, she shoved her into my laundry bin that I just so happened to be removing from the pool, full of wet towels to clean.
Now we’re in the industrial-sized laundry room, and I’m officially the worst version of Ghostface.
As the towels soak up her blood, turning them bright red, I try not to think about what’s actually happening.
That I killed someone.
With a knife.
At least she was mostly unconscious when the stabbing started.
She didn’t put up a fight.
Once the woman’s dead, dead, I toss even more towels over her to hide the evidence and shove the cart into the corner of the room.
Step one down, only a million more to go.
Before I leave, I drop the knife in the trash and rinse my hands in the sink.
The chorus of little girls’ screams has me racing back into the thick of this living nightmare.
Four men are doubled over, puking their guts up, grasping their throats as I enter the chaotic pool yard, where twinkle lights set the disgusting mood alongside the soft sounds of the ocean they pump through hidden speakers.
Bile rises in my throat as little girls and boys race to the far side of the pool area and huddle together as more men fall. Then a child. It goes on for what feels like hours, even though it’s not. I hide behind a potted tree as other employees race to help and try to figure out what’s happening.
Kali’s no longer behind the bar by the time a team of men in black tactical gear rushes in and splits into two groups.
The one corralling the kids and random young women into a nearby room is my sole focus.
I note the location as a nurse drops to her knees to tend to a man seizing on his pool lounger.
Part of me knows I should feel an inkling of sadness for these men, but I can’t seem to give a single fuck.
Not one. No sadness. No remorse. Only respect for Kali and her talents.
Talents that I hope, should we make it out of here alive, she will show me more of.
Sure, I’ve learned a lot about plants and their medicinal purposes over the years, but I’ve only ever wielded them as she does… once.
When I killed my father.
It was slow.
To draw out his pain.
He deserved every moment of agony. Every heavy breath. Every wide-eyed moment in panic.
He is the reason I never knew my real parents.
Why Dee is the psycho she is. Why I’m scarred and hate men the way I do.
Not that I don’t understand why he did what he did.
But had we been his children, born from him, and not soldiers he sought to corrupt, then maybe I’d have a semi-normal life.
Not one where I slept on a cot and stole to survive.
Not a life where I had to find a way to kill him, so he couldn’t use Dee for his bidding anymore.
The chaos ramps up as Kali’s poison takes man after man out.
When the clock above the bar hits midnight, I stick to the darkness and tiptoe to the empty bedroom from earlier to meet Sola and Kali as planned. They’re pacing when I arrive.
“Fuck,” Kali hisses, with a towel over her shoulders to cover her breasts as she stares at the ceiling, gripping her hair like she wants to rip it out by the roots.
Sola wraps her sister in a big hug, squeezing her tight, then waves me over. I awkwardly join in. My arms hang heavy over their shoulders.
“Give it time to work, okay?” Sola whispers, trying to sound supportive. “Now let me check in with Rot,” she adds, then disengages from us to do just that.
From a spot at the end of the bed, she tucks a flyaway curl behind her ear and, hunched over, mutters into the device. “Rot, are you there?”
Static screeches through the line before his voice connects. “They’re coming, Red.”
“Who is?” Sola asks.
“Everyone.”
“Are you coming too?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Soon.”
Great, that doesn’t tell us anything.
Still in my arms, Kali rests her head on my shoulder and sighs in emotional exhaustion. “I’m gonna kill my husband.”
I chuckle.
No, she’s not, but I get the sentiment. I’m pissed at Dark, too. It might not be the same, but this was nothing but a clusterfuck.
There’s yelling in the halls, and a sea of gunshots ring out.
Not knowing whether it’s our men or security, I push Kali into the bathroom and motion for Sola to join us. We lock ourselves inside and wait like a bunch of damsels in distress, and I hate it. Every second we’re sitting ducks, waiting… waiting… waiting.
From the floor, Kali closes her eyes and hums in meditation.
Right beside her, Sola stares at her lap and grips the black device like it’s her only lifeline.
And me?
Standing by the door, I bite my lip and listen.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Ugh.
Waiting.
Why is this taking so damn long?