Chapter 43
NOAH
Every ounce of hate I’ve ever felt funnels to my chest, pounding in a lethal succession. I wanted to be a good man. I really did.
But her dog is dead. My face is plastered all over the TV.
And this fucker is not about to ruin what’s left for us.
But don’t lose it, Noah. Not yet. Just wait.
The clicking of Buster’s nails on the hardwood grows louder, echoing down the short hallway. The massive fluffy farm dog trots right past the kitchen and turns the corner into the spare bedroom.
He stops dead in his tracks the second he sees me standing in the shadows. The fur on his spine stands up, and a low, rumbling growl vibrates in his chest.
“Buster, what did I tell you?” Bill’s gruff voice complains from the hall. “Get out of there. You need to go back outside!”
The dog doesn’t move. He barks a sharp warning at me.
Don’t attack me, Buster. Your master is a piece of shit. You gotta know that.
“Dammit, dog,” Bill snaps, his heavy work boots thudding against the floorboards as he steps into the doorway of the bedroom. “What the hell are you—”
He doesn’t even have a second to process my face.
I launch myself out of the shadows like a loaded spring. I don't use my fists; I use my entire body weight, moving through him. I slam into Bill’s chest, my good right arm wrapping like a steel vice around his throat before he can even draw a breath to scream.
The momentum carries us backward into the hallway. We crash to the hardwood floor with a bone-rattling thud.
Bill is a big man, thick with farm muscle, and he fights back instantly. He bucks wildly beneath me, his elbows swinging backward, catching me in the ribs. He reaches up, his thick fingers clawing frantically at my forearm, trying to break the chokehold.
Buster barks frantically, circling us, but the dog doesn’t bite.
I use my bad arm to complete the choke, bearing down and counting to eight. He’s going to go out. I know he will.
You learn things in prison.
And right at the eighth, Bill goes slack.
I release him immediately, the scent of his body odor and the piss he just filled his pants with making me nauseous. “Okay,” I breathe out, my heart still thumping steadily in my chest. “There’s that.”
“Oh my god,” Rue stands in the doorway. “Did you just kill him?”
I raise a brow, surprised by my own smile. “No, he’s just taking a nap. It won’t last. He’ll wake up.”
Rue nods and looks at the dog, who’s peering up at her, no longer barking. “Your owner is a bad man.” Her voice takes a dip. She reaches her hand out for him to sniff, and he does, his tail wagging.
The dog then promptly heads for the back door, whining.
“Let him out,” I instruct Rue, the scent of urine wafting through the hallway. “I need to go through his pockets.”
Rue nods and follows orders. I hold my breath and reach into his back pocket, leaving his phone, but fishing out his wallet. I flip it open as a door slams in the background, frown at his driver’s license, and then pull apart the big pocket.
Bingo. I take the wad of cash, but as I pull it out, a piece of paper falls from the compartment, fluttering to the floor.
Rue reappears and beats me to it, plucking the paper up off the floor. She shudders, dropping it like it’s possessed. “Don’t… I can’t… Gross.” Her face pales as she steps back, covering her nose.
“What?” I scoop it up, see the image printed on paper, and am instantly aware of what Bill did while he went camping.
And my boot collides with his fucking face, bloodying his nose.
“Did you finish checking his pockets?” Rue asks, completely unfazed by my reaction. “Is that all there is?”
I turn to her. “I thought you were against stealing?”
“Not from a pedophile,” she huffs. “Fuck him.”
“Yeah, fuck him,” I repeat, letting out a laugh that feels foreign.
She gestures to his hip. “He carries.”
I adjust to peer down at him from the angle she’s looking, and sure enough. There’s a fucking holster on his hip. “Huh. Glad he didn’t get a chance to use that on me. Very Texas of him, huh?” I reach down and detach it from his belt, careful not to get human piss on my fingers.
I hand it across to her. “Here. I’m going to grab our shit.”
She nods and then undoes the holster, staring at the revolver. “Odd choice for self-protection. My dad always said revolvers weren’t worth it.”
“Odd observation,” I say, stepping over Bill.
However, as I do, his hand juts out to catch my ankle. I trip forward, catching myself on the wall.
Fucker came back quick.
I extend my knee in a quick motion, my heel connecting with his chest. He grunts, but then goes with a second hand, grabbing my calf. “Fuck!”
But a piercing blast drowns out my voice. And another. And another.
Holy fucking shit. What did she just do?
Bill’s grip drops. And I spin, my ears ringing as Rue stands over Bill, the revolver in her hands, steady at his gut. The man groans painfully, blood gurgling in his throat.
“Fuck, Rue—”
Pop. She pulls the trigger again.
“Rue.”
Pop. There goes a fifth.
“Back up,” she grits out, not even looking at me. “I only have one more shot.”
“What the fuck—”
Pop. The final shot rings out and puts a .45 caliber hole right through Bill’s neck. I stand there, the scent of burning gunpowder and flesh joining the urine smell in the hallway.
“Okay,” I breathe out, straightening my shoulders. “Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Let me have that.”
Rue’s eyes jump from the bloodied, lifeless body of Bill to my face, wide and feral. “I couldn’t see anything but those fucking pictures when I looked at him. And then he… touched you. He fucking touched you.”
I nod, gently taking the Colt .45 from her. “It’s okay. Well, now… Now no one will ever have to, uh, worry about that anymore.”
“Yeah, for sure.” She wipes a spray of blood from her face. “But what should we do now? Bury him?” Her eyes jump to me. “He’s way too big to use a shovel. I don’t think he deserves that, either.”
I purse my lips, slightly unsettled by the ease in her tone—but also slightly in awe as well. “Let’s clean ourselves up first.”
“And just leave him here?”
“I mean, as long as no one heard the shots…” My voice trails off as that reality crushes my chest. “We should be able to just clean this up, and we don’t have to leave.”
“True,” Rue nods. “We could put him in the freezer. I saw one in the barn.”
I tilt my head at her. “Why would we want to preserve his body?”
“I wonder if he had any family,” Rue frowns, staring down at him. “I bet they didn’t like him, if he did.”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to conjure up anything else, other than my woman might have completely lost her fucking mind.
But the thought is drowned out by the startling sound of a phone ringing.