Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Jackson
Ialmost killed her. Probably should have, but every time she says no, and every time she pulls away from me with that glare in between her eyes, the need to fuck her brains out takes precedence over anything else.
My cock twitches now just from my hand that’s wrapped around the back of her neck.
And it's taking everything in me not to lean her against a tree and fuck her into submission.
Why does her cunt have to be so goddamn tight?
But most importantly, why is her personality one that revives me?
I should never have stopped in her driveway.
Even with revenge so heavenly on my mind, the curiosity was something I couldn't ignore.
I've never met a girl quite like Madelyn. But even her differences aren’t something that will save her.
She's a distraction. One that I don't need.
One that I should never have started. Her moans pick at me and take away thoughts that are more important.
My brother comes first, and I need to act like it again.
After all, this was never supposed to be a happily ever after.
Not for her. Not for me. Or anybody. Madelyn sighs, breaking me from my thoughts.
Up ahead is the treeline, but even from here, I can see we are not alone.
Beside our car is an old green pickup truck.
Occupants’ unknown. I pull her behind me.
“We've got company. Remember the rules. You draw attention to yourself, to whoever's in that truck, they won't make it out.
I'll just throw them in the fucking lake.”
She mumbles something along the lines of “sick bastard” but stays put. I continue walking, focused on finding out who is in our presence.
Across the lake, a bald-headed old man drifts along in a boat, fishing pole in hand.
Back turned away from us, none the wiser of the dangers he could face.
I slink out of the woods to guide Madelyn back to the car.
She drops into the seat with a thud, automatically crossing her arms to cover her body.
Knowing already that she has nothing in her bag to worry about, I dropped it on her lap.
“Get dressed,” I order. “The red t-shirt and the jeans you got in there will do just fine.”
She looks up, glaring. “How do you know what I've got in my bag?”
“I already looked through it, little fire. All the time you were asleep, I couldn't very well let you carry a weapon in there without my knowledge, could I?”
Sulking, but saying nothing else, she goes and rummages through her bag while I locate my tossed-away clothes.
Grabbing my pants, I put those on and toss my shirt into the back of the car.
Looking up, I watch the old man to make sure he hasn't noticed us.
He flicks his wrist as he gets a bite on his pole.
How lucky he is. Fishing here was one of my pastimes, but now it is something else; my past precariously ruined.
Maybe I'll bring my brother out here and slit his throat.
Then I can fish again, knowing his rotting corpse is at the bottom. That would make me happy.
I feel her near me before she says a word.
Swooping in, she places herself beside me.
“Do you know who he is?” She asks cautiously.
I shift my attention to her. And while doing so, I take her all in again.
She's dressed just as I asked, minus a ponytail high on the back of her head.
God damn it. Just seeing it makes me want to snatch a handful of hair just so I can hold her down.
“No. Just some old man,” I say, trying to get back to the subject at hand.
Her eyes plead into mine as she waits for me to say more.
“He’s not a threat,” I push the words out. Not yet anyway.
Madelyn breathes a sigh of relief but continues to maintain eye contact. Her eyes narrow, searching for something she’s never going to find. There is no good in me. Every moment, I'm fighting against my desire to not cut open an unsuspecting fool. A person like me can be nothing but evil.
Her stomach rumbles breaking up the silence between us.
She shifts and puts her hands on her stomach.
Of course, she must be starving. I tense my jaw.
Hunger is something I've learned to live with; however, it seems I underestimated she would need more food than me.
As luck would have it, in the old man's truck, a cooler sits in the middle of the seat.
Probably worms in there, being that he's fishing, but if she's hungry enough, she'll eat it.
“Get back in the car,” I whisper, as I try to open the old man's door. Not locked. The door creaks as I open it, as I carefully and quickly snatch the door open. Dropping the cooler onto Madelyn’s lap, I slide into the front seat and crank the car up.
“We won't be stopping anywhere, so whatever's in there, either eat it or you go without.”
“What about you?” She asks while placing her hand on the lid.
“What about me?” I reply.
“Don't you want some?”
I tap my finger against the steering wheel to let out my nervous energy. She really has the audacity to care about me even after what I put her through. It makes no fucking sense and God damn it; that's the last thing I want. “I ate what I wanted, little fire.”
Pink spreads across her cheeks, and for a moment her lips purse.
I imagine that color as my paintbrush swipes against it, an ode to my former self.
Oh, what things I could have done to make her life even more of a beautiful creation.
But these days, the joy of painting eludes me.
Instead, I make my canvas everywhere, with people's blood splattered on the walls, on the sidewalk cracks, and on my own skin.
Madelyn's expression showcases glaring eyes, probably because I've looked at her for too long.
She opens the cooler without comment; however, she finds that luck was on her side.
Along with ice, there's a can of beer and two clear baggies that have sandwiches in them.
From the space that's left, I'm guessing the worms went with the old man.
I nod and put the car in reverse, accepting there won't be any entertainment from watching her eat.
Madelyn smiles between bites. “Pimento and cheese. One of my favorites,” she says, cramming the sandwiches in.
“How about that?” I respond, before pulling the car into the main road. I head toward my contact’s base. The place where I always go when things go to hell. And now, the place that I'll spend one last night with her.