Seven Sunsets (2 page)

“The money’s gone. I thought things had changed,” Emery’s voice was so small, sounding so far away. I had to remind myself what a good actress she could be.

“No, baby. The deal’s on. You paid me to kill you whether you’re sure or not now. And you’re mine to fuck until I kill you.”

“And if I change my mind?” She didn’t sound scared enough.

“I can’t let you go now. You fucking killed my friend, bitch.”

Emery snorted. “That old whore had done you dirty and was going to turn me in.”

“But you want to die.”

“Not by the hands of Manul. He won’t kill me anyhow. He just wants to fuck me again.”

Again
, what the fucking hell? The red I’d seen turned black. I got up, throwing her on the bed, falling on her, trapping her down as she fought. “I’m going to ask you one last time who the fuck you are, then I’m going to fuck your brains out ‘cause you’re mine now.”

“Get off of me you big fucking dick.” Emery pushed at my chest and scratched my face, drawing blood.

I hauled back and slapped her hard, making her howl and cry. She held her face, but I seized her hands and held them away, making her look at me. My face inches from hers, I demanded, “Who the fuck are you and what do you want with me and mine?”

“You’re no different than Manul, wanting every woman to be your damned whore.” She butted her head up, conking me on the forehead.

Fuck! I closed my eyes for a moment but didn’t let go of her. “No different than Manul, huh?” I held her tiny hands together above her head in only one of my hands and slapped her cheek again. Next, I yanked down her leather pants as she fought, tugging them down past her ass but no farther. Worming my fingers between her taunt thighs into her warm, soaking wet pussy, I stroked her clit with my thumb. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy fucking me, your wet pussy don’t lie. Did you enjoy Manul’s fat dick too?”

Letting go of her hands, but securing her with my body covering hers, I undid my belt and unzipped my pants, freeing my throbbing cock. I pressed it between her inner thighs, since her legs couldn’t spread much. Memories of fucking her the last few days flooded my mind and flowed to my thick shaft, hardening it even more. I wanted to take her violently like the fucking storm that brewed inside me while she still fought, whether she wanted it or not. “You’ve been lying to me. Tell me why I shouldn’t just take what’s mine?”

“I’m not yours,” she seethed between clinched teeth.

“Yes. You. Are,” I grunted, driving my cock into her slick pussy with every word, plummeting deep inside of her. Emery had been fighting, but she was wetter than an otter’s pocket. “You’re mine whether you say so or not, your pussy says fuck me,” I said, my voice husky, as I stilled for a moment while she relaxed around my dick and stopped struggling. “You can’t tell me you aren’t loving this.”

I saw the predatory look creep up on her face as she turned from innocent to naughty and knew I was right. That didn’t lesson my force as I continued fucking her. Studying her swollen lip and bruising cheek, I saw her watery brown eyes begin to roll back in her head as I pounded into her with the force of all my frustration. She’d killed my family. Shirley was my family, even if she hadn’t been acting like it.

Emery was chewing on her lip, and soon her moans were echoing my own grunts. I stretched up her red tube top, releasing her curvaceous breasts, stroking them as I slowed my pace. Kissing the crook of her neck, I remembered how she’d made me feel in front of the fire, like we were making love. Fighting the urge to kiss her mouth, I told myself that Emery was the fire, alluring, mesmerizing, seemingly harmless unless you got too close. She’d warmed my frozen heart, but had burned down my damn house too.

Not about to get scorched again, I pulled my dick out of her and flipped her over, entering her pussy again swiftly before she could protest—not that I thought she wanted to get away now. She was loving it, arching her back as I thrust into her swollen cunt from behind. Clutching her titties, squeezing her nipples, I thought about her lies with every thrust, thrashing harder and harder until I felt her spasm around me. Then I was coming deep inside of her with a shiver.

I drew out of her but didn’t let her up. I needed answers and would have them. She’d been fucking the fucking mob boss too? I spoke right in her ear. “I thought you’d said it was only me and your husband?”

“You mean what I told that whore Kym?” Emery laughed. “Yeah, I thought we were pretending.”

“So, you coming clean with me now?” I let her roll over, but she was still under me.

“What do you want to know?” She asked, but her pursed lips let me know she didn’t want to talk.

What the fuck did I want to know? I almost laughed out loud. Emery had said she was fucking the head of the Armenian Mafia, the man Shirley had hired me to kill’s boss. Amun had been after Emery too and now there was a price on her head for a hundred grand. The Miami Mutherfukers wanted to turn her over. Dirty Sanchez, their president would be hunting us down for offing his men before too long. The Heelz would be calling the General first to rat me out, then coming to kill me as well. “You better tell me everything. What are your ties to Manul?”

“He’s my stepdad.”

“What the hell?”

“It’s complicated. I told ya.”

Emery slipped away during my confusion and disappeared to the bathroom.

After a good fuck, I’d just wanted to sleep. Emery hadn’t said anymore about her and Manul. If I talked to her anymore, I really would kill her, able to kill a woman or not. I put my temper to bed with me and couldn’t help but find comfort in her snuggled in the crook of my arm. We slept well past noon. She hadn’t run off either, obviously wanting to stick with me for some reason, but she didn’t know I planned to hand her over. I planned to keep it that way. There’s no use dragging a bitch kicking and screaming across the country.

Before we could leave Tallahassee, I had to buy a prepaid phone so I could get in touch with the General in Arizona. I’d trashed the one I’d been using when I dumped Shirley’s truck. Emery had come into Wal-Mart with me. She was pretty thrilled to let me buy her some underthings, jeans, a long sleeve shirt and some sneakers even if she was used to more high-end garments. We ate lunch at a local diner called Ruby’s so Emery could get breakfast, consisting of oatmeal and fruit, and I could have some fresh coffee and a cheeseburger. She changed in the women’s room, and came out looking more comfortable, having trashed the hooker clothes. I noticed she kept the diamonds.

“I was hoping you’d keep the leather pants.”

“They’re ripped,” she said, giving me a telling look as she sat down across from me.

Fuck, she’d enjoyed it. Her eye was swelling up, and I felt like a dick all of two seconds before I remembered how itchy her trigger finger was— hell, I needed to worry about her killing me in my sleep.

“So what’s the plan now that you don’t have your money?”

Stealing a glance around the diner, I saw we were practically alone. I could feel my brows draw together. “You don’t still want to die, do you?”

Emery shrugged her shoulders, looking away. “Not sure what I want anymore. I don’t want to go back to Manul, I’d rather die.” She glanced at me; her sweet eyes cutting through me, making me remember the first time I’d wished she didn’t want to die anymore. But that was history.

I closed my eyes. “I can’t let you leave. We had a deal. Anything I wanted until I killed you, but surely, that’s horseshit.” I studied her expression, wondering which Emery was with me now, the weak one or the strong one. I longed to see the fire behind her eyes. “You can’t want to die, and I’m not going to kill you unless you fucking try to kill me or if you run. You’ll have to go to California with me.”

“What’s in California anyway?” She asked, watching her own hand stir her tea.

“You could call it another job, and I need an accomplice, one that’s good with a gun.”

“Oh, need someone to keep your bitch seat warm?” She smirked, and my heart beat faster seeing her fierce side.

Then I thought, is that what she wanted from me? Did she want to be mine? I thought of our night in front of the fire again. But she hadn’t told me about Manul that night when she told me about what had happened to her husband. Why the hell would I buy that she wanted to be mine? Wishful thinking. I’d sure as hell play along though. I clutched her hand, then fingered the stitches I’d put in her wrist, saving her life just days ago. What a fucking mistake. “Yeah, I need you to keep other parts of me warm as well.”

Her chest heaved in a breath. “So what happens when we get to California?”

I gripped her leg under the table, way up on her thigh. “You keep up your end of the deal. I’ll let you walk…if you want.”

“And what’s the deal now?”

“Same as before except I’m not going to kill you.” I’d be cashing her in for my sister.

She half smiled, her fire going out. “Okay.”

I wanted to tell her it didn’t matter whether she agreed or not but I shut my mouth. The less she knew the better. When we walked out of the diner, I had my arm around her.

The wind in my face again, I thought about what I never want to.

Somewhere between Tennessee and Oklahoma

“We have to stop and eat. We all need to stretch.” My mama, having won the argument was the boss for the moment. My dad pulled our maroon Toyota over at a truck stop, but I could tell something was still wrong. I couldn’t quite tell if it was my own nerves about becoming a man with my mother’s family who I’d never met or my dad’s nerves I was sensing, but things were tense. That all changed after we ordered our food. My dad put his arm around my mama, whispering into her long dark hair that she was right. He apologized and she smiled sweetly, making everything right with my family again. We were all laughing. My dad was telling jokes and mom put a quarter in the jukebox to play some old song I hadn’t heard before and haven’t heard since. Halley was busy not eating as always, like a normal five-year-old, while I enjoyed getting pancakes in the middle of the day.

I’d gone to the bathroom. While washing my hands, all the good times of our meal went away as I wondered where they could be taking me. Would they be leaving me with mama’s family? Leaving me alone? How would these people be better than my own father? My thoughts now erratic, I started to get angry with my mother, suggesting my father somehow hadn’t been good enough, that I wasn’t good enough. I turned on the hot water, fogging up the mirror and drew the constellations I knew would be in the sky tonight. The little window over the commode fogged too, so I went over to trace another. When my finger touched the glass, I thought about going out of it, running away, but I was too scared to run. Maybe I wasn’t becoming very much of a man after all.

Knowing I’d taken too long, I went to the jukebox before going back to the table, so they’d think I’d been there all this time.

“Kathy,” a man called my mama’s name and my father stood up. I stopped and counted five greasy men wearing chains and leather surrounding my family. To me, the men looked like they’d stepped out of a movie. I turned my head to see their motorcycles out the window. The gleaming chrome and details of the engines caught my attention until I heard my father protest. Swinging my head, I saw a man had him with his arms pinned behind his back and my mother was face down on the table. They were lifting her shirt. Halley was screaming, followed by the waitress who’d brought our food. She ran toward the door. Gunshots fired, and the waitress fell dead. I could see her underwear. The other people in the diner dropped like flies with each boom. A grizzly of a man met my eyes, pointing his pistol at me. I put my hands in the air, automatically. His gun pointed elsewhere, killing an old woman about five feet from me. I slinked to the floor in shock, crawling under a booth.

Almost instantly, I heard another shot and saw my father on the ground. That’s when it finally hit me I had to do something. It had taken too long. My father was dead, and I wasn’t any kind of man at all. I don’t know how I got out of the booth, but I was standing behind a graying man, the man who had my mother by the hair. I kicked him and he turned around, my mother with him. Her eyes were stained with tears as she gave me a terrified look, whispering, “Run.” Before I could even make a move, the man pushed his blade in her neck way too easily as she screamed her last breath. He dropped her like trash. The blood turned her black hair red as the puddle of blood grew around her on the white tile floor. Helplessly, I watched the spark leave her eyes.

I saw the man’s scarred face up close as he picked me up as if I were nothing. The old man threw me on the table and yanked open my shirt, pressing his blade to my nipple. “Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with kid? I’ll gut you like a pig.”

“Go to hell.”

“Son, I am Satan. Welcome to hell.” The blade stabbed as I fought against the pain. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to picture my parent’s faces one last time, but all I could see was my mom’s pitch-black hair dripping red. All I could hear was her blood-curdling scream before silence fell and the life seeped from her eyes. “We’ll keep the girl.” I heard in the distance as my own life faded. Halley… my little sister’s name echoed through me, chilling me to the bone before all went black.

When I woke from the blackness, all I could think was I didn’t want to die. And about Halley. Legs was with me. I learned soon the Gods were after the SOS that day and found me in the mess the bastard’s had left behind. Legs, a nurse when she wasn’t at the clubhouse, said the scarred graying man, Serpentine hadn’t cut deep enough to kill me right away, but I would have bled out. She’d sewed me up the best she could, saying I was lucky. The General took me in as his own, calling me lucky for the longest time until the day I got in my first fight. From then on, they called me Scar.