Primal Pursuit

I give him room to reclaim some semblance of—not dignity because I don’t fucking think he ever had that—but control.

“Fuck off.” It’s a half snarl, half sob, and I think it’s the best he can do. “I’m gonna finish the job. Kick that scrawny bitch’s ass out. Have a go at it first. Bet she loves it up the ass. Does she?”

“I don’t fuck and tell. But do you like it up the ass? Because I’m thinking this bat might fit. I’ll go in raw, lube-free. What do you think?”

Fear blooms in his eyes, but he holds his defiance. Hiseyes dart, though, like he’s looking for a way to escape. Stupid prick. He tries to stand straight. “You’re a fucking pansy.”

I just laugh. “Man, you do not understand insults. See, I’m trying really hard not to fucking shoot you dead. I don’t usually hand out my calling card for free. I get paid for hits.”

It’s in this moment I know only one of us will be breathing after this. I think I knew the moment I headed here, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“Tell me,” I ask. “Did you enjoy being bested by her?”

“She’s a little whore. How much does she charge? I figure you get her team banged, bat in her pussy, two cocks in her ass, one down her throat, and then use her for shitting and pissing on, maybe a punching bag, then she’ll be fucking cheap.”

“That’s some mouth.” I get out my gun and attach the silencer.

I’m not even sure he even registers.

“I’ll fucking fuck her dead, fuck her corpse, fuck?—”

I pull the trigger and shoot him. In the eye.

He drops.

Dead.

“Filthy, nasty fucker.” I kick him hard, something I never do. But I’m still not done even if the job is. There’s still something bubbling and frothing inside me.

I take the bat and beat the living, dead shit out of him.

His skull. His face. His arms. His fucking stomach. I’m just bashing and hitting, snarling with every blow.

This is for Rabbit. Every drop of blood I’m spillingand splattering against the walls is for her. And maybe a little for me.

What’s that stupid saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? I’m here, I’ve gone and done this gratis, so I might as well enjoy it.

When I’m done, I observe my handiwork as I take a few beats to catch my breath, to make sure I’m calm and rid of the rage.

I go through the house once more, robbing it to really set the scene, and on my way to the exit, I stop and look at the money. I grab it, beat the side table to pieces, and I walk out the back door, busting the lock as I go.

As I round the corner, I toss the bat and calmly walk out and in the other direction back to the car.

I turn on the radio and drive to my first stop, deposit the car in its safe place, and switch back to the black one. I strip off my clothes in the garage and change into jeans and a sweater. I clean the knife and drive back to Poppy’s place.

I’m at the stairs of her apartment building when I look across the street and nod at Maximo, who’s sitting in his vehicle pretending to read the newspaper. He starts his car and drives off.

I use her keys to get into the building and then her apartment.

Once there, I lean against the bedroom door where I find her still passed out on the bed. I close my eyes a moment and just settle.

I need…something, and I’m halfway to admitting that something is her.

Without a word, I open my eyes and cross toward her. Ibend down to breathe in her soft, evocative scent, letting the moss oak and pepper, leather and roses slip over me, calming me down deep, somewhere in my bones.

I let out a snicker. “What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter, straightening and heading off for the kitchen.

She has crap food. Ramen, pasta sauce and spaghetti, cereal, and cheap fucking whiskey that looks like it could strip paint.