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“Randy is probably passed out by now. I can p-p-probably get my stuff before he wakes up. That’s what caused the fight to break out. He came back early and caught me packing. My bag is still in the floor by the b-b-bed.”
“Rylee, I know you don’t have a reason to believe me, but I’ll protect you. I promise. All you have to do is give me the address.”
She grudgingly gives me directions and we spend the short drive there in silence, but I can tell Rylee gets more and moretense the closer we get. As I pull into the graveled driveway of an old, weathered, gray single-wide trailer, I’m afraid she’s going to jump out.
“It’s okay, Rylee.”
She looks at me, but the hopelessness in her eyes nearly guts me. I find myself hoping this guy is awake so I can beat the shit out of him.
“This is a bad idea. Maybe I can—”
“It’s fine. You wait in the truck. I won’t be but a minute. Lock the doors, okay?”
“But—”
“It’s going to be fine. I just want you to feel safe.”
I reach under the front seat of my truck and pull out my pistol. I have a concealed weapons license. Although technically it’s not recognized in every state. I don’t really give a damn. I’m trained and safe with my gun. I wouldn’t even get it out now, but it seems circumstances call for it.
“Jeff, maybe we should just go. I don’t want you to—”
“Wait in the truck, Rylee.”
I get out and wait for her to lock the doors. When she does, I give her a reassuring smile and secure my pistol in the back of my belt and jeans. I walk up the front and bang on the door.
A man who looks to be in his forties opens the door. His salt and pepper hair is shaggy and in need of a wash. His white T-shirt is stained with filth and blood—probably Rylee’s blood. He’s got a beer belly and he’s double the size of Rylee—if not more. How such a sweet girl got involved with a bastard old enough to be her father that gets his rocks off hitting her is beyond me. I’m just going to make sure he never does it again.
“What the fuck do you want?” he growls, his words slurred.
“I’m here to get Rylee’s things,” I tell him, shoving an elbow into his gut. I go inside, not really wanting the girl to see moreviolence. I’m pretty sure she’s seen and had enough to do her a lifetime.
“You bastard,” the guy breathes, catching his breath while stumbling around to see me. “Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in my house and attacking me? Where is that little whore at?”
I don’t know Rylee, but the fact a man could beat her and spew such filth when talking about her breaks what thin leash I had on my temper to begin with. I plant my fist into the side of his face. He goes down with a thud, falling back against an end table and sliding across the scarred up brown linoleum.
“How does it feel to be the one who gets beat on for a change, asshole? What kind of piss-poor, fucking excuse for a human being spends his time beating up a girl who can’t hope to defend herself against you?” I snap, kicking the bastard as he tries to crab walk backwards to the table.
“I’m going to kill you,” he hisses.
“You’re not going to do shit. I’m going to get Rylee’s things and then I’m leaving. You will never look for her again. In fact, you won’t do anything with her. If I find out you laid one finger on her, I’ll come back here and end your miserable life,” I tell him, and I’m not bluffing. If anyone needs to stop wasting air, it’s this sack of shit.
“The bitch deserves everything I give her. What did she do? Did the whore spread her legs for you to get you to come and try and get rid of me? I hope she was a good fucking lay man, because when I’m done you will be six feet underground.”
I should have been paying attention. I let myself get carried away with anger and listening to his ugly words. I didn’t see him reach into the basket at the bottom of the end table and pull out a gun. He’s drunk so he doesn’t get it aimed right away. I reach back and get mine, slipping the safety off as I draw it out of my belt. My heart is thundering. This isn’t how I meant for things togo down. The steel of the gun feels heavy in my hands. Blood is roaring in my ears like a raging river.
“You don’t want to do this, man. Don’t make a bad mistake end in a worse one. Give me Rylee’s things and I’m out of here.”
“You can go fuck yourself!” he yells, cocking the gun.
I don’t think. I just react. I shoot him right between the eyes. The man’s head goes back instantly as blood splatters out.
“No!” the girl cries out, standing at the door.
“Is there a phone in here?” I ask, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the man I just killed.
“Y-y-yes. Why? Why did you do that? Oh God…”
“Call the law. Get them out here,” I tell her, sitting down in a chair. I put the gun on the arm and notice a pack of smokes and lighter. I take one out and light it, realizing my hands are completely still and calm—despite everything that just happened.
“No. You need to leave. They’ll arrest you if you don’t. I can say I didn’t see who did it and they’ll never even know you were here. You can get away. You need to leave,” she basically pleads.
I look at her and shake my head no.
“Call the law, Rylee,” I order her, taking a drag off the cigarette, enjoying the rush of nicotine. “Your nightmare is over.”
I don’t tell her mine has just begun.
