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Then he made a grave mistake.
He twisted around and lookeddirectly at her.
His eyes took in her body and decidedto claim it as his.
I told him not to look or think about her.
He disobeyed.
I looked to the dark sky above and adjusted my hat. Then, I looked back at her. She was trembling, her arms wrapped around herself.
Her green eyes met mine and I said, “Baby, close those eyes for me.”
“Den—”
“Close ‘em, baby,” I demanded gently. When she did, I fired my gun, staring at her as I did it. She let out a yelp with each shot.
One.
Two.
Three.
The gunshots echoed out through the night. It was late, and even though it was Saturday, this town was a quiet one. I looked back at the man, who was now slumped against the brick wall, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyes were still open, staring at her. I hated knowing that the last thing he ever saw on this Earth was her beauty. Men like him didn’t deserve to see beauty like hers.
“Fucking hell.”
I didn’t move. I knew that was Beau. He must’ve followed me into town, his father probably called him because he knew I would need backup.
That old man knew blood would be spilled tonight.
“Jesus, boss—”
“Burn it,” I ordered, looking over at him.
He stood at the end of the alley in jeans, a Carhart jacket, and his cowboy hat. Even though I couldn’t see in the shadows, I knew his blue eyes were on her. He had been kind to her, spoke to her, made her fucking laugh. All I’d done was scared her and insult her. She still had her eyes closed; her head bent in fear and submission.
“Call the twins andburnit,” I said, my voice low as he walked closer. I could see him now, his eyes on the body of the man who touched something he shouldn’t have.
Beau’s jaw tightened as he looked away from the body. “Got it.”
“Get it done. I’ll call the sheriff,” I said, holding his stare.
“He isn’t going to like this,” Beau noted.
“Don’t give a shit. It’s one less problem we gotta worry about and his hands stay clean,” I bit out. He nodded and got to work.
I moved to her, ignoring the sounds of the dead weight being shifted behind me. Her shirt was crooked, her hair everywhere, and her jeans were unbuttoned. Her face was red, cheeks wet with tears.
“Look at me,” I demanded. My body was humming with rage, and I was trying to tone it the fuck down to be gentle with her. She needed gentle. I needed more blood, more screams. I wished I could bring the fucker back to life and take my time, torture him, make him scream like he wanted to make her scream.
Her head snapped up, green eyes on me.
“Stay lookin’ at me.”
She did as I told her, and my hands drifted down. I righted her shirt ignoring the burn that her skin left on mine, and pulled her hair over her shoulders so it was flowing down her back again. Then my hands went lower as I buttoned her jeans gently.
The whole time she kept her eyes on me. When I was done, my hands immediately dropped away.
