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Like a pack of predators, we move as one. I know Hobo’s movements like he senses mine. We’re linked up after decades of brawling together.
Hobo wraps his arms around Jimbo in a bear hug, yanking him from a crouching position. I shove a rag deep into Jimbo’s mouth as he opens it to call out.
My knife enters Jimbo’s chest, just above Hobo’s hold. We move together back into the dense woods. I tug the blade out just enough to twist and shove it back inside. I feel a rib give way under my assault. Jimbo’s heavy coat soaks up the blood as we move toward the cave.
Men die in different ways. Some will quickly give in to their fate. Others fight tooth and nail to live. If I’m in my berserker mode, I don’t care either way. But killing a man up close and quiet feels raw when I can feel his panic.
Jimbo doesn’t go down easily. He struggles against Hobo who mercilessly drags him into the darkness. I see him choking on the rag still jammed in his mouth. My glove comes up wet and hot from his blood. When our gazes meet, I see rage and hate but also fear and longing.
Jimbo doesn’t understand why this is happening any more than he did when the class ganged up on him in gym. He’s the hero of his story. He shouldn’t die in the dark, screaming against a dirty rag.
His fear doesn’t affect me. I know he’d show no mercy to Irina as she begged for her life. His large hands would make quick work of his younger sister’s fragile body. I offer him the same lack of pity when I jam my knife deeper and upward.
In the day’s failing light, I watch Jimbo die with a shocked look on his face. A wave of relief washes over me when I know he’ll never hurt anyone again.
As soon as the asshole stops fighting, we start the process of wrapping up his body to prevent him from bleeding all over the cave.
I crush his phone under my boot and shove it into his pocket before he’s fully covered. After Jimbo’s cocooned in the tarp, we remove any signs of violence from the cave and woods.
McMurdo Valley’s cave system is filled with many club enemies whose bodies we never want found.
Today, Hobo and I drag Jimbo’s body deep down to where we can barely move forward. Shoving him into an opening to depths unknown, we crawl back out before the claustrophobia swallows us.
The light is gone outside, and the moon is hidden behind clouds. I don’t know if I’d be able to find my way out of this area without Hobo’s help. It’s been a long fucking time since I lived in the woods with him. Back then, my mom’s death nearly destroyed everything good inside me.
Irina’s arrival in my life sparked a fire where I’d long gone cold. Tonight, I removed a major obstacle to the future my woman and I deserve.
IRINA
Agloominess hangsover the Rogers estate after Jimbo doesn’t show up for dinner. I’m unsure what the big deal is since he’s a grown man and it’s one meal. Apparently, his phone was also turned off, something he never did.
Security shows up the next morning to search the guesthouse. We watch them go from room to room, checking closets and under beds. If I weren’t worried about Fiona, I’d find the situation ridiculous. Jimbo is over six feet tall. What are the chances he’s under one of our beds? The security men were clearly going through the motions to look busy.
Not long after they leave to search another location, a likely high Larry bullies his way into the guesthouse to accuse Fiona of plotting against him.
“You whore!” hollers the raging monster. “Ever since you got here, shit’s gone to shit! I bet you used your pussy to bribe one of the security guys to kill our brother!”
