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Brother Beau was the only one who stood up to them. I could use someone like him around, a male that is but I would need someone stronger, more fearless and violent, someone who could protect me and my farm and someone who isn’t afraid of anything. Not even criminals who look like hell itself spat them back out.
Letting go of the teat, I brush a hand over my forehead. I’m overheating. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about all the trouble I’m in and now it feels like I’m about to blackout. I do a deep inhale, before clasping my hands and I start pleading.
I plead to my brother wherever he is that he’ll send someone my way. Someone to help me in my helplessness. I yearn for a strong male. One who is big and mean and viciously violent, someone who won’t spare others out of the kindness of his heart but avenge me. An ugly man who knows nothing but rough treatment. I want him to be ruthless but not so ruthless he uses violence in front of me.
In front of me there can be no violence, I couldn’t handle it.
Licking my lips, I hope with all my heart my plea has been heard. Putting my hands back down in my lap, I tense when I feel something stroke the back of my neck. It’s like the wind just caressed me, trying to get my attention and I get goosebumps. The animals turn worried, trampling in place and they wouldn’t do that unless faced with a stranger. Gasping, I whirl around.
“Who’s there,” I demand to know and my voice is shaking. “Show yourself!”
Lifting my face, I stare in shock as a giant figure steps out from behind the stacks of hay and my heart volts in my chest. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and it nearly throws me off my stool. His hair is slicked back and the color of glaciers, his eyes polished topaz and shadowed with dark lashes. He’s wearing a black cloak over his dramatically powerful body and it makes him look like he’s surrounded by shadows. I gulp. As much of an effect his strong build has on me, it’s the face I fall for.
Those even, peaceful features... and I hold down a whimper. This man has the face of legends, of myths, of folklore so revered it has only ever been whispered and it captivates me so much that I reach out to touch it...
****
Revenge
Beauregard Bowen. If I had any kind of humor, I’d be laughing. What a name and I’m already brimming with annoyance. Hunting down people who owe us money is not how I prefer to spend my day but since I was the one who gave green light, it’s my responsibility to make sure the debt’s paid.
It should’ve been paid a week ago but I gave the bastard some extra time. Not out of any benevolence but because I don’t like the countryside. And this is deep, deep country and it took me over three hours to get here.
Turning off the slasher funk music, I get out of my car and slam the door before scanning the area. These lands look like they’ve seen better days. The house in the far back resembles a rusty lump of sugar, and don’t get me started on the smells...
Pulling my collar higher up to cover half of my face, I steer my steps toward the courtyard but stop in my tracks. It feels like I’ve just slammed my chest into a brick wall, when I catch a small figure briskly running around, feeding the farm animals and I can’t do anything but stare.
I’ve never seen hair like that. It shines like gold in the weak sun, framing soft and desirable features but she’s too far away for me to see her eyes. She’s not wearing any shoes and she’s dressed practically in rags; a flimsy white cotton dress that follows her body like a zealous admirer. My fingers twitch, from the need to slowly peel her out of that dress and put myself into her body as its new admirer.
She must be little Adelaide Bowen. Beauregard’s baby sister. She’s a little busy bee, never taking a breather or a break as if the responsibility of this whole farm is solely on her. It makes me want to yank Beauregard out of his bed or wherever he is and kick his ass for letting her work this hard.
It bothers me to hear her soft grunts when she’s lifting things too heavy for her, and she’s struggling so much that a fine sheen pops up on her buttery soft skin. Her mouth turns red from the furious bites she gives it and I want to put mine over hers and teach her to be gentle with those lips.
I forget why I’m here for when the girl disappears into the barn and I feel a cut in my chest. The sight of her has spoiled me; same as when I for the first time was gifted a weapon and didn’t want to do anything but to learn how to use it. I want to learn how to use her too. Learn what makes her tick and what a girl like her needs. Glancing up at the house, I ignore my duty for now and step into the barn, making sure I stay hidden behind stacks of hay.
The smell tickles my nose, forcing me to hold my breath because I don’t want the girl to see me. Incorruptibility seems to follow her like a cloud wherever she goes and there’s something so quiet about her, that I struggle to make myself less abrasive. As a karl in the Nordic Mafia I usually don’t have to worry about how I come across but then I’ve never been in the presence of someone like her.
For some reason she makes me self-aware, as if I need to make sure my weapons are well concealed under my clothes, my tattoos non visible and I pull the sleeves down. For her I’d like to be something else, something she can lean on without worrying she’ll get blood spatters on her perfect cheek. I watch her milk her cows and there’s so much wholesomeness in this scene that I feel like the wrong witness.
And she’s young, probably ten or slightly more years younger than me.
I rub a hand down my face, struggling to breathe and keeping my hands to myself. She’s the most inviting thing I’ve ever seen, from her subtle presence to that faint scent of daffodils from her perfume or soap or whatever it is. Dragging a deep inhale, she stops milking and suddenly she clasps her hands and starts asking her brother for someone to protect her and take vengeance.
Why is she asking...? I frown. Is Beauregard dead? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
For how long, how long has she been here all on her own? I almost sway as my head spins with fury. How the hell could he just leave her? I don’t give a shit about his death. It’s not an excuse. He should have made sure she’s taken care of, always...
My thoughts break when I pay closer attention to what she’s saying. She’s saying she needs a man, someone to take care of her and I fill with a territorial desire to be the one she needs. In my chest my heart gives a flutter when she suddenly turns around. Her eyes go big with fear and she demands I show myself.
Wanting her attention on me, I step out and I hold down a groan when her cornflower eyes meet mine. She’s panting hard, her gaze transfixed on my face and when she reaches out, I take a couple of steps closer and go down on my haunches until we’re almost at eye level.
I nod, wanting her to touch me and her trembling fingers trace my features in respect and wonder and I shudder on the inside at her worship.
“What are you?” she whispers, between blushing lips.
I’m a mobster. And now I’m her avenger.
2.
