Trying not to be close without pushing Samantha too far away is a fucking joke. It’s so goddamn difficult some days. I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna do it.
I want her so goddamn bad, even when I know I shouldn’t.
Walking out of the bathroom, I look at the bed where the princess is asleep, naked. Lying in her plush bed, surrounded by pillows and frilly shit, she looks like a goddamn angel, soft and smooth. Too goddamn good for me, which doesn’t make a difference to me because she’s mine, too good or not.
I can’t keep her.
My phone chirps from my pocket and I ignore it, knowing goddamn good and well what it’s about. It’s time for me to go.
But I take a few minutes, watching her, knowing this might be the last time. After all this shit and all this time, there’s no fixing it, no going back. I can’t be what she needs.
I can’t stay and I won’t ask her to go, so that leaves here, with nowhere to go.
Tugging on my jeans and slipping on my boots, I lean down, kissing her soft lips one last time. Savoring it.
“King?” she mumbles, rolling over, tugging the sheet up around her. “Are you leaving?” This used to be shit she’d ask me and I’d tell her yes, but this time I lie, and I fucking hate myself for doing it.
“Nah. Just headin’ to the club. Church.”
She nods, cuddling into my neck when I kiss her forehead. “Everything okay?”
“It’s gonna be.” Which isn’t a fucking lie. After this, everything will be okay. Everything will be good. The stalking. The threat. Us. It’ll all be over.
She laughs softly. “Okay, big guy. One more kiss.”
I give it to her, exactly what she wants. One more kiss.
I feel fucking crazy, all over the goddamn place, my mind on a goddamn downhill slide. I want nothing more than to grab Samantha and hit the road, keeping her with me, safe and away from this shit, but I know goddamn well that’s not how this shit works. That’s not why I’m here.
“What are you thinkin’?” Danny Boy asks from the head of the table, his eyes on me.
“I’m not.” I lie. I’m thinking. Thinking more than I should be. This shit should be easy, but it’s not, not even fucking close. Samantha makes this job that much harder for me.
In room one, around the table, we hold church. Making plans and discussing strategies, I listen, but don’t contribute because I don’t know where my fucking head is.
“This the Mexican mob then?” Rock growls, leaning back in his chair. “Same motherfuckers we dealt with a few months back?”
Ty nods. “Juan Diaz.”
I don’t know what the guys have got going here. Don’t know their business deals and shit, but what I do know is something that shouldn’t be touching Samantha is, and that isn’t gonna fly.
“Fill me in, yeah? Who the fuck’s this guy and why’s he here, fucking with Samantha?” Dan scratches at his face, tired. And I get it, this shit’s frustrating, but I need more. “Who is he?” I bark, done waiting.
“We intercepted a couple shipments of meth a while back. Ya know, the good Mexican shit,” he tells me in way of an explanation. Not even close to enough. I need more.
“And?” I fire back, not understanding where this is going.
“Took the trucks out back, into the woods and burnt them, product and all,” Bish tells me, connecting the dots. “Kept the little extras inside.”
“So, you pissed off the dealer?”
“And the supplier.”
“We paid the Mexican mob in fake bills,” he adds, chuckling. Jesus Christ.
“You bought product intended for someone else with counterfeit money?” Danny just keeps nodding, his face grim. “Who was the meth for?”
He just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Meth doesn’t come in or out of our town. We shut that shit down.”
“I fuckin’ get that, but you’ve got the Mexican’s pissed, paid in funny money, and more than likely, someone else out there mad as fuck their product never made it?”
“Pretty fucking much,” Buck says, smirking. “We’ll handle whatever fallout we get.”
“Really? Any fucking fallout, huh? So, Samantha being fucked with isn’t considered fallout?” I fire back, getting out of my goddamn seat.
Buck squares up, ready for a fight.
“Listen, brother, had we known this would touch one of the girls, we would’ve had more eyes on her from the beginning, but we didn’t and here you are,” Danny Boy says, getting out of his seat, his hand on my shoulder. “So sit the fuck down so we can finish this shit.”
I don’t sit the fuck down. I’m outside and on my bike.
“How we gonna play this?” Rock asks, leaning back against a tree.
“Blow their fuckin’ place up.” End this shit.
He nods, understanding what I’m not saying. “No plan then.”
“Everyone dies, that’s my fuckin’ plan,” I bark, my mind gone. I need this to be over and be miles from here, from Samantha, from this whole goddamn thing. “Their place burns with every one of them inside.”
“Got everything in place,” Bish tells me, walking back around the thick of trees we’re in. On top of a small hill, next to a clearing, we watch.
On the border, at one of their distribution spots, I watch some asshole roll up in that old black sedan, pulling right up to the door and hopping out. It takes everything in me not to blow his fucking head off on the spot.
“You okay?” Rocky asks, watching me and watching him.
“Fucking perfect.”
Walking around toward the clearing, I stand out in the open, waiting. “He in there?” I ask Buck, looking at him.
“Watched him walk in about an hour ago.”
It’s dark and raining, the place black, but I know goddamn well they’re in there, and it’s all I need to know.
“Light it up.”
Buck doesn’t hesitate. He lights the motherfucker up.
I watch their warehouse go up in flames, the fucking sky lit up like the fourth of goddamn July. Our explosives already detonated, and now it’s their shit in there, their meth lab, going off. Explosion after explosion. Most rewarding thing I’ve seen in a long goddamn time.
A side door flies open with some crispy fried motherfucker falling out the door, engulfed in flames. It’s a satisfying sight.
The warehouse burns and I leave, satisfied.