With revenge motivating me, dealing with what happened was easier. The need for blood became a driving force that allowed me to put my thoughts and feelings on hold. Now my feelings, doubt, and shame overshadow everything. My mind is a dark hole with a smoky mist that Moon stands in to beckon me out. His hand is there. I can almost touch it, but my fingers slide away, a millimeter short, and the darkness covers me once more.Sleep is the worst. Nightmares make me toss and turn throughout the night. Most center around blood on my hands. They drip the red, congealed mess onto everything I touch and when I open my eyes it's still there. Or so the dream goes.I find it strange that I don't dream about what Fernandez did to me. It's his laughter, though, that wakes me night after night. Moon is always there to comfort me during those horrible hours. He pulls me close to his body when I give the slightest gasp. I breathe in his scent and fill my lungs with his strength. Until I fall asleep a
It's three more days before our guest arrives. I'm actually tongue-tide when Moon introduces me to Father Andrews. He's American but lives in Mexico and drove all this way to return a favor he owed my husband. He's younger than a priest has a right to be and he's too damn good looking for his job. I place him in his early thirties. It's strange because he looks oddly familiar even though I'm sure I've never met him.The three of us walk into the living room where Mrs. Loche put out cucumber sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies. Father Andrews's eyes light up. "I haven't eaten since breakfast and these look delicious," he says while filling a plate.Moon doesn't sit with us. "Mr. Loche and I are working on a new garden and clearing some land. I'll be next door if you need me." He leans down and places his lips on mine for a short kiss. It actually embarrasses me because Father Andrews is watching. Moon taps me under the chin in understanding because of the heat traveling up my neck and
I stayed with Mr. Loche for two hours. When I came back to the cabin, Father Andrews and Madison were cooking dinner together in the kitchen. She was laughing and he was telling her that anyone can learn to cook, it just takes practice. I don't add my two cents that the meal Mrs. Loche prepared would have been safer. I word it a little more carefully, "Please don't encourage her. Gabriella will throw a fit if Madison moves in on her territory." They stop what they're doing and I receive my first genuine smile from Madison that I've seen in weeks."It's a simple lasagna. Mak can make it when you're here at the cabin. Even I wouldn't do anything to piss off Gabriella." He cringes with great exaggeration and Madison laughs.She looks at him with a huge smile. "You didn't tell me you know Gabriella.""I know her daughter. I've heard all the stories from her and I'm terrified of her mother."I walk to my wife and wrap my arms around her from behind. She leans into me and places her hands on
They say your life flashes before your eyes when death is imminent. That's not quite true. It's a perpetually fast stream of dreams, failures, and fucking what ifs. Or at least, that's how it was for me.People call me Mak but my real name is Madison Abigail Kinlock. I'm standing in an underground parking garage in downtown Phoenix with pepper spray pointing at a cheating douchebag.The temperature is over a hundred degrees, and sweat is dripping down my brow and into my eyes, causing them to burn. The douche, Harry Dandridge, seems to think his bat will one-up my pepper spray. He could be right.Dandridge wants my camera, along with a piece of my skull, and who can blame him? I followed Harry into the garage and took pictures while a prostitute gave him a blow job in the backseat of his white Lincoln. I would have escaped without incident if I hadn't decided a close-up dick shot was called for-all in the name of cheating douchebags, of course. Harry was well occupied when a speedin
Thug One nods his dark, closely cropped head. "Dandridge is coming with us," he says in a deep voice that one would expect from someone his size.Harry slowly lowers the bat and takes two steps in my direction. I keep my pepper spray trained on him because he's still got the bat. The buckets of sweat dripping off Harry's face are telling and there's a good chance he might pee his pants any second. His willy is still hanging out and this is not something I care to see.Harry has the nerve to whisper at me like we're a team, "Get me out of here and there's ten grand in it for you." He takes another step in my direction. I have no idea why he thinks I can save either of us with a can of pepper spray.I give a half-eye to Caddy-thug-dudes. Thug One steps closer, his gun turns fully to Harry. "Moon wants Dandridge and one way or another, he's ours."Well shit. I can't help feeling sympathy for Harry. Whatever he's done, he's pissed off the wrong person. I know who Moon is. If you're a d
I'm startled when his rough fingers slide across my neck and over my jaw. Talk about electrical currents. I'm frozen by his touch and yet I want to jump up and run from the room screaming. His fingers stop at the source of my pain and I flinch.An "Awwwe" escapes me. He lifts his hand away and gently lets me rest back against the pillows."Do you know what day it is?" he asks.A bit of my apprehension recedes. You don't make a cement pillar out of someone after asking them questions that determine the extent of brain trauma."Wednesday?" It comes out as a question."The date?"I need to think about it for a moment. Fourth of July was last Saturday. "July eighth." This time it's not a question. I'm gaining my bearings. My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon's features.No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can't help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer.
The door closes and I begin trembling. I'm not sure if it's caused by Moon, the overload of adrenaline, or the hit to my head. I remind myself who he is-all the horrible things I know about him. He's the embodiment of every criminal who has crossed my path. He has multiple deaths credited to his organization. There's never been enough evidence to pin them on Moon, but law enforcement knows he's responsible. And even with all these thoughts, my damn body doesn't care.I inhale slowly and try to gain my composure. This isn't me, it's a momentary lapse. I'm not controlled by raging sex hormones switched on by a hot, magnetic body. "I'm not," I mutter aloud. Thank God he took my stupid remark about being a cop for a "no" to his dinner invitation. I can't imagine being seen anywhere with him. Or going anywhere with him.My gaze moves to my BDUs and camera on the dresser. I do a quick sweep of the room, wondering if Moon has hidden cameras. I wouldn't put it past him. I'm assuming that I'm
Gomez steps back and gestures for me to precede him. It's stupid to not want him at my back. If they wanted to hurt me, it would have happened by now. I walk out with my head held high. We're on the second floor at the end of a long walkway that has black metal decorative railing on one side and overlooks the room below. The floors are polished red Spanish tile, the walls painted different earth tones with alcoves accented by recessed lights to display the art. Not just paintings, but statues and pottery too. Way out of my blue-collar league.There are six doors along the hallway, and I glance back noticing the double doors behind me at the end farthest from the stairs. I have no doubt whose room that is. I need to get out of here quickly. The staircase is long and winding-something you see in old movies about the Deep South. The wall along the staircase contains more eclectic art. I've never been an artsy person, but it doesn't take a genius to know that it's expensive. I try not t