“With you being back in town for a while, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out who you are, and who you’re affiliated with.”
“His club is small fucking potatoes. Those peckerwoods wouldn’tfucking dare step up to the Howlers.”
“Maybe so, but he might decide to step up to you. You fucking castrated the guy.”
I shook my head. “Castration is removing the testicles. I took his dick too, which means I emasculated him.”
“I’m glad this is fucking amusing to you.”
“I’m not amused, but I’m not fucking sorry, either. The guy was a serial rapist, and now he can’t do that anymore.”
“He could still retaliate against his prior victims for what you did to him.”
“That’s why I never told him who I was representing,” I replied.
Orion frowned. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I still say it wouldhave been cleaner to just ice the guy and bury him in the fucking desert.”
I shrugged. “And maybe you’ll get your way. He could still die as a result of his injuries. A kukri knife and portable torch aren’t exactly approved surgical tools. Not to mention the agony that awaits him in the burn unit. He could die of shock, infection, or simply lose the fucking will to live. A shot to the head and a shallow grave would have been too good for this animal. He needs to suffer like those women suffered. Like Lennon’s friend suffered.”
“You did this for her didn’t you? For Lennon.”
“She has no idea about any of this,” I replied.
“That doesn’t matter. You still did this for her.”
“Maybe I did, and maybe I’m just sick and fucking tired of guys like Delbert Fisk slipping through the cracks while innocent people suffer at their hand. If he lives, I don’t think we’ll ever see hide nor hair of him again.”
“I hope you’re right,” Orion said.
We pulled up to the cabin and I headed inside.
I needed a beer.
Or twelve.
* * *
Lennon
My doorbell pealed at just after nine a.m. and I checked my peephole to find my sister’s face grinning at me through the fisheye. I pulled open the door with a squeak and yanked herinto my arms. “What are you doing here? I told you I’d pick you up.”
“The flight was super early, and I knew you were going to have to borrow Granny’s car to pick me up with, and I wasn’t sure if the fact I had so many bags would kill it. I mean, I know Red Rider wouldn’t survive the trip, so I grabbed a car.”
My grandmother still owned her 1976 Mercedes 280 that her second husband had bought her for Christmas back in, well, 1976. It still ran, but it was a bitch to drive and the fact my sister was thoughtful enough to grab a ride share was one of the many reasons I loved her.
I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘so many bags?’ Just how long are you staying?”
“Forever.” She sighed, steppinginto the hallway to grab the second of six bags total. “I quit my job.”
“Oh my god, sissy, you love your job,” I breathed out, helping her haul in the rest of her stuff, before closing the door. “Why would you quit?”
“How about I shower, you open a bottle of wine, and I’ll fill you in.”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” I pointed out.
She shrugged. “Then, you can make coffee, just add bourbon to mine.”
“Oh my god, this sounds bad.”
