Grabbing the gun from the ground, I follow the screeching sounds and a taller man I've seen at the feed store before walks out of my house charging at me with a kitchen knife. I dodge him, my elbow slamming into his face and I aim the gun at his head.
“Wait,” he pleads and I jam the muzzle to his forehead, pulling the trigger before he can get out another word. His eyes roll back and his body twitches before he slumps to the floor. I kick him out of the way, shaking my head at all the mess he made on my new wood floors.
“I only put those in a month ago too. That blood will not be easy to get out. What a shame.”
A loud bang has me picking up my steps to the bedroom and a lithe man with light hair is sitting on Patrick with his hands around his neck. Anger shakes inside me and flies forward, using my body to knock him to the ground. Saying next to nothing he goes down easily, struggling to stand back up when he hits his head on the nightstand.
The guardian outside is barking and my cat is trying to claw his way out of the bathroom. Patrick is lying on the bed a little too still for my liking and kneel beside him, giving him mouth to mouth. I add some chest compressions and he coughs out a breath, eyes bulging. Color rushes back to his face as he comes to.
“Oh, thank fuck,” I say, positioning him against the headboard and stroking his face. “That's it, little bo. Keep those pretty blue eyes open. Stay with me.”
He tries to speak and I press my fingers to his lips. “Easy. Whatever you have to say can wait until you're feeling better.” My attention briefly shifts to the floor where, whom I assume is Chris, is holding his bloody head and using the nightstand to pull himself up.
Patrick leans too far to the left, his eyes shutting and I shake him lightly. “I need you awake, baby. You got that?”
He nods, doing his best to hold his head up as he uses his hands to push against the bed. “Awake,” he says.
“Yes. Keep breathing and watching me. Eyes on me. Make sure they are too busy to want to close.”
His gaze follows my movements off the bed and as Chris is reaching for something behind him, I grab the lamp and smash it into his face. Rope hangs from one of his hands and I wrap it around his neck, choking him until life leaves his eyes. His limbs flail and he thrashes like a fish out of water, his eyes going bloodshot before he goes slack against the floor.
Patrick's eyes are on me the whole time. Wide and beautiful. The fear is gone and I smile when I see a spark of that light he had when first arriving coming back.
“Hey, bo.”
“Hi,” he says, voice tight. “Are they…are they all dead?”
“Yeah…” I look around me and nod. “Looks like it at least but you can never be too sure.”
“So do you call the cops now?”
“Yeah.” I stand up taller, swiping at the blood on my sleeve. “It was self defense. They broke into my home and tried to kill you.”
“They deserved it,” he says, meaning it with his full chest. “Every last bit of it.” His hold focuses on the corpse on the floor. “That's Chris.”
“That was Chris.”
“Was,” he repeats. “I like the sound of that a lot better.”
“Me too.” I perch myself on the side of the bed, reaching for him and he scoots closer to make it easier for us to touch.
“After they come and take the bodies away, will you finally come to bed with me?”
Taken by surprise, I laugh. “I will. Not here but in the hotel down the road after a long, hot shower.”
Sirens blare in the background and Patrick leans against me as I answer all the cop's questions. An ambulance arrives minutes later and an EMT enters the house to assess Patrick's injuries. I was so focused on him that I didn't notice one of them nicked me in the arm with a knife. It wasn't important at the time. Making him feel safe again was. So was having him smile at me the way he does when I take him to get a shake and a hamburger. So is him relaxing against me in the shower as I wash his hair and him resting easily beside me in the hotel bed with no more worries of anyone other than me taking anything else from him.
He'll like giving his all to me. He hasn't realized it yet but I'm a bigger threat than any of those men ever could be and here he is clinging to me like the hero I'll never be. I didn't kill those men because I gave a shit about his brother or whatever drugs they were dealing behind closed doors. I wasn't trying to clear the streets of evil doing. I killed them because he's mine. He's mine and no one gets to decide what happens to him but me.
Twenty
Patrick
Two weeks later
Glenn opens his eyes and I jump from my seat, hitting the call button on the remote.
My brother tries to speak, grabbing at his throat and I lean down. “What is it, D?”
