My mom is dead. My dad is dead.
Mira is a shell-shocked, dead-eyed version of the girl she used to be.
Chapter One
Rhett
One Year Later
I glance in the rearview mirror at the scumbag with his hands tied behind his back. I should stuff a rag in his mouth and duct-tape the bastard so I don’t have to listen to his complaining. But somehow, that feels like taking the easy way out.
I need to face what I’m doing. Face the man I’ve become.
The night closes in all around us. There are lots of roads out in Gunnison Peaks, lots of mountains, lots of places to hide.
The man in the backseat has beenrecruitinggirls and women into hisbusiness.
“How long do you think I’ll get?” he says, running his tongue over chapped lips. He’s in his mid-thirties, but you wouldn't be able to tell by his raggedy mop of greasy hair, faded tattoos covering his hands, arms, and neck, just about visible under layers of dirt.
I say nothing, just take another turn. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as the urge to bust his mouth wide open grips me.
“They picked me up before, you know, big man,” he goes on. “So, you can spare me the wannabe strong-silent crap. Because it ain’t going to mean a damn thing when this is all said and done. You’re not the hero in this story.”
I almost laugh. He’s not wrong there. There are no heroes in this story.
I stopped believing in knights in shining armor when I left the police force. When I realized that the law wasn’t going to handle what needed to be handled,howit needed to be handled.
“What’s the score, eh? You angry because I didn’t offer you some? I’ve got any type of girl, man. Anything you want.”
My teeth hurt from grinding. That’s just one of the prices I pay for living this new life. Doing what I do. Taking out the trash, so to speak.
He’s quiet for a while. Shuddering as he rests his face against the window and stares out at the total darkness.
“Didn’t know there was a police station all the way out here,” he mutters.
“There isn’t,” I grunt.
He lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Some kind of scare tactic, eh? You said you were a bounty hunter.”
I am a bounty hunter. It was a traditional trajectory. Military-cop-bounty hunter. Except along the way, I learned some problems require non-traditional solutions.
“I won’t do it again, man,” he blubbers when he realizes I wasn’t kidding.
We’re at the begging stage, then. They all get there eventually.
“I swear,” he goes on. “Jesus Christ. I made a mistake.”
A mistake. It never ceases to amaze me. What men will do, the evil acts they’ll commit, then try to chalk it up to amistake.
Another turn. More darkness. He knows what’s coming now.
He strains against the bindings fixing him to the seat. Spits into the front of the car. His entire face turns red.
“You’ve got no idea who you’re fucking with!”
I let him have his moment. Let him believe he can rage and whine his way out of this. But there’s no escape. Not for him and not for me. We’re both locked onto this path, bound by our dark deeds. The difference is that mine has a purpose.
That doesn’t make sleeping at night any easier, though. That doesn’t stop the demons from chasing me.
