So on the predictable chance that she’s run off on me again, I find the back exit and poke my head into the alley to look for her.
What I find isn’t Scarlett.
Even at her worst, I’ve never seen her like this. So frayed. So much rage pulling at her seams.
She’s got the bloke- Ethan- pinned by his throat with her stiletto, and she’s aiming a gun I didn’t even fucking know she had, right at his head. Her wig is off, and her eyes are wild. Terrified and filled with thirst.
Thirst for blood.
“Scarlett.”
I move towards her, approaching slowly, but she won’t even look at me.
“Stay the fuck away, asshole,” she tells me. “Why don’t you go find Charlotte. You liked her so much with her blonde hair and dry personality. I bet she’s completely sane too.”
“Is this really the best time to discuss that?” I ask.
“This bitch is fucking crazy,” Ethan tells me as if I don’t already know it. “You have to help me, man.”
Scarlett stuffs the front of her shoe into his mouth, making him choke on it.
“You like that?” she asks. “You like it rough, don’t you, Ethan? I remember you do.”
I check the alley and it isn’t as secluded as Scarlett thinks it is and I’m worried that someone else will come stumbling into this mess at any moment. I’m edging towards her, and Scarlett doesn’t notice until I’m within five feet of her.
“I said to stay the fuck back,” she growls. “I told you, Rory. My game, my rules. You didn’t play by my rules.”
“You didn’t even tell me the rules,” I counter. “You didn’t tell me this was what ye were after tonight.”
“He deserves it,” she says. “And so do you. You all fucking deserve it.”
“I never meant to hurt ye,” I tell her. “It was a game, Scarlett. I’m sorry.”
She laughs, and it’s dry. “As if you could hurt me.”
She makes it sound as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but I can tell that it’s true. Even if she won’t admit it to herself.
“Scarlett, if this bloke did something, then ye have my word, I will sort him out. But this isn’t the way. Not here, and not now.”
“No,” she says. “It’s my call. My shot. I get to be the one to do it. You aren’t going to ride in here with your goddamn Irish brotherhood and take my glory.”
Her hand is shaking even as she speaks, and I know Scarlett thinks she can handle anything. I also know she’s done a lot of fucked up shite. I watched her carve up the butcher when she had the chance and there was no hesitation on her part.
But she isn’t a killer.
Scarlett has never killed before. And I have no intentions of letting her start now.
“Once ye do this, there’s no going back,” I tell her. “I’ll take him back to Boston. We’ll sort him out there. Anything ye want, Scarlett. I just need ye to be honest.”
“Her name isn’t Scarlett,” Ethan spits as he yanks away from her shoe. “What a load of bull. If either of you lays another hand on me, my father…”
Scarlett kicks him in the mouth and two of his teeth fly onto the cement as I lurch forward and grab her from behind. I’m struggling for the loaded gun in her hand, and she’s not letting go, and I don’t want to fucking hurt her… and fucking Ethan is making too much bloody noise.
She has the hammer cocked already, and when she pulls the trigger, there’s nothing I can do. But it’s a snub nose revolver, and she didn’t count on the recoil and it’s obvious she’s never fired it before. It isn’t even bloody close to Ethan, but it’s still too loud and everyone in a three-block radius will have heard it.
If they didn’t, now they will hear Ethan carrying on like a simpering child.
Jesus fecking Christ.
