Page 33 of Night Blind

“Listen to your man, Bitch,” The Collector said. “I know there was some truth in what you said to me. You loved how I made you cum, you whore. No matter where you go or who you’re with, the fact that I made that tight little snatch respond to me says who you really are.”

She used the butt of the weapon to hit him in the mouth. Heavy footfalls of men coming through the door, yelling “Police! Freeze!” stopped her from doing what needed to get done. The minute of hesitation was enough. The police officers arrived, coming to her, but the weapon in her hand was now safely tucked in the pocket of her dress. She silently prayed that the safety was on as she moved away from the ass wipe bleeding man laying on the floor. Emergency services entered the home, surrounding Stanton as Helen slipped out the door.

She used the side exit of the porch to meet Mustang at the edge of the sidewalk. Social services were on the scene for the women and boy, and Helen nodded to the women as she moved to the Ford F-150. China waved to her, placing her hands in a prayer position, and giving a kowtow. Helen provided a mock salute as Irish prattled on to the lady in the overcoat about the horrors they’d all endured. The boy, under the protective arm of Mexicali, waved at her as well. She gave a small smile,wondering, but allowing the idea to wane. It was time to go home. The drive home was six and a half hours. The time was nearing two a.m., and emotionally, she was spent.

“No need to try and drive it tonight; we have a hotel room for another night in case the officers need additional statements or information from us,” he told her, plugging the information into the GPS. “Let’s bring it down a bit before you return home.”

She cut her eyes at him. Helen reached into her pocket, freeing the weapon in the layers of fabric. The look she gave him was filled with daggers. Acid-filled words were held as she drove to the hotel, hoping it had more than a mini bar in the fridge. Tonight, she needed a fucking drink.

Chapter 12 -Prime

Helen wasn’t hungry although he had ordered a light meal that had been delivered at the same time they arrived at the inn. She’d found, over the years, her appetite waxed and waned depending on her levels of stress. Honestly, she hadn’t eaten an entire meal in days. Here and there she nibbled on enough to sustain energy levels, but a true appetite had not returned to her for some time. Today, only made her life more stressful lessening her desire to eat.

In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror, going over the night. The plan was solid: get in the door, shoot him twice, free the women, allow The Collector to watch the freed women leave, then kill him. However, she’d hesitated. She shouldn’t have hesitated.

All of her life, she’d hesitated. She’d hesitated to tell her mother about the things Smiley Roberston would whisper to her when no one was around. The man had bad intentions, which could possibly have been prevented, only if she hadn’t hesitated. The two boyfriends in her past had hung around past their expiration dates because the first serious man in her life came after Cherry was away in boot camp. He was an asshole who coerced her into intimacy simply because she needed to keep the lights on and eat food regularly.

The second man, a wolf who dressed as a wolf, had more disposable income to spare. From him, she managed to get shoes, clothing, and actual meat in her freezer. He was a lousy lover but generous with funding. The conversations with him were equally as mediocre as his bedroom skills, but to live, she did what needed to be done.

None of them were by choice. Each of the times she’d had sex wasn’t really by her choice or her desire. She sighed, thinking of where her life would go from here. She was being trained to bea Technician, and yesterday she’d taken two lives. Tonight, she’d been prepared to take another.

“Jeez, Helen,” she said, coming from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe. Mustang sat at the table, reading through notes in a folder he’d taken from his briefcase. “Are those notes on a case?”

“Yeah, I’m wrapping up the liaison assignment with the Michigan State Troopers and preparing to head home tomorrow,” he said.

She sat, looking at the folder, then asked, “What will happen with the boy?”

“I reached out to Azreal; there is a safe place for him with Bad Apple,” he said.

“Bad Apple?”

“Azreal is an Archangel like Gabriel. She oversees the Fruits of the Great Lakes,” he said. “Michigan is Bad Apple’sterritory. Cherry oversaw Indiana.”

“And you, Mustang, what is your territory?”

“I’m not an assassin. I am a tracker,” he said. “My territory is anything in the Western Region, but my home base is Oregon.”

“And the handle Mustang?”

“The Western Region are the Horses, The Midwest Region are the Storms, the Southeast are the Directions, and Northeast are the Trees,” he confessed.

She crinkled her brow, showing her lack of understanding. Softly, she inquired, “The Directions?”

“Yeah, my brother is Mr. Slow, there is Mr. Yield, Stop, One Way, yada yada,” he said, stopping to smile. “Some of the names are appropriate handles for each Technician. We have a big son of a bit…I mean a really big dude named Clydesdale and a little short runt of a guy named Shetland. He’s so cute, I am often tempted to pick him up and walk him over to the school bus stop to see if the driver will let him on board.”

He looked up to see her smiling. Her entire face changed when she smiled, and he had to catch himself. His smile faded. This was not the time, nor was this the place.

“Too late. I saw it in your eyes,” she told him, leaning back in the seat. “A funny thing about me, Mustang, is that on a good day, with a bit of makeup and some blusher, I can be cute. I’m not pretty. I don’t have an amazing figure or luxurious hair. I’m average, but for some reason, I attract the worst people to me.”

“You are far from average, and what they are attracted to is the light in you,” he told her. “Even I am pulled towards that light.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop, the look of defeat on her face, “Then why does it always feel so flipping dark around me?”

Her gaze went to her hands. She needed to have a conversation with him to move herself forward. The hesitation was back and fear covered her as she breathed slowly, mustering her courage. Mustang was tired of her second-guessing her natural instincts.

“For goodness’ sake, Helen! In the last two days, you took out a child trafficker, and on instinct, took out the second man, who was worse than the first. The second man was elusive to trained government agents, and on instinct alone, you took him down, then the next day freed four women from captivity and a young boy, and God only knows what that weirdo had planned for that child,” Mustang said. “You’re here. You’re a badass. Ask for what you need.”

“I need a night as your lover,” she told him, looking up at his surprised face.

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