Page 34 of Clear Your Mind

I fire at the same time Ripper does. My shot is true, dead between the fucker’s eyebrows.

Ripper’s is too, temple.

Once the psychotic fuck with two new vent holes in his head falls to the floor, I turn my still-smoking gun on Ripper.

Thankfully, Krystal hasn’t moved from where I put her. I don’t know what I would do if she were scrambling around hysterically.

Approaching the big guy, I shove the barrel of my gun right to his temple, knowing it’s burning his skin. “Drop it,” I order.

He complies and I listen as his piece lands with a muffled thud on the carpet. “Love, are you solid?” I ask behind me without taking my eyes off the guy who just put a bullet in his own man’s temple.

“Um…ye-yeah,” she stutters.

“Good, I need you to grab my phone and redial the last number I called and put it on speaker.”

I hear her moving around, and I know she’s doing as I instructed. My heart swells. The fact that she isn’t falling apart with her dead ex bleeding into the carpet speaks volumes. She gave the past its due and now she’s moving on.

A trooper.

Ol’ lady material.

“I didn’t know, man. I didn’t know,” Ripper apologizes.

I believe him. If the horror on his face when Krystal recounted that night didn’t tell me that, the bullet he added to Jeff’s brain did.

“I gathered that, but that doesn’t mean you’re my friend.”

He gives as much of a nod as my gun will allow. “Understood.”

I feel her presence behind me before Cowboy’s voice cuts through the air.

“What’s up, buttercup? Balls deep in—”

“Cowboy,” I interrupt in a tone he knows means business. “Crystal Clear. A shop about five miles west off the highway. Grab the cage, Kilt, and cleaning supplies ASAP.”

“You got it, veep. Prez?” Yeah, Dude’s not going to like it, but I was left without another choice, and he’ll understand.

“Let’s get clear here first.”

“Got it.” The call ends and I spare a glance at the piece of shit on the floor.

Slowly, I back away, just out of reach in case Ripper decides he doesn’t want to wait for my crew and takes a swing at me. “Keep your hands where I can see them, or you join your friend there.”

“Caddy’s not my friend,” he asserts before spitting on the body.

“Krys, hit the fan, will ya?”

It’s not only stifling hot after what went down, but it’s also going to smell. Most people have no idea of all the disgusting things that happen when you die. They get to see a sanitized version after the fact.

But the moment of death, along with the few immediately following? Not a pleasant sight. But it’s one I’ve seen too many times now. I disconnect and start to compartmentalize.

In my mind, I’m going through the best way to clean up the mess that was once Jeff. Krystal would be better off ripping out the carpet, sanitizing the subfloor underneath, covering it in tile or something, and selling the place. Or better yet, burning it down.

It’s easier than letting my mind drift to the real problems facing me. Can Krystal accept the fact that I killed her ex? Will she look at me differently? How pissed will Dude be that I engaged? How did her ex end up with the Bullfeathers? That’s one mystery I might be able to solve.

I plop into a chair as the adrenaline in my bloodstream starts dissipating. I dip the barrel of the gun. “Sit.” Indicating the floor. I should make the fucker kneel, but I don’t have the energy.

Awareness skitters over my skin with Krystal’s approach. I feel her at my shoulder.

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