Page 21 of Property of Bull
Thunder’s about ten feet from me, smoking a cigarette and seemingly oblivious to the cold. Year round, the man wears short sleeves under his cut.
“I parked next to you. That chick you’re with is fine,” he says, drawing out the last word as he holds out the keys to the SUV he came in, one that’s identical to mine.
Except that he doesn’t have lye in the back of his.
“How’d the prospects do?”
“Gaven didn’t hesitate, but Dean was rattled,” he tells me, and I nod my head in thought.
I’d have been happier if it rattled both of them. Killing a woman is no small thing.
“And the other girls?”
“Frost held them at the other cabin, got them to the bus station and they’re none the wiser. He put the fear of God into them, of course,” he tells me but we share a long look. Like me, I can tell he knows this’ll come back to us; maybe tomorrow, maybe down the line.
Authorizing the murder of one woman was enough, not even I could stomach making it four.
“Rage is heading to Kent County. He thinks there’s trouble brewing and wants to get ahead of it.”
“That kid’s got a soft heart. Always has,” Thunder chuckles, shaking his head. He should know, Rage is his little brother. “You’d better get back, she’ll think you’re taking a dump.”
“See you soon, brother,” I say, turning to head back inside.
*
Once Margo got over her nervous chatter, she was a lot of fun during dinner, but it was only when we were leaving that she sealed the deal with me.
Pausing just outside the door, she squints, looking momentarily confused at seeing a red pickup truck in the space I had used. When her eyes find the SUV I’ll be driving us home in, she looks up at me in question but doesn’t say a word.
I reach the SUV in time to open the door for her and don’t miss her taking a whiff before getting in. She doesn’t miss much.
“Want to come back to the clubhouse?” I ask her, not wanting the night to end yet.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she replies after studying my face.
“I’ve had worse,” I say, reaching my hand out to take hers, surprised to feel some calluses on her palm. Certain that she’s as tired of me asking her questions as I am of asking them, we ride for a time in silence.
And I’m surprised at how comfortable that makes me feel.
“Look, I was seeing someone,” she starts out of nowhere, letting out a sigh before turning her head to look out of the window. “Back home. He was really kind of my first boyfriend, and I thought it was sweet, how interested in me he was. David went all in on learning everything I liked and didn’t like. Before I knewit, he went from attentive to controlling. I’ve never had many friends but would hang out with co-workers sometimes. At least, before we started dating.”
Her voice cuts off and while I’m searching for the best way to get the asshole’s last name, she whispers something. “Come again?”
“Then he broke my arm.” Her voice is barely audible, and I release her hand to hit the hazards before pulling off to park on the side of the road.
She lets out a gasp but doesn’t have time to say anything as I release her seatbelt and pull her onto my lap.
“You’re safe now. You’ll always be safe with me,” I murmur into the top of her head, as I wrap my arms around her body.
When she starts to shake, I hold on tighter, until I hear a giggle.
By the time that giggle has turned into a full-fledged laugh, I’m frowning down at her. There are unshed tears clinging to her bottom lids, but she’s belly-laughing at the pledge I made her.
My temper rises at the thought of the first promise I ever made any woman being thrown back into my face and I flex my arm when I feel her hand squeeze my bicep—seconds away from shrugging off her touch.
“Says the man who was disposing of a body the first time I met him,” she says, her laughter tapering off. “I slept under my bed for weeks, in case you or your dad decided to come kill me.”
Her words soothe my pride, and I can’t help but smile, silently acknowledging her point. “Under your bed? Isn’t that where the boogeyman lives?”
