Chapter 16

Nolan

An unmatched, exasperated sigh leaves my mouth seconds prior to me calmly pleading from a distance, “ Tell me I’m only looking at one dead body, Rabbit. ”

The bloody handed female carrying my child slowly rises to a standing position and emotionlessly drops the crimson screwdriver. “You’re only looking at one dead body, Mutt.”

Cautiously approaching the situation that I should’ve been here for – instead of starting and almost finishing our child’s college fund – I try to let levity seep into my tone. “And you’re not jus’ sayin’ that shit to make me happy?”

She hits me with a sarcastic glare I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of. “When do I ever say shit just to make you happy?”

“When you’re on your knees.” The corner of my lip kicks upward. “When you’re on your back.” Closing the gap between us occurs at the same time I wolfishly repeat, “ When you’re on your knees again. ”

“ Don’t make me pick that screwdriver back up. ”

Despite knowing whatever I’ve walked into is some sort of shit show, I allow myself a moment to smirk.

To let my shoulders sink.

Breathe.

If Bunny isn’t losing her shit or running afraid from shit and still talking shit, then everything is relatively alright.

It’s when her fires fucking gone that there’s reason to worry.

When she can’t smile.

Look me in the eye.

Speak.

Low, uncomfortable groans begin leaving The Kid further reassuring me that things are manageable.

Fucked.

But manageable.

“ Kid… ” I call out and prepare to approach when our woman gently slaps my chest with her non-stained hand.

“She hosed him with pepper spray.” Our eyes lock onto one another’s. “That shit is not to be fucked with without gloves.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s highly transferable, and I’d rather not have two boyfriends in agony if it’s avoidable.”

“ Fluckkkkkk .” Kid grumbles out louder as he does his best to get into a sitting position. “ Fwuckkkkkitblurns. ” One hand reaches to touch his forehead causing him to wince. “ Kwuckkkdateenng. ” Before either of us can say anything, new bursts of panic bombard his system, pushing him to try to scramble to his feet. “ Wwwwwuck! Dunny! Dunnyyyyyy! ”

“I’m here, babe,” she coos, body obviously anxious to get over to him, yet remains in place. “I’m here.”

“ Ohbankdabarmods, ” precedes a scratchy cough. “ Woo, ” more raspy sounds are attached to fumbled movement, “ olay? ”

“ Forfuckssake , Kid, she’s better than you,” I grunt and hustle away to grab supplies. “Can you just…stay fuckin’ put for a second? Let me get some shit to help you?”

“Lime-” he regrettably decides to suck in a deep breath resulting in additional coughing. “F-” Louder gasps of desperation are wedged in between repeated attempts to grasp air. “O-” Gagging from his inability to get enough oxygen amps up my efforts to reach for proper hand guards. “G-”

“I love you, Kid, so, so much, but please, just shut the fuck up,” Rabbit implores. “You’re making your shit worse.”

“How do you know so much about pepper spray?” I inquire during my ransacking of the tool space we’re supposed to keep our box of throwaways. “You cook up the shit yourself or what?”

“It’s not meth ,” Rabbit sassily snaps.

“You’re acting like it is.”

“I’m acting like I know what it does because I do . Because I’ve used it. Brad wasn’t the first creep to ever come into my life.”

“He’s gonna be the fucking last,” leaves me split seconds prior to shouting. “ Aha! There you are, fuckers! ” Hastily grabbing two black gloves is executed in tandem with me asking, “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Get him outside to the hose, and I’ll go get some colder water from upstairs to help with the flushing,” our woman instructs while I hustle back to where he’s flailing around. “Fresh air is a major factor.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t-”

“ Ou!Ou!Ou! ” shrieks The Kid, heel of his palms digging into his eye sockets. “ Fluckitdurns! ”

“Let him rub it,” she sighs in obvious defeat.

“Hey,” I gingerly start, prying both hands away from the infected area, “you gotta knock that shit off, Kid.”

“ Butlitwurns,wolan, ” he airily argues.

“Be grateful it’s your eyes and not your dick?”

The joke has him twitching a smile that – much like seeing Rabbit’s – brings me relief.

Again.

This is a shit show.

But at least it’s fucking manageable.

Fixable.

“Just…uh…let me drive.” It’s impossible not to push for another smirk. “You know that shit you hate to let me do.”

“Iloneatemit.”

“ Kid. ”

“Idustmiketobribedoo!” escapes yet rather than squeaky, its light and scratchy and raspy.

“See why you shouldn’t argue with me,” I playfully scold and begin leading him around the vehicle he was working on by my glove covered hands.

Grunts of unhappiness are the most he offers; however, even those are bit much for the boy who can’t quite breathe.

Getting to the outside wall of the shop isn’t difficult, and thankfully, neither is getting the hose turned on or the water flowing.

“On your knees.”

There’s no hesitation to do what he’s told.

And that lack of hesitation has my cock stirring at what is undoubtedly the wrong time.

I’ll admit it.

I’ve had my dick sucked at what some might label as inappropriate times, but never while someone is fucking injured.

Although, this does remind me of our round in the shower last night.

Minus his murmurs of misery.

“Out of the shirt,” I instruct only to once more be pleased by his prompt execution. “Tilt your head back.”

He does.

And by doing so I’m gifted a mouthwatering shot of his cut abs being given a spotlight courtesy of the moon.

Like it really needed to fucking highlight how tight his shit is.

The extra hours it’s clear he’s been putting into working out.

How his nipples are so goddamn perfect for my mouth.

Why those damn V muscles are ones that hockey prick – who will fuck anything – never needs to see.

Frustrated grumbles initially get lost by the sounds of the water rushing towards the inner corner of his eyes but when he begins moaning from the relief finally being found, they reappear alongside needier groans that grow my cock and my contemplation on how much it would burn my dick if it got a little pepper spray on it while sucking.

Probably a lot.

But maybe it’d be that whole pain meets pleasure shit?

Remembering that the pepper spraying is why we’re here – versus some sexual fantasy replay of that old burger commercial with the blonde ditz – leads me to mentally gathering all the questions I need answers to when Rabbit comes down as opposed to more delicious images to get through the longer tow days.

The Kid instinctively moving his hands up towards his eyes – most likely to rub – prompts me to bite, “ Don’t. ”

He grunts his irritation.

Moves his face out of desperation for more relief.

Grunts again when it’s not felt.

“ Patience, Kid. ”

“Get it in his mouth too,” Rabbit declares upon her arrival with our largest pot filled to the brim.

“Familiar words,” I thoughtlessly mutter prior to running the hose around the area.

“Don’t swallow,” our woman instructs during her positioning. “Spit.”

“We swallow in this family,” leaves me without consideration for how serious she’s being.

Her eyes cut to mine to showcase her disapproval. “You won’t ever have to worry about that again if you don’t take this shit seriously.”

I regrettably nod in agreement.

I know he wasn’t hit in the face with something meaningless like silly string.

I know how much pain he’s in.

I can fucking hear it.

I just…I also know if I hover too hard or too loud or too much it’ll fuck him up more.

Escalate the situation.

Rev his engine.

Shift those gears that are doing their best to idle at the moment into gear to go until the panic outraces everything else.

Maybe it’s not the best map to follow, but it’s the one I know.

It’s the one that’s worked for us in the past.

And – I’m gonna go out into the middle of the track when I say this – the one that seems to be working now.

“ Flwaguckkkk! ” shouts The Kid around Rabbit’s additional pouring from the pot she brought down. “ Cwolv! ”

“Should provide more relief,” she states between cringes.

It’s impossible not quirk an eyebrow as I question, “ Should? ”

“Look, I am not a pepper spray expert , okay?” Her worried gaze shifts to mine. “I’m just more familiar with it and the dos and donts than the two of you.”

“True.” The two of us briefly stop pouring to let our boyfriend catch his breath. “Slower, Kid. Don’t overwork your lungs or irritate your throat more.”

This time he nods rather than retorts.

Guess pain really is the best teacher.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“Apparently, Kid was working on that awful haired cunt’s car from F9 .”

Bewilderment furrows my brow. “ What? ”

“Cipher,” our boyfriend coughs out. “Her name…” a couple more coughs precede him clearing his throat, “was Cipher.”

“That dead bitch’s name was Whit .”

He shakes his head in tandem with rapid blinking meant to help his vision somehow. “In the movie.”

“ Fuckin’ really, Kid ?” My shoulders along with my grip on the hose loosen. “That’s what you focused on?”

“Says Mr. Spit and Swallow,” sasses Rabbit with a snarky smirk at the same time she retrieves the towel she has slung over her shoulder. “I’m gonna gently pat dry your face and see if we need to keep flushing, okay?”

Another nod is offered.

“Stay still.” Gingerly, she begins pressing the dry cloth onto the cleansed space under his eyes. Dab by dab, red and swollen patches are revealed, the sights so stomach churning infuriating that I damn near snap the hose in half. “ Whit was supposedly recommended to The Kid by Butler-”

“But she wasn’t?”

“I think she used Butler to get to Kipp to get to me .” Rabbit lovingly grips his chin to inspect the territory as a whole. “Her plan was to deliver me to Brad.” The tipping of his head backwards has his wet locks dangling like a porn shot I don’t fucking need right now. “Pretty sure killing you wasn’t part of it.” An adoring touch to his nose sparks a smile. “Just like I’m pretty sure getting killed wasn’t either.”

“You killed her?” he asks, voice – thankfully – less hoarse.

“Of course. I’d do anything to protect our family.”

Her response swells my chest and pushes my shoulders back in pride.

As much as I don’t want our woman’s hands sullied by blood, I won’t pretend I don’t find comfort in knowing she’s here to stay.

To fight.

With us.

For us.

Our. Family.

“I should’ve fucking been here,” I grouse while turning off the hose we’re done using. “I should’ve-”

“Been exactly where the fuck you were,” she snaps, towel and pot being discarded on the ground. “Do not start blaming yourself for having a life outside of these walls.” Any chance of rebuttal is destroyed by Rabbit redirecting her scolding to The Kid who is starting to stand. “And you don’t start that shit either. You did nothing wrong. And you should be working on cars. Keep working on cars. And living your life.” Another shift of words is delivered. “And you living yours.” All of a sudden, her hands gesture inward. “And me fucking living mine! That’s what we all agreed to! And that’s what we’re gonna keep fucking doing because otherwise Brad wins! And he can’t win!” There isn’t time for my mouth to even twitch in thought. “ He won’t win… ”

The announcement is followed by her body darting back towards the garage leaving the two of us reeling in consternation.

“Where the fuck are you going?!” I immediately investigate.

“To fucking tell him that,” she unexpectedly answers.

Shit.

Can inhaling pepper spray get you high?

Cause our woman sounds high.

And I know that shit isn’t good for the baby.

Our clamber after her is filled with questions and comments and expressed confusion; however, when she bends down to rifle through the dead chick’s pockets, I understand exactly what she means yet don’t stop her.

She needs this.

In a way…I think we all do.

The unlocking of the retrieved phone is done via thumbprint of the rotting corpse, and the second she has access to the content, she gets to work.

Locates what she believes to McAdam’s number.

Crosses over to us and dials.

Puts it on speaker.

Waits.

Patiently listens to the ringing and ringing and ringing until it stops indicating someone has answered.

Silence slowly stretches between both ends so savagely that I have to plant my palm on Kid’s shoulder to keep him from speaking.

From letting our woman find the footing this asshole keeps trying to steal.

“Delivery in transit?” McAdams finally inquires, voice almost robotically cold.

“Problem at pickup,” Rabbit villainously responds.

“ Bunny… ” he sighs like she’s successfully been returned to his possession. “ Oh…how…I’ve…missed you. ”

Clamping down tighter on my boyfriend is done for my benefit as much as his.

Fuck, I can’t wait to end this bastard.

Break all his goddamn bones.

Turn his eyes into a dangling accessory for my tailgate.

“ Tell me, my little sweet pea… ” The glee in his tone is spinechilling. “ Have you missed me? ” He lightly moans into the phone. “ Have you been thinking about me? ” His breathing gets uncomfortably paced pushing my stare to study our woman’s body. Demeanor. “ Coming home where you belong? ”

“I am exactly where I belong, Brad,” she states without an ounce of vacillation. “And if you want me? Really want me… You’re gonna have to stop sending errand bitches to do your dirty work.” Her grip on the device harshens. “You’re gonna have to come get me yourself. You’re gonna have to stop tucking your sac back and leave the starting line.” Bright brown eyes I’d die for any day of the week oscillate between me and The Kid. “You’re gonna have to actually step foot into this town… our town… and when that happens? You’ll be leaving it in pieces.”

One click ending the call precedes her dropping the device to the ground and violently stomping on it, cathartic screams attached to the repeated destructive action.

This is the good kind of crazy.

Don’t know that I’d call it healthy, but definitely the type I’m happy to see.

Tiny bits scatter across the shop floor, yet it’s her final blow that sends the dead cell the direction of the gun I imagined was used to intimidate her earlier. Whether it’s the fact she’s finished or has her attention recaptured by the object that brings her back to her senses is unclear.

And unimportant.

Much more irrelevant than the instructions she delivers to me. “Mutt, call Athie, first. Get him down here to get the knot on The Kid’s head checked out-”

“I’m fine,” he immediately croaks.

“I wasn’t asking,” she informs, stare never wavering from mine. “I wanna make sure he doesn’t have a concussion, and that the pepper spray didn’t do any major damage.”

“ I said-”

“I’m not listening,” Rabbit brushes off in such a powerful way it’s practically impossible not to get a little harder. “I’m gonna call Garcia and make him aware of the situation.”

Unlike The Kid, I don’t make the mistake of arguing.

“Afterward? Call Post. ” Her hands plant themselves firmly onto her hips. “ Get him down here. Let him see what the fuck happened. Because if this is where we’re raising our kid? It’s time to know exactly who’s in our column on this spreadsheet we call life and who the hell needs to be deleted.”