Chapter Four

Ink

No one ever said I was a good man. In high school, I was voted most likely to end up in prison. I think it was a joke, but I did in fact end up in jail.

For nearly a decade, I spent time cracking skulls when I was younger. If you had a guy in a rival gang that needed to go without your involvement, I was your man. And trust me when I say, it was lucrative. Beyond lucrative, I was living better than I’d ever lived in my life. Morally, I told myself that I’d stop when I’d saved enough money to pay off old debts, and that everyone involved was a criminal, so who cares, but the obsession and drive for cash was so overwhelming that I got sloppy. That’s what happens when a poor guy gets good things too fast. I didn’t know the responsibility I was holding.

I stare down at the lifeless body before me and contemplate how I go about telling my bunny that I’ve taken out her ex… for good. I’m sure she heard the gunshots. How could she not? I’m only twenty feet from the house.

I drag the body to the edge of the woods and text my buddy Reaper.

Me: 187 up at my place. You free?

Reaper: On my way.

Me: I’ll text you later.

Reaper: Copy

187 is an urgent burial. Reaper takes care of that shit for us. He has experience cleaning up crime scenes, and he knows what needs to be done to protect the MC.

I tuck my pistol back in my jeans and turn toward the cabin, filtering through all the possible options and how I should go about talking to Bunny about this, but I land on the same one every time.

I can’t tell her.

It’s not that I want to be dishonest. I want to tell Bunny everything, but I’m not sure she should know everything. Some things a man should shield his woman from. He should be the force that protects her from the world. He should not only keep her safe physically, but emotionally as well.

I know Bunny. She’s the kind of girl that worries. She worries about people that hurt her. She worries about people that don’t hurt her. She just worries. If I tell her I killed her ex, that’s only going to make her anxious. That’s not good for her or the baby.

I swing open the cabin door and step inside, washing my hands in the kitchen sink a long while. I scrub between my fingers, pay extra attention to the nail beds, and give a rough, thorough cleaning to the rest as though I’m managing some serious compulsions. I don’t need to go this hard. My hands were clean, but it’s ritual. When I do something awful that needs to be done, I wash my hands of it. Feeling guilty for ending the life of a man who hurt my bunny isn’t an emotion I’m going to let drag me down.

When I open the bathroom door, I see Bunny in the shower with water running down over her naked body, steam filling the room. Her face is drawn out and pale.

She glances toward me. “Oh my God! You’re okay! I didn’t know what happened. I heard some rustling, then two shots, and then… nothing.”

I nod and move toward her. “Must have been a bear or something. I scared him off. You okay? Why are you in the shower?”

“The water felt soothing, like a warm hug. I was trying not to let my anxiety go wild.”

I strip off my clothes and climb into the water behind her, sinking into the well of heat. The tub is small, but we make it work. “Good girl keeping yourself calm. I’m proud of you.”

She leans her head back against my chest and I hold her close, taking in the scent of the soap that claims to be unscented. It’s not floral or fruity, rather a refreshing clean scent that’s undistinguishable, but it’s there.

We’ll stay here for a while until I know Reaper is good and gone.

I don’t love that I took matters into my own hands. I’d have preferred to talk it out, make sense of things, come to an agreement. But some people are beyond reasoning with, and Dillon is one of them.

Men like me stay outcasts for a reason. We don’t give second chances, we don’t fuck around, and we don’t allow anyone to hurt the people we love.

Knowing Bunny and that baby are safe is all I need to know. Everything else is background noise.