Comin' Home to You (42 page)

The sound of a loud gun blared through the wild.

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Kicking open the back door of the house, Bird Dog tripped in, using the kitchen island to keep from falling on his face. His body was in a world of pain. He took a bullet right below his shoulder and another one grazed his cheek. Half of his lower face was crusty red from blood. It was the same for half of his body. But for now, he was alive, and there was one thing he wanted.

He didn’t know if it was because she was forbidden fruit, being the chief of police’s wife, or if there was something about the fact that she had kids and was still attractive, but for as long as he could recall, Bird Dog had wanted to fornicate with Ben’s wife, Taylor. Her dark hair, pleasant body and motherly features that he knew damn well from masturbating to MILF pornography had driven him batty since he laid eyes on her. He would never get another chance like this one. No one could stop him, especially not her husband, who was lying in a pool of blood outside. He doubted that she would go willingly for a man of his stature, but he’d have his way in the end. He was likely going to prison anyway. Might as well end it on a high note. It was his parents that instilled the fact that jail time wasn’t anything to stress about. Of course, they spent most of their lives in there.

“Hey Taylor!?” thundered Bird Dog. “Where are ya, purty lady?”

There was only silence, which he expected. He still held out hope for his imagined scenario, in which he dreamed that she would emerge in some black lingerie hooked up to some black stockings. Her dark hair would be curled and she would have on plenty of eye shadow. Black high heels would fit the set. In his perfect fantasy, she would squat down and undo the button on his pants and ease them down and…

Bird Dog shook his head briskly to snap out of whatever zone he was in, suddenly realizing he was way too into his daydream. He looked down to notice he was fully erect. His chubby face smiled, pleased that he was ready to go. He just needed to find Taylor. He gazed around the living room. The window was broken and the carpet was blackened and burnt in places. He figured it was BJ’s work, since he brought along the molotov and was way too excited to use it.

Shrugging his shoulders, he continued his search for that hot piece of ass. His horny mood took a slight detour, when he saw a body in a puddle of blood in the hallway. There lay BJ, his best friend in the whole world. He had a feeling when he could hear the sounds of automatic fire from outside that he had met his maker. After this was over and he had fucked Taylor harder than she ever had, he would drink to BJ’s honor and memory. It was the least he could do. But there was no time for mourning. His carnal desire for sex had pummeled any other emotions into the dirt.

Stepping over his best friend’s corpse, he noticed a door closed over. Easing it open, he walked into a spacious bedroom, with a lavishly colored bedspread, an expensive looking dresser and a large screen television that had something from the Home and Gardens channel playing. The blinds of the window were open, letting it bright white light into the room. This was the master bedroom. Looking at the bed, he deemed it perfect to support the fucking that would be going down on it.

An odd sound, like a shoe scooting on the ground, could be heard from behind the closed door inside the bedroom. Grabbing his crotch and ignoring the pain that his body was experiencing, Bird Dog strutted toward the door. He tried to turn the door handle, but it was locked. She had to be in there. No one would lock a bathroom door unless someone was on the other side.

He didn’t waste time knocking politely. Bird Dog took a few steps back, then ran a shoulder through the door. It opened, breaking the latch and cracking the door, causing it to smack the wall behind it from his force and weight. The first thing he saw was Taylor sitting on the closed toilet with dripping wash rags wrapped around her hands. Water was running full blast in the sink. When he slammed through, Taylor’s head shot up. She never heard him coming.

“Who-what the? Don’t come any closer!” freaked out Taylor. Her clothing ensemble did not match his fantasy. It wasn’t close.

“Easy there. I came here for a reason. We can do this the easy way or a not as easy way.”

“What? Are you implying…BEN! BEN! HELP!”

“He ain’t gonna help you, darling. He’s gone, girl.”

“No! NO! NO, HE’S NOT!”

Bird Dog eased closer. His gun was in his hand, but he had no intention of threatening her with it. “Just forget about him. I’ll take care of ya now. Let me show ya how.”

A bar of soap came flying at him, hitting him square in his cheek wound. It stung, causing his body to shake in a quick agony. Just that was enough to set him off. He put his gun on the sink counter. He felt like getting his hands dirty. “Alright, bitch. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

Bird Dog went for her loose blue zip up jacket. He grabbed it, latching on like lobster claws and pulled her toward him. She did her best to resist him, though she screamed in pain each time her wrapped hands made contact with him. The washrags on her left hand fell off, revealing a bright red hand. It turned him off a little bit. He presumed that she took the brunt of that molotov in the living room. His precious fantasy now had a slight deformity. But he looked past it, ripping the jacket off with ease. The white tanktop under that was also ripped off, leaving her only with a black sports bra and her yoga pants. She managed to squeeze out of his grasp, backing away to the bathtub. Tears streamed down her face and she exposed a look of unparalleled terror. Bird Dog wished she didn’t look so frightened. It would all be over soon.

A devilish look took over his mug. Just a couple more articles of clothing needed to be removed, a little force and he’d have what he craved. In the meantime, Taylor was reaching into the bathtub behind her for something else to throw. He didn’t really feel like taking anymore abuse. Pleasure is what he needed. He wasn’t particularly sexually active due to his size and looks. The last time he had sex may have been last Labor Day, when he managed to score with a young, impressionable girl fresh out of high school who thought he was funny. But today, the dry spell would end, and it would end with a hot mother. He couldn’t wait a second longer. Extending his arm and ready to grab her, Taylor’s arm raised from inside the tub. Bird Dog was curious as to what soap or shampoo she was hoping to bonk him with. What she took out was black, metallic and aiming right at his head.

“Oh sh-”

The piercing sound of a handgun firing at close range made Taylor’s ears ring. Blood splattered from Bird Dog’s head and onto her face. It was disgusting and vile, making her gag. Some of it got in her mouth.

It was more than enough for her to stare down deep into the scented blue-watered toilet, throwing up loudly. She cried in between heaves as Bird Dog slumped to the side of the room, pouring blood from his now useless head.

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Owen swiftly awoke into the new world with the sensation of his head emerging from a large ocean. His eyes took a moment to adjust. When they did, the first thing he noticed was how bland and dank his afterlife was. The world looked dark, with little bits of light peeking out of the ceiling. The ground below him felt soft and gritty. It was hot and humid, making him wonder if he was sent to the Christian Hell. He admitted to doing a lot of bad things, but he wasn’t expecting to be punished so severely by the almighty Lord.

His eyes grew heavy again.
Why can I not keep them open? So damn sleepy.
Seeing no other recourse, he let his eyelids fall.

Until another splash caused him to awaken for good. He rose his upper body upward and examined his surroundings. It was still muggy and a little dark, but he could tell the sun still shined high above the foliage of the trees. He look around in a panic. It was becoming clear as to where he still was. His bloody hand grabbed at his head, realizing that his hair was soaking wet. It wasn’t raining, so his still woozy mind questioned where the hell that water came from.

“So you’re alive.”

Owen turned behind him, then immediately grabbed at his back in pain. Realization set in. He had not died…yet. Behind him was Nicky. Drops of sweat were falling down his face and he was holding an empty bottle of water in one hand and Owen’s gun in the other.

His voice was distorted through the agonizing pain, but Owen managed to get some words out. “Nicky, what…what the hell happened?”

“Well, what do you last remember?”

“Clint holding that rifle to my head.”

“Ah, well, I decided to do you and I guess the whole world a favor. I killed Clint. Used your gun and put a bullet clear through his head.”

Owen couldn’t believe it. “No way. Wasn’t he your friend?”

“Him? Fuck no. I just tolerated him because he was Scar’s brother. Couldn’t stand that little fuck. He had it coming. He’s fucked a lot of shit up.”

Looking around at everything, he just now noticed Clint’s dead body with a hole in the back of his head lying just a couple of feet by him. The sight brought on quiet and relieved joy, though Owen didn’t display it outwardly. “Huh. So…about everything that just happened…you going to fill me in on why you’re here or what?”

“I suppose so. Clint and I came here to kill Scar. Yeah, why the fuck would you do that is what I am sure you are about to ask. The higher ups in the 20’s told me to.”

“Why? Doesn’t seem like an order you’d accept.”

“They threatened my wife and kids.”

“Oh.” Owen could empathize with that. He didn’t know how else to respond.

“I’ll keep it short, man. They didn’t like Scar. They didn’t like that he was an untrustworthy Grayson. They didn’t like that he was a prime candidate to run things when they were gone. They thought he would ruin years and years of bullshit that they created. They fuckin’ acted like they built some fucking museum or something. It’s just a damn drug and gun running ring. But, since I was the closest to Scar, they asked me to take care of it. And they gave me some incentives.”

“What? Money?”

“What else? I deserve it. My family deserves it. They even told me Scar had been shorting me all these years to save money for his beloved nephew. What else could I do?”

“Was he?”

Nicky rubbed at his head and wiped the sweat off of his nose. “I think so, but I’ll never know to what extent.” He took a glance over to the body of Scar. “But it shouldn’t have gone down like this.”

There was something somber in Nicky’s attitude. He never wanted this to happen. Owen could tell. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“The fuck if I know. This is just too much. This is not how this shit was supposed to go. I shouldn’t have asked Clint to help. He fucked everything sky high. I shouldn’t have even accepted. I should’ve said no to that piece of Italian shit Passerini and that old fuck Paxton. They did this! They always hated Scar. All this shit was because of their personal vendettas. This is bullshit. How the hell is Luella…she helped raise me. Now she has to find out all her boys are dead? This is fucked up. So fucked up.”

Groaning in pain, Owen slowly eased his way up to a standing position. Blood was still coming out of the hole in his back. How much blood he had left, he hadn’t a clue. But as dizzy as he was feeling, he had to be running low. The pain in his face was excruciating too. Clint put quite the beating on him. Staring at Nicky, he could see worry and indecisiveness. It appeared he was cracking under all of this pressure. “Well, shit.”

“This is so fucking stupid.” Nicky clutched at his chest.

Owen didn’t want to ask what was wrong. It was visible something was amiss with Nicky, but there was no need to point it out. He had his own problems anyway. Fighting the ability to stay awake was one of them. Time was running out. “You still have my gun?”

Nicky looked at the gun in his hand, then tossed it to him. It hit softly on loose dirt. Owen picked it up, though bending over just made his back hurt worse. With his shirt, he wiped the handle clean, then placed his bare hand back around it to reestablish his fingerprints. He placed it back on the ground and stumbled to Nicky. “Let’s go.”

“You takin’ the wrap?”

“No one’s got to know you were even here.”

“I don’t fucking get it.”

“You don’t need to. See these bodies? It was just a disagreement between the brothers and me. In the end, I’m the one that killed them both. Nicky Suarez was not here. Now…they’re dead and…I’m about to be.”

Nicky grit his teeth. He understood, but everything was still eating at him. “What do you mean? Go get that shit taken care of at a hospital, man.”

Owen shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. “I can be at peace because I finally won. Austin ain’t going to have to worry about anything anymore. Never again will he have to worry about getting beat by his dad or Scar leading him into a life of crime. I’ve won. He’s free. My daughter’s free. I…” Owen almost stumbled and fell. He felt like he was at his most drunk. “Can you help me to the car?”

It took a moment for Nicky to answer, but he nodded and agreed. He wrapped Owen’s arm around his shoulder and supported him on the walk back to Ali’s car. Once in the driver’s seat, Owen tried to fight through his pain and not show it. He looked at Nicky, who was fidgeting and nervous, like he had something to say.