Just Let Me Love You (13 page)

Kay

I
don’t like this plan. I don’t like it at all.

As Chase and I make a turn onto the disturbingly named Vulture Mine Road, full darkness descends, turning the mountains to shadowy silhouettes.

The night has an ominous vibe, prompting me to say to Chase¸ “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling or not,” he replies, “I have to help my brother.”

“I know,” I whisper, accepting his decision.

Still, when Chase slows to an almost stop, I place my hand on his arm. “I’m not suggesting you not help Will. I just want you to promise to be extra careful.”

Chase is so big and strong and capable, but he
is
just a man. He’s not a superhero like the lead character in Will’s comic book, the one I know in my heart Will modeled after his older brother.

Chase pulls off the road and the rental car dips down into a gravel turn-out. After turning off the ignition, he turns to me.

I lean over to him so he can enfold me in his strong arms. “I’ll be careful,” he assures me.

I’m strong for Chase. I don’t let him see any of the tears building in my eyes, even though all I feel like doing is crying in his arms.

After a hug—which lasts a while, but not long enough—Chase pulls away. Slowly, he opens the driver’s-side door, allowing the dome light to bathe him in an orangey kind of glow.

His light-brown hair looks slightly coppery, and I reach over and run my fingers through the soft locks. “You have two sides to you, Chase, and I love them both,” I softly proclaim.

His eyes go to mine, his blues questioning. “Two sides?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply as I tug gently on the ends of his hair. “Soft,” I say, combing through the silky strands. “And hard.” My hand moves to the rough stubble on Chase’s jaw. “Like this.”

I touch his lips, mouthing the word, “Soft.”

He smiles.

I laugh.

Lowering my hand, I grasp his solid bicep. “And hard,” I nod and raise my eyebrows. “Actually very hard,” I add. “Impressive.”

This time, Chase is the one to laugh. But he quiets when I skim my hand across his chest and stop at his heart.

“Soft” I whisper, “so very soft.”

Chase grabs my hand. “Kay…”

His eyes say everything he doesn’t—or cannot—say.

“Go,” I tell him, turning away. “Go, before I try and stop you.”

I hear him sigh.

I hear him close the door.

And then he’s gone.

The outcome of the night now lies in fate’s hands.

Will

A
m I making a mistake? Is this the right thing to do?

Truth is, I don’t know.

Why does it seem I always have questions, but never any answers?

I know what Chase would say to me. He’d tell me I’m throwing my life away. He’s big nowadays on keeping on task. But in the same breath, Chase is always urging me to be courageous.

He says shit like, “Follow your heart, Will. But always try to be a good man.”

Well, saving Cassie from Paul seems like something a “good” man would take care of. Right?

In any case, I have no choice. I have to try. See, Cassie doesn’t have a father to do things like protect her from crazy perverts. Her dad died several years ago, same as mine. My deal—though rotten—was still better than hers. Better because I have an older brother who’d lay his life down for me.

Cassie has no one but me. That’s why I’m manning up. Someone has to take care of this fucked-up situation.

And we need a solution that is permanent.

I drive out to the deep desert, not far from where Chase and I were earlier in the day.

Shit, now that I think on it, this whole week has been great. Riding Dad’s old Indian, what a trip that has been. Mom’s had that thing in the garage for ages. Greg usually ignores it, but I sometimes catch my mom out there, staring at that bike like it holds some answer she’s been looking for. She gets that faraway look in her eyes, the same look she gets anytime she’s lost in her memories of my dad.

Dad.
I shake my head.

This family. Sometimes, I swear…

I just thank God for Chase. If it wasn’t for this thing with Cass hanging over my fucking head, I’d count the past few days spent with my brother as some of the best.

Spending time with Chase was always good. Well, until it wasn’t. But it’s good again these days, and that’s all that counts. It’s a relief, a lifting of a burden. I spent too many years of my young life harboring a lot of resentment towards my older brother. I hated that he’d turned to drugs and fucked up his life.

But I learned toting around all that hate in your heart is a heavy burden. I’m just glad we fixed that shit. Though, I have to say I finally understand where Chase was back then. I’ve used drugs lately to escape, too. It’s an easy fix.

Just like violence, which is what I’m about to do.

However, one thing is different from Chase’s past: I won’t let my ass end up in prison.

So why am I taking a chance like this?

Because I have to; I’m committed to this shit now. And if this thing goes down how Cass and I planned, we will be rid of Paul…for good.

The plan is a good one, I think. I’m supposed to pick up Cass straight-away after the deed is done. She and I will then head down to Mexico, to lay low for a while.

I figure we can find an empty beach somewhere. We can live in a tent, and I’ll find some kind of work for money. Cassie says she’ll work, too.

So, yeah, we’ll make it. And someday maybe I can return.

I sure hope that’s true, because thinking on it now, I know for sure I’m gonna miss my mom…and my brother. They’re all I’ve really got in this shitty world.

My eyes blur with tears, and I swipe them away. “Pussy,” I hiss. “Man up, dude.”

I turn onto Vulture Mine Road.

Shit
. This is far too real.

Glad I skipped the pills Cassie had at her house. I’d really be a wreck if I’d thrown back a few of those. Partying, glad I’ve slowed that shit down.

Or, rather, I’ve tried to.

Cassie, though, she’s one crazy chick. She’s all about getting fucked up. I just haven’t been into it much lately. Things in my life have been better, and I haven’t felt that need to shut things out.

Glancing up at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I ask, “So, why are you doing this shit now, dumbass?”

I don’t have an answer—not one for myself, not one for the world—so I focus back on the road. I’m waylaid, though, when my eyes are drawn to the glint of something silver lying on the passenger seat.

The gun
.

I glance over at the pistol I bought from Chase’s ex-dealer, Kyle Tanner.

That dude, what a trip.

Snorting, I reach over and grab the gun. I rest the piece in my lap, but when the cold metal starts to feel like it’s seeping through my jeans and right into my fucking skin, I move the gun back to the seat next to me.

I return to focusing on my task at hand as I continue down the road. It will be dark soon, and already there are lights ahead. I shudder when I realize the glow is from Paul’s trailer, less than a mile away.

That trailer is the only sign of civilization for miles.

I hit the gas, driving beyond the trailer. Eventually, I pull off and park in a truck turnout.

Shutting down the engine, I whisper to dead air, “Showtime, kid.”

Then again, maybe not.

I may sound all confident, but it’s a lie, a sham. The truth is I’m scared to death. And that makes me just kind of freeze up on the spot.

Dude, this is real
, I tell myself for the hundredth time.

What’s it going to feel like to kill someone? Damn, that is some serious jail time if I am caught. Not to mention the moral aspect. Sure, Paul is a prick, but this is fucking murder.

“I am too sober for this shit,” I mutter.

I don’t want drugs—I need to be sharp—but I sure could use another shot right now. Too bad I didn’t think to grab one of the bottles of booze before leaving Cassie’s place. I had no idea my buzz would wear off so quickly.

I guess coming to grips with the fact you’re about to off someone has a way of sobering you up.

I pick up the gun and check to make sure it’s loaded.

I know it is, but it’s an opportunity to stall.

Before I open the car door, I think about a conversation I had with Chase a couple of days ago. He asked me about Cass. He wanted to know if I loved her. My reply was, “I guess.”

Chase then told me I was too young to be involved in something so serious; especially when my best answer as to whether or not I loved my girlfriend was “I guess.”

I was only being truthful with my response. Sure, I tell Cassie I love her—and a part of me does—but that wasn’t what Chase was asking.

He wanted to know if Cassie was my Kay.

And that I don’t know.

I’d like to hope she is—that’d be cool—but I kind of know deep inside she is not.

“So, why the fuck are you about to murder someone for her then?” I ask myself aloud.

I push the thought away swiftly.

“Let’s just get this done,” I murmur, opening the car door, at last.

I step out and walk up to the road.

There is not a soul in sight.

The lights in Paul’s trailer flicker shades of blue. He must be watching TV, changing the channels. Good, let him be distracted; that way I’ll get the jump on him.

Walking along the side of the road, closing in on Paul’s trailer, I review the plan. It’s simple, really.

Find Paul.

Kill Paul.

Get the fuck out of Dodge.

So if it’s so simple, why am I having doubts?

No time to think on it further. I’m at the trailer.

I hurry to the back, where I take a quick peek in a dirt-smeared window.

Paul is inside, of course. He’s sitting on a reclining chair, and, as I thought, watching TV. I remind myself that the reason he’s even home and in the trailer is because he’s expecting Cassie.

Prick.
I raise the gun so the muzzle rests against the glass.

I could shoot him from here. The back of his head is facing my way, and I have a good angle.

I close one eye and aim.

And aim.

And aim again.

Shit.
My hand is shaking too much. In fact, I’m shaking so much that the gun
tap-tap-taps
at the window before I can steady my arm enough to lower it to my side.

And now I am fucked.

“What the hell was that?” Paul bellows from inside the trailer.

Fear overtakes me. It consumes me. I absolutely cannot do this. I’m out of my league here. I am not a killer. Cass and I will have to find another way to take care of Paul. Killing him is obviously not going to be the answer. I just don’t have it in me to commit murder in cold blood.

Sorry, Cassie.

I run to the front of the trailer just as Paul emerges from the door.

I take off—faster, faster—but he catches up to me and tackles me, shoving me to the ground. I’m pinned, but I still struggle and fight.

I get the gun pointed at the prick at one point, but he’s in his twenties and I’m only in my teens. He’s a man, and I’m a boy.

Paul is much stronger and easily wrestles the .45 from my grasp.

Pointing the gun—
my
gun—in my face, he spits out, “You little fuck, what are you doing out here? And what’s with the gun? You and that little bitch come up with this shit? You think you can come here and just shoot me?” He laughs. “Guess that plan is fucked all to hell now, huh?”

He chuckles again, but underneath he sounds outraged.

Somehow I muster the courage to say, “Just stay the hell away from Cass, all right?”

Paul’s response is another laugh.

And then he quits laughing and hits me in the side of the head with the gun. That shit hurts like hell.

“Fuck,” I grunt as hot blood begins to trickle down my temple.

Paul palms the gun and smirks down at me.
Evil bastard.
It’s clear from the angle of his body that he’s about to slam the .45 down on my face. I close my eyes and wince, waiting for the sure to be bone-crushing blow.

But it never comes.

Instead, I open my eyes and watch as someone behind Paul delivers one solid hit to his head. With what, I don’t know.

Paul crumples onto me and I am blinded by his bulk. I struggle to escape, pushing at his limp form.

Suddenly, someone pulls Paul off of me.

When I’m free, I look up and find my rescuer—Chase.

“Should I even be surprised?” I say, astounded, shocked, and happy all at the same time.

“You all right?” my big brother asks as he offers me his hand.

I take his hand and let him lift me to my feet. “Yeah, I think so,” I reply.

Once I’m upright, I brush myself off, glance over at Paul. He’s prone on his back, not moving.

Turning back to Chase, I see a bloody pipe in his hand. “You hit him with that?” I ask, eyes widening.

Chase nods grimly as he tosses the heavy piece of steel to the ground.

Shit, we can’t leave things like this
.

Swiftly, and with no hesitation, I drop to my knees. With the edge of my T-shirt, I pick up the pipe and wipe away my brother’s prints.