Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (20 page)

“Look at
me, you filthy bitch,” he seethes as one last sob tears through me. I crane my head toward him and look through his rage and hate. I look deep into his face, his eyes. I look until I can see through all the hurt and anger, I look until I see my Cane. His expression shifts then and his gaze drops slightly. The whole world is torn, shifting off its axis. None of this is right. None of it makes sense. I can feel his indecision and torment. I can see my Cane battling this new one. This, surely, is what hell is like.

PART II

Cane

“Did you really think we could play
Where’s Waldo
forever, Cy?” I laugh cynically. I see the realization of my name choice register on her face. It’s a bad sign and she knows it. I rip the bandana from her mouth. “I’ve been killing you since the day we met. You were always better than me, Cy, you came from a different world. I should have never let you see my world.” My voice trails off as I finish, dragging a hand down over my face in frustration. “You think I'm a scumbag, right?” I say hoarsely. God, her eyes. How could I ever think I’d be able to look into those eyes and inflict torture? I’m so angry. So hurt, but still, I care for her.

“I’m not here to judge you,” she answers softly.

“What am I supposed to do,
Mags
?” I plead. I can see it in her eyes, her love for me, devotion. It tears me apart from the inside out.

“Are you
afraid, Cy?” She could pretend she wasn’t but that wouldn’t help. I see the choice - she shoots for honesty.

“Yes, I’m afraid.” Her voice shakes.

“Of me?” She nods, keeping her eyes focused on the wall to the left.

“Why are you afraid of
me, Cy?” I ask, my voice making a strangled sound.

“Because you’re here to kill me.” My hand snaps out to her chin and lifts it until her eyes meet mine. I am. She’s right. I was sent to kill her. I have a job to do. But her face, her scent, her voice – they’ve fucked with my head to the point that I don’t know how to do what I’m supposed to now.

“Is that what you really think?” I whisper.

“What am I supposed to think?” she answers, wide-eyed.

“Cypress,” I seethe.

“It’s Magnolia now. Why are you doing this?” I avert my eyes. I don’t want to see her face. It wrecks me on so many levels.

“After what you did to me I’m not sure you get to ask questions,” I grind out.

“Yet, here I am, asking,” she replies with
snark.

“You always did say whatever was on your mind.” I smirk but it fades
 quickly. “Cy, no one knows what it’s like to fall in love with the wrong person more than I do.” I can see my words cut through her walls and it shreds my heart to hurt her like this. “I thought you might feel like you owed me.”

“Owed you?!” she screeches.

“Mags,” I start.

“I thought I accidentally killed my soul mate. Please God, tell me how you can possibly trump that!” she shrieks.
What did she just say?
She accidentally killed her soul mate? Her expression is guilt-ridden. Filled with sorrow and hurt.

“I thought you meant to shoot Ezra. I thought you meant to take the money. I thought you meant to leave me...and then...I thought you didn’t give a shit that you left me for dead. You just moved on. Disappeared.” FUCK, I feel so torn. What is the truth? She seems stunned and it makes me question everything Ezra’s told me.

“It doesn't matter now. I thought that part of my life was over,” she laments.

“How can you say that?!” I slam my fists down on the mattress on either side of her. She waits, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, until she thinks I’m calmer. She was always doing that. Waiting on me to change, to calm down, to be reasonable enough that she could get through to me.

“Because the moment I saw you, alive, it dawned on me - I finally realized that despite the shitty way everything ended, you were it for me, Cane. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before...or since. I don’t want to ruin you more than I already have, by manipulating you into something that might be bad for you. Just take me back to Ezra. I couldn't bear it if you ended up hurt or worse, because of me, again.” Her words shock me. I’ve just violated her in ways that would make most women shut down and she’s being complacent out of concern for me?

“It was the same for me,” I
whisper, not meeting her eyes. “I loved you so damned much, Mags. You own me. Even now. Even after all the shit.” I admit.

“I get
it, Cane. But don’t think that just because I understand, I care.” She exhales. What? Who is this hard cynical woman? Magnolia, my Magnolia was all beauty. She was all heart. What have I done? Have I really broken an amazing woman? Have I done this?

“Salvation is a choice. You have to choose to go there,” I say surprising myself.

“Did you choose it, Cane? Because if you’re what salvation looks like, I don’t want any part of it. You look as lifeless and empty as I feel,” she spits, and glares at me. "It's one thing for someone you wronged to forgive you; it's a completely different game trying to forgive yourself," she says looking defeated.

“I loved
you, Mags. LOVED you! I had to live knowing that you went on living even though you thought I was dead. Knowing that
you
tried to kill my uncle, knowing that instead you
shot
me
and left me for dead. All this time...” I rant, “…all this time you went on living your life thinking you killed me. You
should
look lifeless and empty. I didn’t betray you!” I bark. She betrayed me in the worst way possible.
Or did she?

“You don’t know what you’re talking
about, Cane. Why? Why would I have done that? I had
you.
I had everything I needed with you! It was always enough for me just having you!” she wails at me. “THINK, goddamnit! I had no motive! If I meant to kill Ezra and leave you, how would I have taken the money? You wouldn’t have been home!” she screams.

“
Jesus, Mags, all I’ve
done
is think about why for the last fourteen months! Tell me!” I growl at her. She hangs her head to the side in shame. It runs so deep and transparent that it consumes me. The memory of that night eats at me. It still doesn’t make sense. No matter what lines or lies or truths Ezra’s told me it doesn’t add up. I don’t care how this ends for me, I can't imagine living without her again. Not now. Not after touching her, smelling her, hearing her voice again.

“Cane…” she whispers and looks up at me through her lashes. God, those lashes. They should be illegal but all her eyes scream is broken. She is broken. Something is driving her now and it’s something I don’t understand. “Do what you have to do, take me back to Ezra, but please,
please, baby, make these last days for me my best yet. Love me. Be mine, don’t hate me until we get back home,” she pleads. “If I’m going to die, let my last days be lived out the way I’d always dreamed my life would be. With you, Cane, in love.” She drops her head and stares as a single tear leaks out of her eye and rolls down her cheek at the thought of all we were supposed to have but didn’t. For all the dreams we had for us that came screeching to a halt. She’s prepared for me, or Ezra I guess. She’s prepared for her fate. I can see the confusion lingering in her expression, seeing me, threw her and she’s changing her game plan.

“
Mags,” I croak before tilting her chin up so she’s forced to meet my gaze. The rough pad of my thumb swipes across her soft cheek, brushing the tear away. “I never could say no to you,” I mumble. My heart feels like it might burst with affection, hope and love. In a quick fluid motion that makes her flinch, I cut the ties at her wrists and then her ankles. There is no way I am going to be the one to take her down. She looks so beautiful, it’s always so damned hard not to kiss her. Even if the offer was on the table, I couldn't kiss her now. I’m sure we’d both combust if our lips collided. It’s been too long. There are too many charred remains haunting us both. She saved my life. She taught me everything. About life, hope and the long journey ahead. I'll always miss her. But our love is like the wind. I can't see it, but I can feel it. If nothing else, the last year has taught me that I don't need her physically around to survive.

“I love
you, Cane Ash.” she sniffles sitting up, rubbing her wrists and seemingly unconcerned at her toplessness. “I’ve loved you since I slipped in milk when I was seventeen.” She breaks down in a mess of tears. Now that they have started she can’t seem to shut them off. I pull her into my chest and hold her tightly to me while she cries it all out. I shouldn’t but there isn’t anything else my body would let me do. Ever since the day we met it seemed my sole purpose was to keep her safe, untouched...pure.

“Me too,
Mags, me too.” I say into her hair, “but how the fuck are we going to pull this off?” I say more to myself than to her. She shakes her head in my chest because she has no better idea how we’re going to do this. We fall into silence punctuated by a radio playing softly in the background and my lips connecting with the soft spot just behind her ear. My senses catch fire at the feel of her skin. Just like before. My core trembles at the new feeling stirring inside me, not hate, not rage, something softer, something more tender. Something I haven’t felt in over a year.

“There are more than five hundred million firearms in worldwide distribution, Cane. That's one firearm for every eleven people on the planet.” he said. “Selling a gun for the first time is a lot like having sex for the first time. You remember that, yeah? You're excited but you don't really know what the hell you're doing. And some way, one way or another, it's over too fast.” I’d nodded my head, unsure how else to respond to him.

“The first and most important rule of gun-running is: Never get shot with your own product. The second rule of gun-running is: Always ensure you have a way of getting paid.” His words made me feel uneasy but ever since Dad died he was in charge. I didn’t really have a choice. “Bullets change governments as votes
do, Cane, remember that. Of all the weapons available, nothing is more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova model of 1947 or the AK-47. It's the world's most popular assault rifle. A simple nine pound combination of steel and plywood. It doesn't break, jam, or overheat. It's so easy, even a kid can use it; and they do.” My Uncle Ezra’s crew imports and sells weapons to almost every street gang throughout the bible belt and he is set on grooming me to take over the family business someday. I know it’s not for me but I don’t have a choice, you don’t walk away from the family without consequences, like, death and at fifteen, I’m well aware that I’m too young to die. “Sometimes, we have to make deals with lowlifes because we’ve got our sights set on life forms even lower on the low life ladder than they are. Those men are dangerous. You need to remember that. They have nothing and therefore they give a shit about nothing. Adapt or die, Cane.”

Her face is pretty nasty looking. She needs stitches at the bridge of her nose and has two decent black eyes. It’s all puffy and black and blue and I’ve never felt like such a sick asshole in all my life. I watch as she lays still in my arms fast asleep. We must have dozed off at some point after the adrenaline waned, but I’m not complaining. I’ve dreamed of her in my arms for so long it’s surreal having it be true. She shivers slightly and I position myself around her a little more to keep her warm. Her lips form this perfect little heart shape when she sleeps, all pink and swollen with sleep. Short puffs of air move out from that perfect heart shape. I let my fingers drift over the exposed parts of her enormous tattoo. I’m in absolute shock that she has one. Even more so that she got a magnolia tree. That she permanently marked herself with me. The tattoo, the name change, it’s all confusing as shit. A woman who means to kill. To steal. To leave, doesn’t brand herself the ways she has for the person she left. I can’t sort it out in my head. Her breath sputters and wheezes a little, no doubt from her swollen face and I can’t help but cringe. I roll off the bed gently so I don’t wake her, pull the sleeping bag from the corner and spread it over her gently. I allow myself one last look at her sleeping form before I leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind me.

I pull my cell from my pocket and dial Ezra. I lean against the hood of the car and on the third ring he picks up.

“You set?” he clips.

“Yes.”

“Shit,” he hisses.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ll send someone to you. Where’d you break down?” he says covertly.

“I don’t need someone. I’m
fine,” I bark into the phone.

“Fuck, Cane, I can hear it in your
voice, son. You’ve gone soft,” he growls at me.

“
Jesus, Ez, calm down.” I grind my palm into one of my eyes to relieve the building pressure. I can’t let him figure things out. “No one’s soft. She put up a damn good fight and I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” I lie.

“You know the rules, we don’t discuss business on the
phone,” he booms.

“Sorry.
Tired,” I retort and sigh.