Page 20 of Beautiful Killer

CHAPTER SEVEN

Zeke

My fist connected with the bag hanging from my warehouse rafters and I felt my skin pull taut, close to splitting. I didn’t care. I needed to pound the fuck out of something until I couldn’t move, couldn’t walk, couldn’t goddamn think anymore. The faces of my men, what was left of them, flashed thought my mind like a strobe—then Sunny’s face again, the sound of her cries . . . shit, I was positive I could smell her scent, feel her hair trailing down my chest. My subconscious was showing me like some morbid, torturous film what I’d done, what my punishment was. Because walking away from her felt like a punishment, one I deserved, for losing focus, for allowing myself to be happy for the hours I’d spent with her.

I roared, hitting the bag harder. This time the skin did split, and still I kept wailing on it.

It had been two weeks since I’d seen her. I knew now I’d fucked myself good spending time with her, allowing myself to have her. Before her, I had direction, I knew where the path I chose would lead. I was more than okay with that, it was all I’d thought about for the last eighteen months. Working, taking down the bad guys, making up for what I’d done in some small way. I got up every morning with purpose, with focus, I went through the motions of living, I got the job done. I had my pain, a goal, an eventual end in the not-too-distant future. Because the jobs I’d been throwing myself into, the risks I’d taken, guys like me didn’t last long, and I was more than okay with that. Shit, I’d wanted it, sooner rather than later.

Then I’d met Sunny and it had fucked me up, because I wasn’t okay with it anymore. I wanted, shit, longed for things I had struck of my life’s to-do list.

I threw one last punch and sunk to the bench seat along the wall, downing the bottle of water I’d left there. I would beat this. I would get her out of my head. Then things could go back to the way they were . . . before Sunny blew into my world and sent me into a tailspin.

My phone beeped beside me, alerting me to a text message. I checked the screen. My mother, again.

Made any room in your busy schedule for us yet?

Fuck. She was relentless.

I will.

My short answer would more than likely piss her off, but I didn’t know what the hell to say. I’d been making excuses for over a year to avoid going home. The phone beeped again and I quickly read it.

If you’re worried about seeing that bitch Diane, don’t be. She knows better than to come anywhere near me.

I hadn’t really thought about Diane since I found her sucking some other asshole’s dick. Before my last deployment, I would have been cut up over what she’d done, cheating on me, getting rid of our baby like she had without even telling me. I’d wanted a wife, a family, to be happy like my own parents had always been. That’s what I’d always seen for myself. I’d looked forward to it. Now? I was relieved she did what she had. I sure as hell wouldn’t make a good husband or father to anyone. I wouldn’t be around long anyway. The last thing I wanted was to hurt my own child by checking out on them. I’d hurt enough people already.

I tapped out a reply.Don’t care about Diane, Ma. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something sorted.

I felt shit for lying to her, but I couldn’t go back there.

Someone banged on the roller door to the garage and I climbed to my feet. Only one person came here and I wasn’t in the mood for company, but Van had been there for me, had come through when I had nowhere else to go.

I dragged up the door and raised a brow at the guy standing on the other side.

Van was holding beer and a pizza. His eyes dropped to my hands. “You forgot your gloves. You’re bleeding all over the floor.”

I glanced down. Shrugged.

“You hungry?”

“Sure.” He followed me through to the other side of the warehouse, and through the door to my living space. I carried on up to my room and Van hit the couch. I heard the hiss of a beer opening and the TV flick on behind me. I changed and went down to join him. One of the things I liked most about Van was he knew when to shut up. We sat in companionable silence and watched a game, ate pizza, and drank beer for over an hour before he said anything more. Van didn’t like useless chatter, either. I think that’s why we got on so well when we met in high school.

“You want another beer?” Van asked when he stood and headed to the fridge.

“Yeah.”

He grabbed them and handed me one. “So that night, up on the roof . . .”

I stilled, I knew exactly the night he meant. When he found me on my knees all but begging some asshole to shoot me. The night I met Sunny. I’d hoped he’d leave it, that he’d let it drop. I was obviously wrong, instead he’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

“Did you even try to disarm him?” Van asked.

I took a sip of my beer. “He had a gun pointed at my head.”

“Never stopped you before.”

He was right. I hadn’t even tried and Van hadn’t missed it.