“Fuck,” I scream out in frustration.
Is there a right choice when it comes to saving someone from their black and white world? Especially when you know your life is much more dangerous?
Right now, I know what my dick would say. He’d say get the girl, fuck her, and make sure no other man will ever compare.
My brain, on the other hand, warns I’m about to be domesticated.
My gut says this is going to cause a lot of deaths.
Fuck.
A sharp pinging echoes through the car, my phone alarm warning me it’s seven p.m.
Mitzy’s going to fucking kill me. I’m going to be late as hell and I doubt she’s going to be happy when I get home.
Ever since Lucifer had to fucking go and get his ass hitched to Lily, the inner circle has been falling like dominoes.
And I can feel I’m the next to fall.
Dammit. I was so careful, so damn careful all those years, and he had to go become a real adult and marry Lily. Now all of us are fucking getting married and having kids.
Kids.
Is that the next step after finally getting my hands on Sophia and fucking her into oblivion? Are kids and a mortgage on some huge house the next step?
Why the hell am I even bothering to complain?
It’s not like being with Mitzy really gives me anything beyond having a little bed warmer at night and affection.
What if Sophia isn’t cool with other chicks though? What if she doesn’t dig the long hair Mitzy has?
Shaking my head at all the swirling thoughts, I glance at the dashboard. With every minute I’ve spent driving toward Sophia, I can feel the maelstrom of emotions that’s been building over the past seven months getting ready to erupt.
I’m so ready for this fucking wait to be over with. I’ve waited long enough for this to end one way or the other.
But…
I’m not ready for anything serious though, right? Just need a bone from her and I can finally go on my way. Back to the life of guns, violence, and sex.
That though…
Fuck.
That doesn’t feel right though, does it?
I need to make my damn mind up. Make a fucking choice and stick with it.
In high school, I chose to lock-pick my way to perfect final grades. I chose to cheat on the SATs.
And I chose to join the Marines instead of doing jail time. I even chose to go with my gut and show off my shooting skills.
Then I chose to stick my dick inside of the brigadier general’s precious daughter.
I also chose to listen to my brother, Matthew, when he brought me into the family business.
All those choices I made freely on my own accord.
This choice feels like I don’t really have a choice at all, and I don’t like it.
Back in the Marines, things were easy. I was given a target and a time then it was kill ‘em and move on.
Just like my sex life—fuck ‘em and go.
My phone is still filled with all those nasty little pleasures, but like the great fucking Sahara Desert my bedroom is fucking barren now.
Ever since that one kiss in Elim Park, my life hasn’t been the fucking same…
This is all Johnathan’s fault.
If he knew how many times I’ve been tempted to put a bullet in the back of his head from half a mile out…
I’m sure he wouldn’t sleep so fucking peacefully at night.
I’ve been outside all of the guy’s houses. Up in a tree or in a bush far enough away that they can’t see me, but I sure as fuck can see them with my scope.
From Matthew on down the line, I’ve lined them up with my sights like fucking deer.
They’re all to blame for this.
I’ve watched over Sophia’s house, too. Watched over her during the night hours. Every time some shit happens in the city, I try to be there if I’m not working.
A dark and dusty attic is no place to sleep though, and while I try to be home with Mitzy, she’s neglected as fuck.
Five to eight hours at home, four to six hours at least spent working, and then it’s time to spend the rest of the night watching over the object of my hatred and love.
She’s driving me fucking insane.
Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep.
I’m can’t tell the difference between night and days now.
Something’s gotta fucking give, my shaking hands are fucking proof of that.
If I wasn’t deathly afraid of fucking pills and shit like that, I’d ask Andrew or Simon to give me something to help me keep my shit together.
Maybe sleeping pills or some Xanax.
Fuck, maybe I should have been hitting up John’s bar to get some liquid relaxation. He sells all that shit that makes you blackout drunk. Though me not being a drinker might be an issue…
“Fuck!” I scream out loud again as I slam my hand on the steering wheel.
I need to let out some fucking aggression, and since I can’t fuck my way into slumber…
Damn it all, I know who I have to fucking call.
Pressing the speed dial button on the dashboard monitor, there’s a single ring before the call is connected.
“What is it?” Simon sneers into the phone.
“What’s the info on the cop who fucked all this shit up?” I ask him.
“Officer Morrison,” Simon says over the sound of fast typing in the background.
Morrison, he’s the fucker who didn’t pull back. He’s the fucker who stopped the Russian’s cars and fucking started the snowball effect.
Two men dead, one of those being Sophia’s father.
Either he couldn’t follow fucking orders and had to play the hero, or he was ordered to do it by someone else.
“I want to torture the fucker,” I snarl out to myself and Simon.
“I’m still looking into his personal records and banking statements,” Simon says. “We need to wait before grabbing him. I’ll have the information soon.”
“Good enough,” I say, then ask, “Look, I’m going to get Sophia from her dad’s house. Is her phone location still tracked to there?”
“I’ve strongly advised Matthew against allowing you to do this current action, James,” Simon says.
“Like I give a fuck!” I snap at him before slamming my thumb on disconnect.
Fucking straitlaced shitbird.
Easing off the interstate to head into the south side of Garden City, I feel like running through the red light at the end of the off-ramp. It won’t get me there any faster though. This is an affluent neighborhood, and where the police like to patrol and catch assholes blasting through red lights.
Turning right off the exit, I goose the pedal to get me up to five miles over the limit. Becoming a sleek shadow as I slip through the traffic.
I may be in a hurry, but this BMW gives me the same smooth control as my long-barreled rifle. It bends to my wishes and moves as if nothing is in its way.
Thank fuck I don’t see any cops once I start hitting the suburbs proper. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t like that I’m barely hitting the brakes for the stop signs.
Taking a deep breath, I hold it in and count to five before letting it slowly expel from my lungs.
Gotta get my calm going.
Gotta get my sanity in check.
I feel feverish right now. After all this inner turmoil I’ve been dealing with, I’m finally going to be in front of her again.
Even if I’m not ready for it.