Burn (Bayonet Scars #5)

Mindy.

Christ. Mindy is a pain in my ass. The best kind of pain in my ass. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I have no business owning a woman like Mindy. I have no business owning anyone, but especially not a woman like her. She’s good—too good—and she has no idea what being owned means. And I have no idea where her head is at. We haven’t really spoken since that bullshit at the clubhouse. First, she went and tried to get me to hurt Scavo and then she begged me to fuck a lost girl. The whole night was fucked and when I dropped her off back at Grady’s, she was acting fucked too. She seemed fine which is why I think she was acting strange. How could she not be fucked over that?

I empty another clip into the same tree before moving to another tree and changing my target. Too many more bullet holes and the redwood might not be able to take it. I don’t like destroying things. People, sure. But not this tree. Unlike people, trees just exist and grow without intent to harm anyone.

Unlike Carlo Mancuso.

My hands make quick work of discarding the empty clip and sliding a new one into place. Taking a deep breath, I spin around and face the woods behind the house I’ll always call home. In a matter of seconds, I fire off round after round into the trunk of the redwood until this clip is also empty. Again, I pivot and grab another full clip from the bench behind me, load it into the hand gun, and spin back toward the woods, ready to fire.

I hate him.

I hate him.

Ma always says the choices we make are a reflection of either what we fear or what we love. Giving up her twins in their infancy, in her words, was a reflection of her love for me. But she’s full of shit. Giving them up was a reflection of a mother’s ultimate fear. She couldn’t stomach allowing one of us to die so she could keep the others—not that Carlo would have allowed her to live. In light of her fear, I choose love. Which is why I’m going to carve Carlo Mancuso’s heart right out of his chest and hand deliver it to her. This war isn’t about justice or revenge. It’s about love—loving someone enough to kill for them.

My index finger slowly presses against the trigger just as a bright red figure comes into view at the tree line, hands raised in the air. “Please don’t shoot!”

Alex.

Fuck.

What the hell was she doing in the woods? I’m not in the mood for this shit. Not that I ever am in the mood for this, but especially not now. Images of Carlo, her father, flash in my head. Sometimes it’s easier to forget the man who raised my sister, and sometimes it’s harder. Like now. She crosses the field quickly and comes to stand beside me. She’s wearing a red leather jacket that’s bright enough to make her a walking fucking target.

“That jacket bright enough?” I shouldn’t be a dick to her. I’m trying not to be a dick to her.

“You think we need to worry about aerial snipers?” She smooths her long dark-brown hair down and pulls it up into a messy bun atop her head, using the hair tie on her wrist to secure it.

“Guess not.” I click the safety in place and then shove my gun into the waistband of my jeans. “Something you need?”

Alex raises her eyebrows, her eyes bob around me, and she nods her head. Shit. Trying to not act like a dick has me doing exactly that. We’re going to have to talk sometime, but does it really have to be now?

Alex turns around and heads for the tree line toward Ma and Pop’s house, but she stops a few feet away and blows out a heavy breath.

“Why does this have to be so awkward between us?” She turns around and shifts from foot to foot. “It’s almost been a year.”

“Because I fantasize about killing your father.” There. Honesty.

“I don’t blame you,” she says. Her cheeks redden and she looks away for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again. She lifts her chin and clears her throat. “I was raised to be seen and not heard. My father never asked me what I wanted for myself. He just made my choices for me, and I hated it. I can’t hate him even though I want to. So even though I love my father, because he’s still my father, I don’t blame you for wanting to kill him. I don’t know if I could blame you even if you do end up killing him.”