Chapter 20
Hunter
I DRAINED WHAT WAS LEFT of the bottle of whiskey, threw it in the corner of the room, and lit a cigarette.
“You know, every time you break something in here, I think you’re actually improving the place,” Deacon said. “They say cleanliness is next to godliness, Hunter. But maybe you killed the motherfucker that coined that phrase.”
“I’m a filthy fucking man, Deacon. Don’t you forget it. Where are my fucking car keys?”
“You’re fucking wasted is what you are,” Deacon laughed. “But fuck it. So am I. Your keys are probably in your pocket, asshole.”
I reached in and fumbled around. My keys weren’t in my pocket. My keys weren’t anywhere on me. Why was it that you never noticed this shit until you were swimming in liquor? I looked around the room and tried to focus on the empty spaces for any sign of the little pieces of metal that would start my car and get me back on the road. No sign of them.
Fuck. You’re slipping here, Hunter. First the diner, then getting caught up with that chick. Get your shit together, man.
I kept looking around the apartment, kicking random objects out of my way, hoping the keys would jump out at me.
Then it hit me.
My keys must have fallen out at Kelly’s place. When I tore my clothes off and fucked her sweet brains out, my keys must have fallen to the floor.
Fuck.
I was in such a goddamn rush to get the hell out of there I didn’t even notice, but that was the last place I had them. How could I be so fucking stupid? I split so fast and walked back to my place not even thinking about my car.
Damn it, Hunter. Losing your mind over a piece of *.
I couldn’t go back there right now. I’d either have to wait until later when she was asleep, or go tomorrow when she was at work. That girl kept fucking with my plans. Every time I tried to get gone, those green eyes and perfect body kept pulling me back. I started to think about creeping into her house after she went to bed and grabbing my keys, but my mind wandered to her. I thought about slipping into her room while she slept. I could see her lying there, beautiful, tits moving up and down with every breath she took in through her pouty lips. I thought about waking her up by sliding my tongue into her tight *, listening to her gentle moan, and then taking her again right there. I could feel my cock getting hard and I wanted to run back to her house right then.
Deacon’s voice slapped me back into reality.
“Hey! Where the fuck are those keys? We riding or what?”
Soon, pal. Not soon enough, but soon.
I tried to shake Kelly out of my mind and get back to the task at hand.
“Listen, man. I don’t know where those motherfuckers are and I don’t feel like banging on doors to find them tonight. Wherever they are, they’ll still be there tomorrow. Some old broad probably found them and took them to her church lost and found or some shit. Who knows? Let’s just take care of business tonight and then I’ll fucking split tomorrow. This place I’m thinking of setting up in, it warrants some checking out before I set up shop anyhow.”
“Oh yeah?” Deacon asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. “There’s a chance we might have to take this place from someone? Where you heading, pal, and who are we going to find there?”
“You remember Gino? That old Italian fucker who tried to slide into the neighborhood a few years back?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course I do. Greasy fucker. No class. Liked his girls young. Too young. He tried to move in on your old man’s territory and then suddenly he was gone. Just up and left. What the fuck does he have to do with this?”
“The place I’m heading used to be his and it should be sitting fucking empty. He used to bring his little ladies down there for a pervert’s getaway from the wife. A very select few scumbags knew about it and since he up and left, word is he doesn’t use it all that often anymore.”
Deacon just smiled.
“And how do you figure that?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Because he up and left to the bottom of the fucking Charles River after I showed him what I thought of pedophile pieces of garbage.”
Deacon coughed and spit into the corner of the room, shaking his head in approval.
“The white knight of Boston. You’re a fucking psychopath, Hunter.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about white knight. I took pleasure in gutting that motherfucker. I think you’re closer with psychopath.”
Deacon walked toward the door.
“You’re no psychopath, pal. Any man worth his salt would have gutted that pedophile if he had the stones.”
He paused and put his flask back in his jacket pocket.