Page 18

CHAPTER 18

Toxic

R olling over the next morning, I sighed as I stared at the ceiling. Billie was sleeping in the next room over. It’d be so easy to sneak in there and wake her up with my face buried between her legs.

My cock was already hard just from waking up, but now it flexed at the idea of getting my hands on the tempting woman who’d been doing her best to avoid my kisses. She liked them as much as I did. But I still hadn’t made it any farther with her. Granted, her grandfather was sleeping under this same roof, too. It wasn’t exactly respectful to seduce a man's granddaughter in his own home. And my pops had taught me respect. But then again, Billie made all my good intentions fly right out the fucking window.

Groaning, I reached down beneath the covers and shoved my hand past the waistband of my boxer briefs. My dick was leaking pre-cum just thinking about her.

My stint in the military had taught me patience, but fuck if she was shredding my self-control. Closing my eyes, I gripped my cock hard and slid my hand up and down the length. The friction made my balls draw up and I arched my head back as a rumble of pleasure escaped. Fuck that felt good. And yet, I knew it wasn’t going to feel half as good as burying myself in Billie’s wet pussy.

Flexing my hips, I fucked my hand as I thought about the kiss we’d shared last night. She was a stubborn one and was making me work to win her over. Somehow, that made me want her even more. Which I wasn’t sure was possible in the first place.

My muscles strained as I imagined getting her beneath me and fucking her until she was screaming. I just wished I wasn't stuck with my damn hand this morning. Still, it did the job and I grunted in release as I shot my cum all over my abs. Huffing out a breath, I slowly stroked myself, eyes still closed as I pictured her on her knees, looking up at me with a sultry smile. My dick jerked in my hand, but I was done for now.

One thing about being over forty, one round was enough. For now, anyway. It was bad enough I was jerking off once to twice a day just to keep myself in control. If I’d met Billie in my twenties, my dick would be rubbed raw and I would have already lost my shit. I’d had a decent temper back in the day, but over the years had figured out how to control it. The only thing that brought it to the surface these days was when my family was in danger.

Tugging off my boxers, I mopped up my abs, then padded across the room to take a shower. It was early, but there were animals to feed. The manual labor would go a long way toward easing the burning need in my chest. Hopefully.

I headed out to the barn to start with the horses. I had to get my mind off of Billie. Butcher would be along shortly anyway so it was best to get outside. No sooner did I enter the barn that I found the perfect distraction.

Two men were already in here. I was hit by the strong stench of gasoline. They each held a big red jug, gas cans, and they were pouring it over the hay bales. Hay fires were always devastating. They were packed so tightly that once the fire started, you couldn’t dump enough water on them to get them out. It would take out the whole barn and leave nothing recoverable.

I should have been enraged, seeing that these goons were back on my woman’s property. That they were here to intimidate her, scare her, to destroy the ranch she loved so much. And I was furious. But I also had a sense of relief and joy. I had something to take my frustrations out on.

This must be how Butcher feels all the time.

They hadn’t seen me yet, I observed all of this in just a few seconds. My gun was tucked securely in my belt, but I didn’t want to risk the muzzle flash igniting any fumes. Low odds of that happening on any given day, but the risk wasn’t worth it. Not when Billie’s barn and animals were in danger. I glanced around and saw what I needed.

A pair of hay hooks. Curved hooks about ten inches long on a round wooden handle. They were made to sink into the sides of a hay bale to make it easier to pick up. I took one in either hand and stepped forward. The goons dropped the gas cans and turned to face me. They didn’t seem too concerned to see me. Their mistake.

“Don’t move,” one of the goons said, raising his hand. He flicked a lighter.

The fucker still wasn’t ready for my movement. If he thought I was going to stand here like an asshole while he dropped that lighter, he was dead wrong. Emphasis on dead. I swung out in a sideways arc with my left hand, landing the hook in the man with the lighter’s neck. It wasn’t the kind that would stay lit once his thumb was off the tab, thankfully, so it fell harmlessly onto the ground.

With my right hand I swung the other hook like an uppercut and caught the other man in the thigh. The momentum of the swing took his leg up off the ground in a howl of agony as he fell on his back, grasping at his thigh.

Focusing back on the other man, I met his eyes right before I jerked my left hand back. My motion pulled the hook back toward me and took the first man’s throat out with it. Blood gushed as he fell to the ground near his buddy. He landed on top of his lighter.

That left the asshole with the leg injury. He was clutching at his leg and screaming. I wound my foot back and kicked his face like I was punting a football. The rising need inside me required that I spill their blood. That I make it so they could never be a threat to Billie ever again.

There was clapping behind me. Turning, I tightened my grip on the hay hooks, expecting to see another piece of shit that I would get to kill. Instead, I saw Butcher leaning against the wall.

“I’m so proud of you. Most guys would have reached for the axe over there. You went for the hooks. Personal touch.” He pretended to wipe a proud tear from his eye.

My grin was more a baring of teeth. “Just wait, we’re not done. Help me patch his leg before he bleeds out, then I’ve got a special treat for you.”

We cut a few strands of bailing twine off the now soaked hay bales and used it to tie a tourniquet around his leg. We dragged him and the corpse into a pen. Then, waited for him to wake up.

“Fuck this, I’m tired of waiting.” Butcher said after a whole two minutes. I hadn’t even finished breathing hard. He grabbed the water pail from inside a stall and dumped it on the man while simultaneously stepping on his leg wound. The fucker woke up with a scream. “Fucking finally. That’s better.”

The man looked around and, seeing he was soaked, started to panic.

“Relax pal, we wouldn’t soak you in gasoline,” I said. He relaxed and leaned back, relieved at the prospect of not being burned to death. “That would ruin the flavor and poison their stomachs.”

“What?”

I nodded over to the corpse. His eyes went wide with renewed panic. The pigs were absolutely going to town on his companion. “For such a gentle foraging pig, when you give them a corpse, they just absolutely gorge themselves. Fresh meat is a real treat for them.”

Panic was written all over the man’s face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay! We can work this out.” He struggled against his bonds, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to get out of that pen unless we let him out.

“Obviously.” I said, stepping forward with a pitchfork. “But that would ruin my fun.”

Butcher gave me a smile of disbelief. “This is why the others never believe me when I tell them you’re just as fucked in the head as me. You only ever do this shit around me.” I shrugged, ignoring his complaint. He reached his hand out to me. “I always wanted to use one of those.” He took the pitchfork.

“Really?” I asked “I figured you’d have an aversion to them.”

“Long handle, sharp spikes, why would I not want one?”

“Just figured that since villagers always showed up with them and torches you’d keep your distance.” I was joking around, but my gaze was on the asshole inside the pig pen. I didn’t want him getting the idea that he wasn’t going to die here in a few seconds.

“Fuck off,” Butcher said, then jabbed the man in the side. The forks sunk in a few inches. He pulled it out. “Nice!” He tossed the pitchfork from hand to hand as though checking the balance of it as a weapon. “This really isn’t bad.”

“Please!” The man begged, his bound hands clutching at his wound as much as possible.

“Yeah, let’s jump straight to the end shall we? You’re not paid enough to put up a real fight,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest as I glared at him.

“They didn’t pay me,” he babbled. “I swear they didn’t.”

“So what?” I asked. “You did this just for the fun of it?”

“No, no, no!” he chanted, but I could see the fear in his eyes. He was lying. They’d either paid him, or he just tagged along so he could set fire to shit. Either way, he was fine with destroying the livelihood of a woman and watching innocent animals die in a horrific way. That meant I had no sympathy for him.

“Who is they?” Butcher demanded.

“I don’t know their names,” the guy wailed.

Sneering down at him in disgust, I asked, “Then what good are you?”

He looked between me and Butcher, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with some way to save his worthless life. “I have an address!” he said, his voice going up in pitch. “I can help. I have an address!” He was bleeding out onto the ground, but was doing his damndest to get out of this predicament.

Thanks to Rip, we already had a lot of information on Brently, but anything new would just help save time and effort on Rip’s part. So, we’d take the information he was offering up.

Despite this guy being willing to spill what he knew, it wasn’t going to work. Even if I wanted to let him go—which I didn’t—Butcher had gotten a taste of blood. He wouldn’t be able to stop until this guy was dead. The crunching and slurping of the pigs eating this guy’s friend would probably be disturbing when I remembered it later, but for now, I was in a haze of feral rage. Nothing was too horrific for these men. Not after what they were trying to do. Because I knew it wouldn’t stop there.

Billie would have seen the smoke and run out to the barn, desperate to save her animals. And there were only two possibilities of what they would do to her from there. Neither was acceptable and both options made me want to revive the dead guy so that I could murder him all over again.

The guy babbled out the address without us having to ask. I pulled out my phone and typed it down. As soon as I was done, I nodded at Butcher. As much as I wanted to kill this fucker myself, I knew how to share and Butcher would be a nightmare to deal with after this if I didn’t let him get some killing in.

Butcher stabbed the man again, this time in the gut. He pulled on the handle but he seemed to have gotten the forks stuck, probably under the lower ribs. The man was howling.

“What? Why? I told you everything!”

I looked at him, meeting his gaze. I knew he was seeing an emptiness in my eyes. Realization dawned in his own eyes. He now knew he was never making it out of here alive. “You were going to burn my woman’s barn down and terrorize her. What the fuck made you think you were going to live?” I picked up a torn piece of fabric from his companion’s pants and shoved it into his mouth, far enough that he nearly gagged. Billie was inside the house. I didn’t want her hearing this. She didn’t need to see the lengths I was willing to go to keep her safe. Not yet. Last thing I needed was to scare her away. A woman needed to be eased into this level of love.

“Gimme a hand with this would you?” Butcher asked, tugging at the pitchfork.

“Seriously?” I grabbed the handle and gave it a tug. “Oh what the fuck? How did you get it this stuck?” I planted my boot on the man’s chest to get the leverage I’d need as I yanked backward.

“Try wiggling it up and down.” We were both pulling, and moving the handle up and down and now left and right. The man’s screams were just a pitiful muffled squeak.

“There!” I said as it came out with a squelch.

I was surprised, he should have passed out from the pain, but somehow was still conscious. Which was good, I wanted him awake for the next part.

“Oh look, the pigs are almost done with your friend. And they’re not alone,” I taunted. The chickens were starting to wander into the pen now. I looked at Butcher. “Most people don’t realize this, but chickens are every bit as nasty as pigs. They eat meat too, and they don’t care if that meat’s alive so long as it doesn’t put up much of a fight.”

One of the pigs wandered over to the man and started licking at the blood on his stomach. “He likes the way you taste,” Butcher chuckled at the man. “There’s gotta be a joke in there somewhere right? Like, do we taste like bacon to pigs? No wait, I got it, tastes like chicken!”

I chuckled, not because he was funny, but because he made an honest attempt at humor, almost like a real boy. Either blood loss or the pigs were going to finish this creep off. If he was lucky he’d pass out before the pigs started eating him. I didn’t give a shit either way. “Let’s go move the gas soaked bales. Get them out of here before something sparks. With any luck only the top bales will be soaked. The bottom bales might be clean and usable.”

I planned to tell Billie about this…eventually. But if I needed to put in a new order of hay, then I was going to have to admit what happened a lot faster than I was expecting. “If it comes down to it, I might need to say you spilled gas in the barn—don’t look at me that way, just take the blame on this if I need you to.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I haven’t ever seen a pig eat a man that was still alive. Or chickens. Makes it worth it.”

“Deal. But come give me a hand once you’re done,” I told him. “Don’t fuck around and leave me to do all the work, Butcher.”

He waved a hand my way, giving what was happening in the pig pen his rapt attention.