BUFF (33 page)

“ON YOUR KNEES.”

Kulich raises the gun and brings it against Spencer's forehead. Spencer obeys. The woods are dark and dense like something out of a gothic fairytale. The trees look evil, lurking over them. Kulich leans over, shoving the gun against Spencer's head, twisting the metal hole in so it makes an indent of a circle in his skin.

“I got a little secret for you. You think your family's safe? You think I'm gonna honor that deal I made with Colt?” Kulich snorts. “Don't bet on it. Men who aren't honorable aren't treated with honor. You betray me—don't think I won't do the same to you."

“No please,” Spencer begs. “Please. Please don't kill them. Whatever I did, they don't need to be punished for it. Please, Mr. Kulich, I’m begging you."

“Too late, Spencer. You shouldn't have crossed me. Now you all have to pay for your fucking sins."

“I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!”

“If you're a praying man, Mr. Appleton, you'd better start. Because you're about five seconds away from meeting your maker."

“Please. Please…"

"Maybe God will be more merciful in Heaven. I, on the other hand, need to see you suffer. Now."

“Drop it."

Kulich whirls around.

“Whoa, whoa, Colt.” Kulich brings his hands up, goes to move closer to him but Colt aims his gun higher. Kulich backs away. “What the fuck are you doing?"

“Drop the gun.” There is no trace of feeling in his order. He is mechanical in his delivery.

The gun slips from Kulich's finger, falling between the two men. Colt retrieves it, never taking his eyes or his gun off his former boss.

"You gave me your goddamn word!"

“I lied,” comes Colt's automatic response.

Eye's bugging out, Kulich shoots out, ” You owe me this you son-of-a-bitch!"

“He doesn't deserve this!” Colt shouts over him, his tone deceptively unmarked by the growing confliction inside him. “Neither does his family."

“Fuck them! He took from
me
!” Kulich points to Spencer who remains still with fear.

Placing Kulich's gun in the back of his jeans, Colt's stare never wavers. “He did what he had to. To save his family."

“So that's it?” Kulich rages. “You're just gonna let this lying motherfucker go? That's not how I taught you to deal with things."

“Maybe I learned a few things on my own.”

“What happened to you, Colt?” Kulich's voice dips.

Colt shrugs off the surprise hit of nostalgia. “People change."

“You don't. You never wanted to."

“Maybe I want to now,” Colt points out. “Maybe I've seen what a life outside this one can be like."

Kulich eyes the gun, shifts nervously in place. Colt never thought he would see the day. The day when Vladimir Kulich would be scared shitless.

“You can't be serious."

“All I know is you're not gonna make Becky fatherless,” Colt warns.

“So where’s that leave me?” Kulich asks, his eyes trained on the gun as if it will go off at any second. "You're not… Colt, come on."

“I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this… I didn't..."

“That's it. That's it?!” Kulich yells. “You're just gonna fucking kill me?"

“I heard what you said about Becky and the rest of her family,” Colt says, his voice becoming as dark as the night that encompasses them. "This fucking world needs people like Becky and less scum like us! Don’t you see? I can't let you live knowing you’ll come after her."

Colt watches Kulich rummage for an excuse. “C’mon, man, I only said that to scare him. I didn't mean it."

“You're lying."

“Colt.” Kulich's hands come up as if that lone gesture will explain away his behavior.

Fishing the keys from his pocket, Colt throws them at Spencer. They drop near his knee and Spencer picks them up, looking confused.

”Go to the car. Wait for me there." Colt jerks his head in the direction of the vehicle that’s somewhere behind them, passed all the trees. Spencer doesn’t hesitate to move.

The echo of his hurried steps linger musically around them. Kulich wants to move, Colt can sense that. His whole face is an open book, a plethora of emotion: fear, anger, disbelief, pain, regret, loss, and hurt. Colt sees it all, unwilling, uncaring, but forces to partake in the moment with him.

Kulich is after all the only father he's ever truly had. And what Colt has to do next… he knows it will haunt him till his last dying breath.

“You're gonna kill me?”

“You're not leaving me a choice,” Colt murmurs. He makes himself breathe, a dizzying sensation trapping itself in his body. “I'm... sorry."

Kulich's shoulders straighten. “Fuck you.”

“I'm sorry,” Colt hears himself say again as he cocks the gear back.

“You're gonna fucking pay for this,” Kulich threatens. “Maybe not by me but you’re gonna drag that fucking bitch into this life and one way or the other, you’re gonna get her fucking killed just like your mother!” Kulich comes a step closer, the leaves crunching beneath his shoes. “You’re all gonna fucking pay."

The second Colt feels the slightest bit of doubt, he knows he can’t wait.

The single shot hits Kulich right between the eyes. He goes down instantaneously. Flying back in the air from the force of the bullet he lands in a thud on his back, sprawled out like the perfect white outline of a dead body in a crime scene.

Colt wipes his brow, the nausea in his stomach cramping him, sending him hunched forward on his knees. But he refuses to let this situation get the better of him. He isn’t going to fall, turn weak-kneed. He did what he had to do.

For Becky.

His face, inches from Kulich's, stares back at the man. The man he had called his friend, his confidante, his savior... is dead.

His face, in death, is peaceful. Maybe wherever Kulich is now he is free from the demons that made him who he was. For some reason, Colt needs to believe that to walk away.

He notices a small grin on Kulich's mouth and suddenly he remembers his last words.

Pay.

Colt shakes his head. He knows he’s going to pay.

He already is.

HE DOESN’T LIKE HOW HE FEELS.
All garbled, like his brain has been sucked out of his ear with a straw.

He guesses killing the man he idolized since he was seventeen, the man who saved him from his abusive smack-head father, the man who avenged his mother, could be the cause. But if he’s halfway truthful with himself, it has a lot more to do with what comes next.

Colt turns the wheel and enters the abandoned airstrip. Spencer Appleton hasn’t said a single word. Good. Right now he needs a little bit of peace.

A small black Lincoln is parked behind the side of the building with the headlights off. The doors swing open and Jenson steps out first. Becky appears from the passenger seat. She closes the door, places one hand on the roof of the car and a stalemate emotion scatters across her face. The mother is holding the baby, his little feet are latch around the side of her torso. He’s playing with the front button of her shirt. They walk forward but then begin to jog.

Becky stays back. Even when her father opens the door and the rest of the family meet up to welcome one another. Colt watches Becky, his eyes darting to the rest of them to see the reunion. It takes a few minutes before any of them realize Becky is not with them. Spencer parts the small huddle of people, stepping reluctantly her way. Becky smiles a teary smile, her eyes soaking him in as though wanting to believe he’s real, but too scared to give in to her wish. But when her father's arms spread out from his side, the gesture must have been too much because Becky hurries forward, closing the distance. Colt sees the tears stream down her face as she kisses his cheek and her father cups her face.

She’s finally home. Where she belongs.

His reluctance plays over him making it hard for Colt to concentrate. Leaning against the side of the truck away from the private family moment, Colt stays planted in the shadows. He can’t watch their intimate reunion anymore. The sentiment, the pure emotions, gnaw at his gut.

He isn’t a part of Becky and her family and even though he hasn’t interrupted in any way, just standing there observing them feels wrong somehow, like he is... an intruder.

So he backs off into the shadows away from the spotlight and lets them have their moment. They deserve the solace of their rejoining and Colt won't let his presence be a burden over them; a dark cloud that dampens what’s supposed to be a bright occasion. He tends to bring the worst out of people and he doesn’t want that for Becky. He never wants that for her.

Driving his hand through his hair Colt sighs taking in the weight of his shoulders; never letting him forget that he still has his dangerous life to live once the goodbyes are said. People will be looking to him now wondering who's in charge, now that the great Vladimir Kulich is dead.

What the fuck am I doing?

He squeezes the ends of his brows with the tips of his fingers massaging the aching flesh. He knows exactly what he's doing. But he's petrified of what he has to do next...

He’s never going to look down into those big beautiful eyes that suck him in like the force of gravity. He’s never going to hear her laugh, never going to see her blush. He’s never going to make love to her, be inside her body and discover all the things he’s missed in his need to just be in her.

Jesus Christ, he’s a fucking idiot.

He should have never touched her. He should have never laid one hand on her delicate body. What was he thinking? When the hell did he think this was going to be easy?

“Colt."

The supple calling of his name utters from her mouth, sends his emotions into overdrive, momentarily blanketing all other thoughts. His body whips around, caught-off-guard. He stares at her as she moves forward and the small steps she takes propel him into motion. He forgets about what he’s supposed to say, what he’s supposed to do, drinking in the sight of her. All of her. He takes her in, inch by inch, hurried only by the compelling need to feel her in his arms.

One. Last. Time.

She stops a foot in front of him, seeming to do the same thing he’s doing. Her stare wanders over him, her eyes cast in shadows, coinciding with a happiness that makes the green in her eyes blur and sparkle like sapphires under light.

She always glows from the inside out…

Intimately, predatorily, his steely blue eyes travel over her. Is she hurt? Will she lie to him? But when she gifts him with a slight smile he removes the distance between them. Neither touches one another, though.

“Hey.” She swallows, he watches her cute little muscles in her neck and his heart thumps harder for a beat. “Are you… okay?" Her eyes darken as he leans forward. “Colt?” Her finger trails the lines of his jaw. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have never thought…” She lets go of him, completely, starts to back away, but he clasps her wrist gently with his hold and leaves her locked to him. “I can't believe… Colt, I thought that of you..."

“It's okay.”

She shakes her head, angling it down slightly, but her eyes gaze into his. “No... No it’s not.” Her voice is thick with remorse.

"Stop, Becky.” He cups her cheek, knowing he shouldn't, but he has to. She needs him. And he can't fight the instinct to give himself to her in any way she needs. His thumb finds the corner of her lips, smooths down the indent that shapes the sexiness of her mouth. “Stop.”

She pushes his hand away. “My father told me what happened.” She scans him for a reaction but he can’t let her in any more than he already has. “Mr. Kulich is… dead. He said you killed him."

His eyes frost over, the blue morph into tiny icicles. Colt clears the residue from his throat. “Did he hurt you at all? Touch you?"

“Colt,” she protests, her brow curving.

His one-track mind dismisses her attempt at skirting the issue. “Becky. Answer me."

“I already told you no,” she says, twisting her wrist to break contact, only to link her fingers with his. “I'm okay."

“I wasn't sure if you were lying or not,” he replies, mad at himself that he hasn’t been able to tell on his own whether she’s okay or not. He doesn’t like knowing he can’t read her. It makes him feel powerless. “Vladimir—I knew he was forcing you to say what he wanted you to."

“I was okay, just scared.” She's disregarding him too lightly for his liking. “I thought you could tell when I was lying."

He looks sideways from her, his sharp profile hammering a message that he’s mad, but it's aimed only at him. “Your head was down... I couldn't tell,” he murmurs, barely audible. “It bothered me that you wouldn't look at me."

“I couldn't.” She gazes at him, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward her. “I felt like if I did, you'd be able to see how terrified I was and then you'd do something crazy. I didn't want you to get hurt... because of me..."

His throaty chuckle resonates with an ache. "Always thinking about everyone else's feelings before yours."

“Goodness sake, Colt, I didn't want anything to happen to you because of me."

His glare comes down hard on her, blacking out the light in his eyes all together. "This was my fault, my problem."

“Don’t, Colt, you already said you were sorry a hundred times,” she says, her voice rising in a quake. “Don't say it again."

“You think you know me?" he says, the drop of his voice, silky and heady, unravels the stir of anger.

“Maybe,” she responds on a sigh. It has the power to stroke away the stiffness in his body. He tugs her closer and she follows willingly, both in servitude to the emotions wrapping them in place and drowning out everything else.

His hands memorize the porcelain flesh of her cheeks, the tips moving deftly slow in their exploration. He ends up with his hands cupping behind her ears, his two fingers nipping gently at the dangling curve of her earlobe. He senses her breathing heightening.

“I promise I won’t hide from you again." Her sultry mumble freezes him in place. And then he remembers everything. He remembers why he’s still here. And what he must do.

At all costs.

He lets go of her face, but doesn’t back away and peeks up over her head to nothing in the distance.

"Doesn’t matter."

“I know you didn't plan this... Killing Mr. Kulich, I mean,” she goes on, unaware of why he’s withdrawn from her. “Your mother… This must be hard for you.”

You’ve got no idea…

“Don’t. Not now… I'm fine.” He scratches the side of his nose. She tilts his chin down in her direction, giving him a direct but empathetic look.

“No. You're not."

She can see right through him; the only woman who’s able to do that with him.

He releases her, glaring in her general direction, not really looking at her. He can feel himself giving in to her. But he must stay cold. It's the only way he can do this.

“Don't tell me how I feel, Becky,” he says, in a clipped tone, but it does little too deter her efforts.

“Stop pushing me away then.”

“It doesn't matter."

“Do you ever grow sick of hearing yourself say that? Because I'm sick of it. Of course it matters, Colt.” She sighs, her breath shaky. "
Your
feelings matter. They matter to
me
. I don't like seeing you like this. You try to pretend you're all right but I know you're not. Please...” She reaches for his hand. He backs away. "You can trust me."

He swallows the stabs knifing at his vocal chords. “It's got nothing to do with trust."

“Then what?"

“Becky...” His voice dwindles, winding down like a dying man on the verge of his last breath. “You know why."

She searches his face for answers but he refuses to give. She shakes her head. “I thought I did but I don’t. Not anymore. Not after everything you’ve done for me."

He turns into a machine in front of her, a sheen of steel eclipsing his dark stare, shading his true emotions from view. “What happened between us is over now."

“
Over
...” she repeats the word like it's foreign to her ears.

“Yeah.” He watches her reaction under the glare of his deepened brow. Her emotions switch from disbelief to anger than back to disbelief, a gray reflecting off her pale skin, but she never looks away from him.

“So it's over…? Just like that?" Her mouth shifts and her emerald eyes begin to ripple. “Wow—how do you do that?"

He shrugs, not understanding. “What?”

“Snap your fingers,” she replies, her fury making a leap into outrage. "Make yourself believe what you're saying."

“Stop it,” he says, keeping his cool demeanor in place.

"No. I think you should ‘
stop it’
.” She steps closer. He should step back. But he doesn’t. “It's not over,” she murmurs, under his gaze. "I won’t let you do this."

“I told you—" His voice is the only thing that cracks as she moves a foot closer. “—I told you this from the beginning, Becky."

“I know… but… after everything… I guess my heart made other plans… I thought you would too…"

“I'm sorry.” He hopes the ghostly void in his eyes will tell her to not push any further. But she doesn’t let it trample her course of action.

"I don't believe you."

“I... am.” There are small tremors in his speech.

“No. I don't believe you when you say it's over.” She forges ahead, latching on to the tiny ripple of emotion he’s been unable to shield from her probing eyes. “I know why you don’t wanna fight for this—for us. I see it in your eyes, Colt. You don’t think you deserve happiness—”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” She shakes her head, knowing she’s losing the battle. “This can’t be it."

“It has to,” he says, his voice determined to push her away. “This is the way it has to be. It's better. For both of us."

“Colt…” She raises her hand, presses the warmth inside of her palm into the side of his cold face. He should back away, leave, but it's too hard. Too hard to fucking leave her. "I know you don't believe that. You're lying. I can see it."

“Don’t.” His eyes close. He's doing the right thing. They can never be. She deserves so much more than a cold-hearted killer like him.

The spawn of the Devil.

“You're lying,” she breathes out, in a hushed voice that wraps around his resolve.

“No.” He shakes her off, clears his throat and backs away, her words tempting him more than she will ever know and he will never admit. They blur him from thinking straight. “No I'm not."

“Who's the coward now, huh?”

The harder the fight he puts up the more she seems to challenge him. The wall he’s erected around his heart is so well built, years of hurt and pain have made it indestructible.

Until now.

“You told me to stop hiding, take a few risks and I finally do and now you're the one hiding," she says.

“I'm not hiding. I'm facing the truth,” he bites out. His blue eyes glow down at her like the Moon on a starless night. “You're the one hiding if you think we've any sort of future, Becky. This, right here, this moment is our future. That's it."

"You won’t fight for us?"

“Yeah."