Daunting Turns: Book 2 of Colson Brothers Series (5 page)

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I dreamt I was running down the road naked as he rode up on and tossed me over his lap. I was running from him. My dream was something out of a bad action flick.

I could hear myself screaming, but couldn’t find the source. Where am I??

“Peach, hush baby. You’re having a nightmare.” Turner’s voice brought me abruptly back to reality.

I blinked and punched him as hard as I could right in the side of the face by his eye.

He smiled wickedly without so much as a flinch. “Do it again.”

I screamed at him. “Argh!!! You are unbearable!!!”

He helped me sit up and handed me a bottled water. “So I’ve been told. You okay?”

“No!! I’m not okay!!” I drank the water feeling suddenly dry. Must be the altitude.

“What was your nightmare?” He asked calmly.

“You.” I told him and looked around for my clothes. “What did you do with my shit now?”

“You’ll stay here for a couple hours while I go hunting. You’ll be less likely to run off if you’re naked.”

“Fuck that. I’m not sitting around here naked while you go shoot some fucking deer. I can probably outshoot your big ass anyway.” I complained remembering my awards. Dad and I like to shoot to blow off steam. He talked me into entering marksmanship contests all through high school and college.

“Watch it.” He’s warning me about my tone and words no doubt.

“Whatever.” I grabbed the blanket and laid back down to curl up. “I don’t want to look at your ugly mug for the next two hours anyway, just go. The sooner the better.”

“You really think you can shoot better than me?” He’s intrigued.

“I know I can. Go away.” I encouraged trying to keep the attitude out of my tone. I’d rather he leave me without a fresh spanking.

I heard some shuffling and felt something like clothes land on my side. “Get up and get dressed. Just remember, if I don’t show up at the club in three months, Slider will kill you for killing me.”

“Good.” I complained thinking that would be okay. How can this man bring me so far down? I was on top of the world weeks ago. Then my career all but tanks because of some lying jerk.

I was even considering asking a hot colleague out, but noooo, I’m stuck here with Mr. Personality instead.

“GET UP!!” He yelled and I swear my body reacted involuntarily in it’s straight up jump into a standing position.

“Geezus.” I stumbled losing my balance. “What the fuck was that?”

“Me, not pissed off, but getting there. Let’s go. My patience is a lot thinner than you are. I’m sick of skinny bitches. You need to eat, put some fat and muscle on those bones. Let’s go.” He loaded a rifle and two handguns.

I waved the weapon off. “No thanks.”

“How do you expect to kill a deer?”

“Not with that. Give me your knife, the twelve inch K-bar I saw on your bike.”

“You’re going to kill a deer with my knife?” He looks almost adorably confused, but I’m still too mad to care.

“No. Come on hot shot.” I looked around trying to gauge the direction I wanted to go. It’s a little tough since I don’t know the lay of the land. After a minute I decided to head up the mountain. The deer have already been down to feed, they’ll be heading back up by now.

“Do you always wait so late to hunt?”

“No.” He said simply at my side.

I trudged on then stopped and put my hand out. “Wait. Stay here, you make too much noise, and you don’t smell all stinky like me.”

“You don’t stink.” He looks confused again and I almost want to kiss him, but I know it will hurt.

“Just be quiet, and lay low.” I told him in a whisper with my hand out.

“If you’re trying to escape, don’t. You won’t get

“Turner! Shut up!” I yelled at him in a whisper hearing the footsteps just around the bend.

I decided to ignore him and focus on my kill. My father loves to hunt. He would take me on these crazy expeditions for incredibly bored rich people where we’d hunt with all kinds of crazy weapons, everything from small knives to elaborate bows.

I admit I’m showing off a little, but he deserves it. I hope I can still pull this off, it’s been a while. I feel the wild rush of predator versus prey and my adrenaline spikes. I miss this.

My inner lawyer sat back as the predator in me crouched down. There’s two bucks, probably father and son by the size. Then there’s the mother and three younger does not far past that.

I hate this part right here. Choosing. Fortunately there’s a lot of deer in the world, and those antlers are going to come in handy over the next three months.

I unsheathed the knife very slowly and got it ready in my hand. My aim is better with a knife than a gun at this range. Good. I know I told Turner I wasn’t going to kill the deer with the knife, but he’s a pain in my ass, literally, and deserves to be fucked with.

My anger towards him spiraled up and launched that knife with a force I didn’t know I possessed. The accuracy resulting from that anger drove the knife clean into the deer’s eye and into his skull. He dropped hard and fast scattering the others.

I ran over to pull the knife out and gut the deer before the poison funks the meat. The faster the better. Plus the warm blood always smells so good to me. Don’t ask me why, but I love raw fish, rare meat, and the smell of fresh blood. There’s something magnetic about the rawness of it all. Like nothing has tainted it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Turner asks in a more normal tone than the whisper, or that outrageously loud yelp of his.

I looked up holding up the stomach, “Here, drain this, it’ll dry up nice for a bowl.”

“What are you? Some kind of cavewoman?” He’s completely baffled and I’m loving every juicy moment. Somebody hand me a biscuit, because I’m going to savor this one.

“Would you rather I curl up in a ball and lay half dead while you jerked off on my ass?? Again!!” I asked looking back down at what I was doing. “Do you like liver and kidneys? These don’t look half bad. Stuff ‘em with the right herbs they’ll cook up nice.”

He took the stomach, and his bewildered expression, away to dump the stomach contents. They tend to stink worse than the colon depending on the kill. Most people just smell guts. I can tell you the difference between a liver and a kidney by smell alone. Creepy huh?

When I finished gutting the deer, and gathering the innards I wanted, I looked at Turner, “I’m just a worthless woman, who can’t do shit. I suggest you carry the deer back, I’m too weak after killing your dinner.”

He bent to secure the deer’s head under his arm, “I never said you were worthless.”

“You treat me like I am, same difference.” I have a good head for directions, years of hunting I suppose, so getting back to camp was easier than finding the deer.

I hung the stomach up like I wanted for drying first, then set about finding trees the right size to build a rack.

“What are you doing now?” He asked sitting down with the deer’s head in his lap.

“Leave my deer alone, my kill, my problem. Go play with your own toys. I won that bet Mr. Colson, and you damn well know it.” I held his knife up, “Come after me, I’ll slit you from ear to ear and carve Joker on your forehead.”

His eyebrows went up as his eyes got big. He stood up setting the deer down. “I can see taming you will require more than I expected.”

“If you can see that, you should be able to see that as long as I have this knife, and you’re still being a dick, taming me could be hazardous to your health.” I warned him.

He growled and left camp. Good. “Asshole.” I started feeling better after my kill. By the time I got a rack built, which was shaky at best without my usual gear, and the meat cooking, it was almost dark. It takes a long time to skin a deer if you want to keep the hide in tact. Then I had to deal with the antlers.

For the fun of it I cleaned the skull really well in the river and stuck it on a low hanging branch.

I stepped back to admire my trophy. “That one’s for you Pop.” I smiled satisfied and decided whiskey would be a great way to celebrate.

Turner showed back up around dark dragging a couple very large logs. One might do well to carve out a couch to sit on. The ground gets old, so do the rocks and stumps worn too low to the ground making getting up and down difficult.

He dropped the logs looking ragged and worn out.

I watched as he kicked and threw his clothes off and disappeared towards the river.

I followed with the bottle of whiskey and sat on the embankment while he swam. Maybe I’ll go in later, but right now I’m still relishing the stink of my kill. We won’t need meat again for a week. I look forward to my next kill. Maybe it’ll be Turner.

I laughed to myself taking the first swig from the bottle. The heat burned all the way down to the pit of my stomach making me sigh out loud.

Turner saw me and swam over to emerge from the water like a huge reborn warrior. I waited knowing I still have his knife at my back if he gets nasty.

He held out his hand for the bottle.

I lifted it up for him to take, “Rough day dear?”

He shrugged and walked past me taking the bottle with him back to camp.

“Oh, so now we’re back to the silent treatment. Good. Your voice annoys me anyway.”

He continued to ignore me for the next three days. He even went so far as to separate the blankets so I’d sleep a few feet away. I got the feeling he stopped caring whether I was really there or not, so I started thinking about leaving again.

It’s been almost a week. I should be able to pick up where I left off easily enough at work. The thought was depressing. Despite Turner’s attitude and childish behavior, I’m having fun! I miss camping and living off the land, it fills me with a feeling of being connected to nature. I love it.

Turner took a chunk of meat off the deer on the makeshift spit I’d made. He looked at me like he wanted permission to eat it.

I nodded, “Go ahead. Not like I can eat it all.”

He gave me a dirty look but ate anyway. I would never deny a brother food, shelter, or water. I grew up around these people. Maybe I wasn’t one of them, but I know the life well. Well enough to respect it. Well enough to know I could get in deep shit for turning away from a brother in need.

I remember one story about a brother who offered his home up to help another brother out but his wife stepped in and said no. He lost his cut, but not his tats. He was lucky.

I don’t think Turner is really in need. I’m sure he’s a great hunter, with a gun. I’m sure he figured one-upping me by coming back with a bigger deer would be nothing but a waste, and a clear window into his insecurities. Like I need a clearer window.

Maybe a little Windex would be good, just so I can figure out the why behind all this. What does he really want? I’m sure he could talk some bimbo into falling at his feet. Why me?

He knew I was a lawyer. He watched me for hours before he kidnapped me. Why would he assume I was submissive after watching me in the clubhouse bar that night.

I’ve gone over and over it in my head. I can’t see what I did that would lead him on in such a way.

I looked up when his shadow blocked the fire. “Hi.”

He snorted with a fresh cut of now smoked meat in his hand and threw my blanket back down on his before sitting down next to me.

I bumped his shoulder with mine. “How is it?”

He nodded taking another bite. I guess I’m still getting the silent treatment. Oh well. A giant yawn escaped me. “Is this all the whiskey you brought?”

He nodded.

“We might need more.” I held up an almost empty bottle. I think we’ve both been self-medicating ourselves to sleep the last three nights.

“I’ll make a run into town tomorrow.” He said in that low, almost whisper.

“You can take me too, and drop me off if you want.” I suggested hopefully.

“Why would I do that?” He seemed genuinely concerned and looked at me.

I shrugged and tugged on my blanket he’s sitting on. “I’m tired, can I have this?”

“You sleep here with me. What makes you think I’d take you back?” He asked pressing the issue.