The Wrong Kind of Love

I get the delivery handled and am halfway to the back office when a text buzzes on my phone. West: We’ve got a problem. Where are you?

Me: Elysium.

West: Be there in five.

Annoyance tears through me. Fuck. It’s not even noon, and this day is already an avalanche of shit. I’m tempted to chuck the phone against the wall, but I don’t. Instead, I go out front, tell Tor not to leave, and wait for West’s patrol car to pull in.

Five minutes later, he rounds the side of the club. He climbs out of his cruiser, jutting his chin toward the car as he rounds the trunk. “He came into the station rambling about his kidnapped girlfriend. Named Rich as the kidnapper.” West swipes a palm over his mouth. “I got him outta there before he got anyone’s ears up, but he’s definitely a problem.”

I fight the smile tugging at my lips because that fucker–I glance to the blond guy in the backseat–he’s like a damn Christmas present wrapped up in a bloodstained bow.

“Let’s get rid of him.” I look at West, already on my way to the passenger side of his police car. “We can take him to county road ten, down by Smith Lake. Kill him and dump him.” I shouldn’t be so happy about killing some college kid, but the second I picture him handing Tor over to Rich… I’m downright motherfucking gleeful.

I slide into the front seat, glancing at the little shithead in the back through the plexiglass as West sinks behind the wheel. This jackass has on khaki slacks and a collared shirt. He looks every bit the entitled prick I expected, and the fact that Tor went for him makes me irate.

“I’m looking for my girlfriend,” he says, his eyes all sad. It takes every bit of control I possess not to open that plexiglass window and punch him in the face. “That’s what Officer West said.” I swallow, tempering my voice. “I think I can help.” By putting a damn bullet between your beady little eyes.

The engine cranks, and I shoot Marney a text to keep an eye on Tor, because this shit–it’s going to take a minute.

Euan spends the forty-five-minute drive through Dayton rambling about Victoria. About how he messed up, how much he loved her. How they were going to get married and live this fairytale life with two kids, a dog, and a fucking yacht.

Each bullshit life plan he mumbles makes me want to tell West to pull over so I can go ahead and get it over with.

By the time we park at the abandoned marina, I’m out of patience, and realize just how screwed I am because everytime he mentioned Tor all I could think was that she was mine. I haven’t even fucked the girl.

I exit the car and pace while West goes to the back to open Euan’s door. The second the kid stumbles out of the cop car, an unsettled gaze falls over his face. He glances around the abandoned area, stopping on the lake where his body is about to be. “Why are we here?” he asks.

I’m tempted to pull my gun and put a bullet in his head right now, but I want the fucker to know what’s coming. I glance at West, and he grabs Euan’s arms, forcing them behind his back. Euan twists in a pitiful effort to get away whining for us to let him go like a little bitch.

I pull my gun from my belt and click the safety off. “Is that what your girlfriend said when you passed her off as collateral.”

“Please, please, please.” The little shit whimpers, like his life is worth begging for.

“Tell me, fuckface, did you beg for her like that?” I lift the gun and aim, and he loses his shit, rambling that he loved her.

And that blows any patience I had to smithereens. He loved her? Hell no he didn’t. He handed Tor over. He knowingly put her in harm's way for his fucking uncle. He did nothing to protect her, and he has the audacity to tell me he fucking loved her. I snatch him out of West’s grasp, bringing his face inches from mine as I press the gun to his temple. “You didn’t even try to save her!”

Tears seep from his eyes. “Uncle Tom said he’d kill me.”

“Don’t you cry, you piece of shit.”

“Please,” he whimpers. “I’ll pay you fifty grand.”

Oh, this stupid motherficker. Now he’ll offer money, to save his own ass. What a worthless motherfucker. I fight through my raging pulse and force a smile, then drop the gun to my side.

“What are you doing?” Confusion flashes over West’s face.

“Letting him go.”

West’s brows pull together in a disapproving frown when I release Euan, and the very second I do, Euan takes off.