Redemption: AmBw Romantic Suspense

Hand-in-hand, Wyatt walked out with Selena. A tall, white man. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Not all muscle, but he had strength. Without a gun, I could take him. But with all his combat experience, we could be equaled. That was of course, if he had a weapon.

Selena was a heavy set Latin woman. Long black hair. She held flowers in one hand. The biggest smile covered her face. He whispered something to her. She giggled.

I guess the flowers, pizza, and movie tickets were enough to forget about the restraining order you put on him. Let’s hope he won’t lose his temper with you this week. How much do you know about his wife and kids?

I remained in the shadows as they got into the car parked in the driveway. The whole time, I continued to assess Wyatt. He limped. Each few steps, he held his crotch like he was in pain.

Ebony got your ass good. Didn’t she?

Due to him buying the porno flick at the hotel, I figured he could still use his dick.

Hope you enjoy yourself. You’ll be in a morgue soon. Live it up.

They drove off.

I waited in the car for twenty more minutes, just in case they happened to drive back due to forgetting something. The whole time I checked the neighborhood. The streetlights were dim. The one on the corner was out, probably due to the storm. Besides that, it looked like a normal working class area. Curtains covered windows. Nobody appeared to be looking out. So cold, no one sat on the porches or hung about.

When I was sure, Wyatt and Selena wouldn’t return, I dug into my black bag, put the facemask on, pulled out the Glock, and kept the pick locks in my pocket. I checked the Glock again. Seventeen bullets rested in the gun. I put a spare magazine in my other pocket, set an empty bookbag on my back, and left the truck.

If Wyatt returned, he would be full of bullets.

Hopefully, Selena wouldn’t get in the way.

I placed the gun in my waistband, left the truck, crossed the street, stayed within the shadows, and headed to the far side of the garage.

Adrenaline coursed through me. I had no idea, if Selena had an alarm or if anyone had caught me. I would have to be quick, get as much information as I could and leave.

Maybe, I can go to the theater, kill him, and move on.

Excitement pumped through my blood, making my heart slam in my chest.

No. Too public. I don’t want the cops on me.

In Chicago, I could be sloppy, get the target outside, and know that the mob would cover it. They had enough police on payroll to make most evidence go away. Now, I would have to plan my killing out and make sure all grounds were covered.

Putting on black gloves, I scanned the neighborhood, saw no activity coming from any of the other houses, and snuck into Selena’s backyard. The back door had a simple lock. It took less than a minute to get through. No alarm came on, when I opened it. No dog appeared.

I stepped inside.

The small living room was completely empty. Two old pizza boxes sat on the table next to an opened six pack of beer. All of the cans had been crushed and left by the boxes.

I waited for a few seconds but heard nothing.

I went to the window, slowly opened the curtain wide, and let the moonlight in. The space illuminated more. With that, I took my time going through everything, lifting the couch cushions, checking for anything interesting that I could find.

In the kitchen, I turned on my light, but made sure it was low. I spotted two bottles from the Portland hospital. One was antibiotics probably to stop any infection. The other was pain pills. I took them into the bathroom next to the living room, opened the bottles, poured them in the toilet, and flushed.

Fuck you, Wyatt. Hopefully, you won’t blame Selena, but you don’t deserve to heal. And the last thing you need is anything to stop the pain.

Placing the pills back on the counter, I shut off the flashlight and listened for any noise. Only silence came. I crept up the stairs and checked the first bedroom. When I shut on the flashlight, I spotted men’s shoes by the bed and a small suitcase.

This has to be where they sleep.

The bed was unmade. Blankets were wrinkled. Sheet halfway off and exposing a dirty mattress. An empty bottle of gin sat on the nightstand. A long dildo rested on the other with a big tube of lubrication next to it.

Who needs the dildo, Wyatt? You or her?

I went back to her bedroom and checked the nightstand with the empty bottle. Keys lay next to it.

Wait. You didn’t take your car?