Page 24 of Caught By A Cowboy

Elliot is lying back on his couch with porn on his 50-inch T.V. and a crack pipe on his coffee table.

“You can tell Benzo from me I ain’t happy,” He tokes back on his blunt and blows the smoke into the air. “If he keeps telling everyone he meets about my little enterprise, the next knock I'll be gettin’ will be the cops.” He checks the end of his blunt when it goes out, then picking up a lighter he relights it.

“What ya lookin’ for?”

I slide the hoodie off my head and when he sees that it’s me, all that cock-sure confidence obliterates.

“I don’t think it's the cops you need to worry about, Elliot.” I kick the table out of my way so I can get to him, getting a firm grip on his throat and pinning him to the back of his filthy, worn couch.

“You thought you were gonna get away with what ya did?” I shake my head and let him see how much pleasure I’m gonna get from his suffering.

“Did ya really think we were gonna let you come to our town, and rape those girls without consequence?” I soak up his fear and laugh.

“Jace, I… I didn’t do it.” He shakes his head sternly.

“You sent a video to one of your buddies, dick-head.” I have to push the vision of it to the back of my head. “I saw it formyself. That girl was drugged, she couldn’t have consented to it, even if she wanted to.”

Elliot swallows against the arch of my hand when he realizes he’s in deep fuckin’ shit.

“If you got evidence, why not take it to the police?” he splutters.

“Because the general consensus is that prison’s too good a place for ya. We’d much prefer you went to Hell.”

“Consensus of who?” He looks as confused as he is fearful.

“Of the people who protect Clearwater Creek from cunts like you.” Taking the rope, I start to wrap it around his neck and watch his eyes bulge out the sockets.

“You're gonna feel real bad about what ya did, Elliot, and that guilt is gonna be too much.” When I’m confident that the rope’s got a good hold, I tie it in a knot and use it like a leash to drag him on his feet. Now, I just gotta find somewhere to hang this fucker. There's a huge metal pipe that runs across the apartment ceiling that I’m sure would hold him, and I grab one of the chairs from the table and hold him steady with one arm as I force him to stand on it. I toss the loose end of the rope up and over the rafter with my free hand. Doing this alone won’t be easy, maybe I should have brought Sawyer, after all.

“You can’t be serious. You're not gonna…”

“Kill ya?” I laugh at him again as I throw the rope over a few more times so it's got some grip, then I wink at him as I test the strain.

“I’m not just gonna kill ya, Elliot, I’m gonna really fuckin’ enjoy it.” I kick the chair from under him and take the strain of the rope, watching his panicked eyes widen and his legs kick out. I make sure the last thing he sees as his breath runs out is the satisfaction in my smile. Keeping the rope in my hands, I lean down to pick up the chair, stand up on it, and secure the rope around the rafter so this scene will pass as a suicide. I’d say afew words for the fucker before I left if I could think of anything good, but seeing as I can’t, I lift my hood back up and leave him swingin’.

Once I’m back in the truck, I take off my gloves and place them on the dash, scrubbing my hand over my face and letting the adrenaline settle. Every time I take a life I get a rush, I don’t know if it’s the same for Sawyer, but I’m certain that it’s unhealthy. Tonight, knowing that I ridded the world of another of its dangers, knowing that I just made it a safer place for Maddison MacKenzie to live in, gave me an even greater sense of achievement. I lift up my phone and when I see I got a message from her I smile to myself as I open it.

Is it crazy that I miss you?

Damn that girl, and the way she makes me feel. Damn her for getting in my head and for giving me the kind of thoughts I’ve been having these past few days.

I jump when my cell starts to vibrate and when I see my uncle's name flashing, I click to answer.

“It’s done,” I assure him, starting up the engine and heading back toward the lock-up where we keep the van.

“Was it clean?”

“About as clean as I could get it. I left him swingin’ from a pipe in his apartment.” I don’t feel an ounce of remorse. I never do because every man I’ve ever killed has deserved to die.

“I’ll let Eli know. Don’t forget to change the license plates back on the van,” he reminds me as if I’m some kind of amateur. “And Jace…We’ll talk about that girl when I come over tomorrow.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to discuss,” I tell him, making sure he hears the warning in my tone.

“Like I said, we’ll talk tomorrow.” He hangs up before I get the chance to argue with him.

It’s way past ten when I eventually get home, and seeing Maddison sitting on the couch, waiting for me, gives me a real good feeling.

“Where did you get Chinese food from, around here?” She leaps up with excitement when she sees the containers I’m carrying.

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