Page 65 of Taunting Tarran
I rise to my feet, grabbing Carlos’s arms as he wails, and I pull him away from the guards. I unlatch the pig pen door, and without a word, I shove him inside. His body stumbles in the chaos of squeals and grunts as the pigs stir, erratically sensing the blood spurting from between his legs.
‘Let him bleed to death, if he lasts that long.’ I turn on my heel, and walk away purposely leaving the pen door left open. Without looking back, I smile at Gabriel. ‘When they’re done, they’re free to go, too. I never did like seeing wild animals caged.’
Gabriel nods, ‘I don’t know about you, Tarran, but I could use a drink.’
CHAPTER 32
THE PUNISHER
I pour the whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the glass as Sal strides over. He pushes a manila folder towards me as if it weighs a tonne.
‘In between our broken calls, I managed to dig up some info on your mother,’ he says.
I barely look at the folder, before shaking my head. ‘That chapter is done, Sal. I know what my father did, how they treated her, how it ended. I don’t need to live through it again.’
Sal’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push.
‘It’s there if you change your mind,’ he replies. His posture stiffens, his gaze flickering to the window as the wild boars leave their pen. They’re sniffing softly as they wander towards the window. Their bristly, dark coats gleaming in the sharp,morning rays. The boars dart nervously, their bodies twitching at the faintest snap of a branch. Their movements are sudden and sharp and with a final burst of energy, they shoot off into the protective embrace of the woods.
‘They terrify the bajeebies outta me,’ he scoffs. He shifts back to the moment, his jaw tightening as his eyes look at the folder.
I nod, ‘Thanks, Sal!’ but he isn’t done. He moves closer as we stare out of the window, his voice dropping as he leans in. ‘Carlos and I had an interesting chat in the car.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I say, passing Tarran her glass.
‘Apparently, your grandfather bought this land from one of the original families from the area. They sold it to him with the understanding they could stay on it, live off it – like they always had. And for while, they left him alone and your grandfather kept his side of the bargain.’
I glare at him, urging him to continue. ‘Then what happened?’
Sal’s mouth twists. ‘Your grandfather had other plans. The animals started disappearing from over hunting, the land became unprofitable and the family was left abandoned, up there without a way to survive. Now, only three brothers remain.’
‘Wrong,’ Tarran cuts in suddenly. ‘There are four of them.’
We jerk our heads towards her, ‘Four?’ I ask, not remembering the fourth person.
‘Yes. When I got you out, I saw a girl – not much older than about twelve. But she was heavily pregnant.Verypregnant.’
‘Then we have to go and rescue her!’ Sal remarks.
‘No,’ Tarran snaps, shaking her head. ‘She’s one of them. She didn’t move, just cowered in the corner when I took Gabriel. Her eyes had been stitched shut; I don’t think she even knew what was going on.’
‘One of them?’ Sal asks, his face contorting in confusion.
‘They’re disfigured, mutants, I d-don’t know what they are. But I’m sure as hell not going back.’
‘So what happens now?’ Sal asks, probing the void of awkwardness.
‘Carlos, those people, they killed my friends. All but one – Emma. If we can find thefinca, we might find her.’
‘Very well, I’ll get on it,’ Sal nods, sensing the urgency in Tarran’s tone.
‘Yes, Sal, what do we do now...’ I consider the games – the twisted inheritance my father left behind. They are tradition after all, or a curse.
Traditions are meant to be broken.
Perhaps, like the club, it needs to be burnt down and reborn – thanks insurance.
Here, metaphorically speaking, of course. My lips curl into a sly smile as I knock back the whiskey while looking out of the window, Tarran huddling beside me.
