Rugger: The Huntress (The Grey List #3)

Chapter 10

TEN

I slipped into the second Tom Ford knee-high boot that instantly spiked my confidence. The gold heel was stunning. The leather was flawless. And, the length was perfect for the black dress that stretched to accommodate me.

Excellent taste .

The gift from Sonnie was on the bed when I woke up tangled in his sheets three nights ago. He was nowhere to be found, but a large box and a note was in his place. How I’d slept through his departure was beyond me.

In the full length mirror, I studied myself while pulling the trench up onto my shoulders. There wasn’t a piece of fabric out of place. My hair was in a high ponytail that flowed down my back.

There was a single fish-tail braid keeping the strands joined. Each shift of my limbs influenced its movements. Dramatically, it swung from one side to the other.

My cell vibrated on the console table, stealing my attention. The unknown number didn’t prompt me to answer. I ignored the call and unlocked my phone. I opened the flip phone that had been laying beside it and copied the number into the message box in preparation to send to Royce. Before I pressed send, the number was calling again.

I slid my finger across the screen to connect the call. Silence coated the line. The hairs on my arms rose toward the sky. My nostrils flared and, involuntarily, my hand rested against my chest.

This thing that had come over me was inexplicable. It was dangerous. And, it was utterly scary. There wasn’t a single thing on God’s green earth I was afraid of other than harm being brought to my family. But, this feeling had me shaking in my Tom Ford boots.

“Gazelle,” Psalms called out to me.

The name he’d given me had begun to grow on me.

“Where are you?”

I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was meek. It was mild. It was sheepish. It was soft .

The longing in my soul wouldn’t allow me to conceal my craving. It had been four days since I’d laid eyes on Psalms and I was longing for his presence. His touch. His baritone.

“I’m coming, baby.”

His words soothed my core.

“Okay.”

“But, I have news.”

My stomach sank to the sole of my boots.

“Sonnie–”

“A driver is waiting outside for you.”

I lifted my dress and removed my gun from its holster. A heavy breath pushed through the phone as I took off toward the door.

“He’s clean, Gazelle. He has a family. Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“I have a family, too,” I reminded him, still making strides toward the door.

“He’s vetted. Clyde Norman. That’s his government name. You can either call and confirm with your people or you can trust me. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.”

I paused, taking his words into consideration. When I finally snatched the door open, my gun was in its holster.

“Thank you.”

“No more drivers, Sonnie. Just you.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Before you go–” he paused.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a device in his ear. The detonator is the small keypad in the zipper part of your purse. Should he make any sudden moves, blow his brains to pieces.”

I chuckled, “Ten steps ahead, huh?”

“Always.”

“I thought he had family,” I toyed.

“I think you of all people understand I don’t give a fuck,” Sonnie clarified.

I ended the call and stepped outside where Clyde was waiting beside the black Cadillac truck.

“Mrs. Pickman?”

Psalms had provided an alias.

“Clyde?”

Black threads covered him from head to toe. His brown skin and thick stature were his best features. He was solid. His gym membership was active and he was using it every chance work allowed him to. I wasn’t assuming. There was proof in the bulge of his jacket from his massive arms.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He opened the door. I closed the distance between us and halted when our bodies were inches apart.

“Clyde,” I called out.

“Yes, ma’am?”

I lowered my eyes briefly, taking a peek at the diamond wedding band on his left hand.

“Do you love your wife?”

He nodded.

“For the last fourteen years of my life.”

“Good. If you want to love her for fifteen, then I suggest you not blink more times than the average human, make no sudden moves, or take any unplanned detours. I can and I will blow a hole the size of Huffington in your head, forcing your family to have a closed casket homegoing. So, are we clear or will your children be crying over your lifeless body in a week?”

“I’ve already been warned,” he sighed with a shake of the head, “and I appreciate the reminder but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m just here to drive.”

“Well, we should get going now.”

I patted his shoulder and climbed inside. My cheeks peaked along with my heartbeat at the sight of the large black suitcase with the red bow on the seat next to me. I retrieved it and replaced the case with my bag, careful not to put it on the floor.

My mother had deemed it bad luck. Though I wasn’t superstitious, what Rhea said always stayed with me. Just like Richie’s word, her word was law.

I unfastened the case and lifted the top to reveal the most beautiful micro-arsenal. Six compact Rugers were tucked inside of black foam that kept them in place.

Beautiful.

I ran my hand across them one by one. Psalms knew the way to my heart and it wasn’t bags and jewelry. It was guns and ammo.

Three 9mm.

Three 45 automatics .

Instantly, I’d fallen in love. The sleekness of their frames made my center throb. I closed the case as anxiousness swelled in my belly. I wanted Psalms’ body against mine.

His dick in my mouth.

His hand caressing my pussy.

His toes curling as he came for a second time .

The snowfall in Clarke had officially begun and would likely continue until winter’s end. The ground was covered in a sheet of the white fluffiness. Evidence of holiday cheer lined the streets.

We crept through Mount Clarke at a snail’s pace, careful on the black ice that blended with the darkness of the winding roads. Meridian was our destination and it wasn’t long before we had arrived.

Clyde swung the door open and allowed the cold inside. Gracefully, I departed the vehicle just as my phone began ringing again. I was beginning to hate the device even more but the now-familiar number on the screen killed the thought fairly quickly.

“Sonnie…”

“You won’t need those where you’re going. Keep them in the truck.”

I smacked my lips, trying to decide if I wanted to disobey his orders or oblige.

“Gazelle.”

His stern warning made the decision quite simple. I handed the suitcase over to Clyde.

“Don’t touch my things.”

“I had no intention, ma’am.”

I ended the call with Psalms without another word. The doors of Opé parted as I approached them. Staff waited inside to keep warm.

“Good evening, Mrs. Pickman.”

I was greeted upon entry. The tallest of the hosting trio stood behind me, preparing to remove my coat.

“Good evening.”

He slid the cashmere from my shoulders. With a loud thud, it hit the ground.

“Oh shi– shoot. Uh. I apologize, ma’am.”

With eyebrows that attempted meeting at the center of my face, I observed as he attempted to rectify his mistake. I was both unimpressed and unconcerned with his efforts. In my opinion, no mistake had been made.

No , I didn’t want my coat on the floor of a restaurant that had heavy foot traffic throughout the day, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, we weren’t near the main entrance. We were at the private wing of their establishment.

“I– uh–”

The weight of the coat had his tongue tied and his thoughts jumbled.

“Hmph,” I murmured.

“I– sorry–”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve never had the pleasure of feeling the steel of an automatic weapon in your measly palms. I’m sorry you’ve never felt that kind of power. I’m sorry you’ve never experienced that rush. And, I’m sorry it’ll be at least another day until you do.”

His shift would end and he’d be home in bed before the clock struck twelve. The next day, he’d get up and do it all again. It was the cycle of life and it would stop him from living out my greatest fantasies as a kid his age.

Nevertheless, I allowed him to regain control of the fabric and hang it in the closet where they stored their guests’ coats. I’d vomited at the mouth to a total stranger and needed to escape the repulsed feeling I’d been plagued with.

Food . I concluded. And, Sonnie .

“Don’t get curious, George,” I warned, certain the name I’d given him wasn’t on his identification. His name was Kaden. I’d studied his tag and those the others wore as well. Shana, Quinton, and Kaden .

“Right this way, Mrs. Pickman,” Quinton greeted me as he waved a hand in the direction we were headed.

I placed one foot in front of the other, managing a very straight, very fine line. The beige aesthetics of the restaurant was soothing. Six-foot tall lamps with warm white bulbs inside lit the pathways.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

My center ached with anticipation. Sonnie had been missing for far too many days and I had been far too busy to realize how much I missed the sound of his voice and the feeling of his skin against mine.

His presence brought me relief. When he was near, naturally, my head and heart could relax. I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to speak. I didn’t have to engage my senses at any point. He managed my existence and his simultaneously and with so much grace it left no room to wonder.

His ability to lead wasn’t questionable. He handled things well. He handled me well. His patience was no playground, but he exercised it freely. Because of it, we’d survived the hurdles we faced with our occupation, personal rules, and standard regulations. Now that we were on the other side of things, I could see the vision. I could see his vision. And, it was slowly becoming mine.

I entered the private sector dedicated to us. My heart ached as I got closer to the table in the middle of the floor. I waited for the overwhelming feeling of comfort and contentment. There was nothing.

There was nothing but a long man with a meaty frame standing mere feet away from me. I shoved my hand in my purse and gripped the Beretta inside. Either I’d been escorted to the wrong room or something incredibly sinister was going on. I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

“Gazelle?”

I halted. The voice felt oddly familiar. I've heard it almost every day over the last two months. But, this one was older, seemingly wiser, and much more gentle than I’d recalled.

I turned around on the tips of my toes. The gap between us had lessened and I could see clearly, now. Every feature. Every strand of hair. Every protruding curve and every carving of his figure.

They reminded me so much of him. They were replicas, almost. My heart threatened to burst in my chest as the realization struck me.

“Solomon,” he confirmed, extending a hand.

As if it was diseased, I lowered my eyes to it, but couldn’t find the strength to engage. The desire was present, but I was immobile.

“I was sent an address and a name. The staff led me back here and asked me to wait for– for you, I guess.”

He kissed the skin of his teeth and sighed. His shoulders rounded as defeat covered his handsome features. I instantly regretted my temporary disability. I was incapable of moving. Incapable of speaking. I was still trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

“I could only assume you’re connected to my son. I would bet my last dollar it was a message from him. Every so often, I get these one to two sentence texts. Sometimes strange and possibly coded, but it’s him. It’s always him. There’s never a doubt in my mind it’s him. So, I need you to tell me who you are and what you mean to my son.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Partly because I wasn’t sure what I meant to Psalms and partly because I was still processing the moment.

His phone vibrated in his hand. He pecked at the screen before turning it around to face me. In the text thread with the address and my name in a message just above it, he showed me a new one.

“Th– the world.”

I read the message out loud. The cracking of my voice forced me to acknowledge my feelings and the fact that I needed to sit before my legs gave out on me completely. My lids grew heavier, forcing me to blink.

Slowly, I reopened my eyes as inebriation made its presence known. I hadn’t sipped one drink or taken a puff of anything, yet I was utterly intoxicated. Psalms was the drink of choice.

A smile lifted his cheeks into the air. He, too, had a revelation of some sort. The change in his demeanor revealed his new level of confidence. Of comfort .

“You should have a seat,” he offered, extending his right arm toward the table.

“Y–yeah. I should.”

On wobbly legs, I cleared the distance between myself and the table. Solomon removed the chair from underneath the table and had it waiting by the time I neared it. Once settled, he pushed it up to the table and had a seat directly across from me.

Two glasses of water and a dirty martini appeared on the table. I didn’t realize the waitress had come until she was on her way out of the door.

Snap. Snap. I searched for Teddy’s voice in the midst of the madness happening in my head.

Focus, baby .

Though I was already struggling with cognizance, I reached for the martini glass and held it up against my lips. The first sip was refreshing.

“Sixteen years,” he scoffed, “I haven’t seen my son in sixteen years. Until the end of October, I hadn’t heard from him in twelve. But, he felt inclined to reach out and tell me about you.”

“What did he say?”

The words rolled out of my head and off my tongue before I could stop them. What was circulating in my head wasn’t supposed to materialize, but it had. I took another sip of the martini, hoping it would soothe my nerves.

“That he’d met a woman and that his mother would love her.”

At the thought of his mother, I began to sympathize with the man across the table. He’d lost the love of his life and his son in the same year. Though Psalms was still breathing, his absence made his father feel as though he wasn’t.

“I’d have to agree with him,” he stated, peeling the paper from his straw.

A smile teased my lips.

“He looks just like you,” I informed Solomon.

“We’re here for a reason and I–”

“We have the Chef’s Special for you,” the waitress announced, placing two plates in front of me, “Seafood edition. And, for you, sir, we have Chef’s Special–steak edition. Butters and sauces.”

She placed the platter of sauces and butters in the center of the table.

“Another martini and a Vodka on the rocks for you, sir.”

“Thank you,” Solomon responded, accepting his drink.

He sipped the clear liquid and placed the glass back on the table. His anguished eyes rested on my face. I waited for him to continue.

“There’s no need to beat around the bush, Gazelle. Tell me about my son. And, tell me everything. Don’t leave out a detail. I’m not sure how much time you have, but I have all night to hear about Sonnie Boy.”

“Did you give him that name?”

“No. His mother.”

“He prefers it,” I told him, releasing the second detail.

Their resemblance was the first.

“Figures,” he chuckled with a nod. “Figures. He loved his mother dearly.”

His smile faded.

“He still does.”

“Good. Good. So what’s he like? Does he still get out there on the court?”

He’s in the field, Mr. Santoro. He’s the furthest from the court .

“I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him play, but I haven’t been around long.”

“For a living– what does he do?”

He’s a killer. He hunts .

“He’s a tech guy. Computers are his thing.”

“And that keeps him from his old man?”

Murdering does .

“His level of clearance doesn’t allow him to communicate with people he loves. It puts them in harm’s way.”

“Then, why are you the exception?”

He grabbed the knife and began cutting into his steak.

I am harm, Mr. Santoro .

“Our meeting was accidental. We met at work. I have the same clearance.”

Same kills. Same contracts. Same assignments .

“Hm. Most of them are.”

“Meetings?”

“Yes.”

I watched him dip his steak in the house steak sauce. The meat disappeared in his mouth after a few seconds. He sipped from the water and looked up at me.

“You’re going to watch me or are you going to eat, dear?”

Sonnie was every bit of his father. I couldn’t quite detach myself from the revelation. Every move he made reminded me of his son.

“When I’m ready,” I stated.

Sniggering, his father nodded. “Yeah. She’d love you.”

Over lobster, scallops, crab meat shavings, oysters, jumbo shrimp, steak, and alcoholic beverages, we shared fond thoughts of Psalms. It was very clear that his father admired a man he had very little knowledge of. And, it was clear that he missed him dearly.

2.92 hours later…

Solomon stood tall with his arms stretched. His head shook from one side to the other.

“Well, as much as I hate to walk away from this table and depart from the closest thing I’ve had to having Sonnie here with me, I think I’ve held you hostage long enough. Tell my son, wherever he is and whoever he’s become– I’m proud of him. I love him and I hope one day soon we can be together again.”

My body lunged forward from his grip. He pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me until my shoulders were pressed against his. He was in no hurry to release me. Feeling the weight of his son’s absence in his entire frame, I held onto him.

It didn’t matter that I’d rather remove him from my personal space in an instant or that physical touch was the furthest from my love language. He was hurting and he was an extension of Sonnie.

And, I, too, knew the pain he hoarded. Being separated from my family wore heavily on my spirit as well.

“Merry Christmas, Gazelle,” he whispered as he began to pull backward.

“Rugger,” I uttered as we broke our connection.

A raised brow of his displayed his confusion. I shared his bewilderment. Why I’d released such personal information was beyond me but it felt right. Just as the moment did. Just as the three hours I’d spent with him did. Just as catching him up on his son did.

“Rugger Childers,” I admitted, extending a hand, “He prefers Gazelle. So– let’s stick wi–”

“It was his mother’s favorite animal.”

I nodded with a smile. “Figures.”

“Goodnight, Gazelle, and Merry Christmas.”

Soreness tugged at my heartstrings. Three years ago, I would’ve been surrounded by my siblings and our parents as we opened presents gifted by one another before starting our Christmas Eve movie marathon.

On Christmas morning, we’d wake up and dine at the family table before all parting ways to spend our holiday as we pleased. Most of us never left our family residence. The rest would eventually find their way back, because we hardly had anyone but each other. Two years ago, that had all changed.

This year, Sonnie was the closest thing to family I had within reach. A trip to St. Catana would have sufficed, but sunny days and eighty degree weather made it hard to feel anything remotely close to the holiday spirit.

Rather had Priest and their son. Though she wouldn’t mind, I didn’t care to intrude on their first Christmas as a family. Sonnie was my safety net this holiday. His father had unknowingly become part of my small Christmas celebration. For them both, I was thankful.

“Merry Christmas.”

I walked out of the restaurant with my heart on my sleeves. Emotions mounted, threatening to spill from my eyes at any given moment. Sadness wasn’t the culprit this time. It was something else.

Something greater.

Something powerful.

Something foreign.

Something deeper.

Something profound .

Clyde’s presence was almost nonexistent in comparison to whatever was consuming me. I passed by him and climbed into the truck. Immediately, I was struck with the recognizable aroma. The distinctive pull, like magnets in a metal wasteland, pulled me across the small space between the seats and into outstretched arms.

“Baby–” I whimpered, feeling the pain of our existence all over me.

My body was set ablaze as his hands roamed my back, rubbing up and down as his lips found mine.

“Gazelle,” he breathed into my mouth.

I tightened my grip around his neck, secretly vowing to never let go. My heart swelled and exploded in my chest. Its overflow leaked from my mouth into Sonnie’s. The rest stung my eyes.

“Gaze– Baby.”

Concern was etched in his tone. His hands drew closer to my face until they were both on my cheeks.

“Baby… are you– Baby–”

He broke away, holding my face ever so gingerly just inches away from his.

“You’re crying.”

His eyes glossed in the dark, sparkling like bright Christmas lights in the night hours. As my vision blurred, I shook my head from one side to the other.

Snap. Snap.

I couldn’t be rescued. I couldn’t be saved.

Snap. Snap.

Teddy – My thoughts rang out.

Snap. Snap.

The pain didn’t stop. The aching didn’t subside.

Teddy, what happens now?

Snap. Snap.

“What’s the matter, Gazelle?”

“No– noth– nothing,” I choked out.

“Then, why are you crying, my love?”

I removed one of his hands from my cheeks and lowered it to my chest.

“It… it hurts so good. It hurts for you. It longs for you. It waits for you. It beats for you. It listens for you. It craves you. It–”

“Baby–”

“It’s falling for you.”

“Oh baby, please don’t threaten me with a good thing, Gazelle.”

I shook my head from one side to the other.

“Sonnie, I’m afraid,” I confessed.

He swiped the tears from my eyes as he questioned, “Of what?”

“Of what happens next.”

“You keep falling, Gazelle. And, I catch you. Every time. Every year. Every month. Every week. Every day. Every hour. Every second. I catch you. Over and over and over again. You understand me?”

I nodded.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me you understand me. Tell me you understand that I will be there to catch you every time. Good. Bad. Messy. Ugly. Whatever. Whenever. I’ll be right there. You hear me?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good, because besides that man you just left in there, you’re all I have. And, for me, that’s more than enough.”

I crashed my lips into his. The dress I wore had already risen above my thighs. Psalms wasted very little time pulling it over my ass. He tore into my black stockings, ripping a hole in the center to release the heat from my volcano. It was near eruption.

He loosened his pants and forced them down his thighs along with his boxers. The warmth of his manhood greeted my center. Its rigidness stirred the juices of my honeypot.

“Sonnie.”

I was burning with desire. His hand cupped my pussy, rubbing against me to relieve the agonizing hankering I was experiencing inside out. He pushed my thong aside. Though embarrassingly small in comparison to my meatiness, it was still obstructing my entryway.

“It’s coming, baby,” he assured me as he replaced his hand with his missile.

His launch into my stratosphere sent me reeling. I relaxed against him.

This is mine. He is mine.

Thoughts of my ability to be selfish with Sonnie aided my sanity.

I hoisted both feet on the seat, each on the side of his frame. Slowly, I lifted until the opening of my canal met the tip of his dick and then lowered my body down onto him, again. With each stroke, I quickened my pace until I was steady on my toes and the perfect amount of friction was produced.

“Fuck.”

Psalms gripped my chin and brought my mouth to his, again. His tongue parted my lips and swirled around one cheek after the other.

Fuck,” he repeated.

“Ughhhhhhh,” I groaned.

Instant gratification was the cause of my premature peaking. Tingling began to creep upward from my toes. It rested where the tip of Psalms’ tool met my uterus.

“I’m gonna cum– Uhhhh,” I rushed out in a sharp whisper. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Please do,” he pled, finding the strength to hold onto my hips.

The assistance was greatly appreciated.

My legs grew weak. My head began spinning. My center collapsed. And, everything around me blackened. Small flickers of light from the starry sky behind my eyelids marked my location. Psalms had catapulted me to another world. Another stratosphere.

I clung to his body, pushing my shoulders forward as I withered like moldy flowers. His grip tightened. His climax stiffened him, causing him to grow rigid against me.

“Argh,” he groaned, lowly.

With each passing second, he softened.

“Gazelle.”

His whisper was grounding. I was rooted. Complacent. Unable to move. Barely able to speak. He’d anchored me.

“I don’t want to move,” I admitted, barely audible.

“You don’t have to,” Sonnie assured me.

He palmed the back of my head and lowered it onto his shoulder. Drowning in the abundance of emotions while simultaneously accepting my fate, I began to drift into an orgasm-induced slumber.

“Gazelle.”

Sonnie’s kisses were gentle. Delicate. Strategically placed.

“Gazelle.”

His whispers were enough to keep me from gaining consciousness. I found it hard to resurface after the impact of his father’s presence, the realization of what was happening to my heart, and the overwhelming feeling our reunion provided.

“Gazelle.”

“Hm?” I stirred.

“Wake up, baby. We have arrived.”

My nostrils flared instantly. The familiar smell of nature was overbearing.

More trees.

More snow.

And, burning wood.

Cedar. Cypress. Redwoods. Spruce… Hemlocks .

I flexed my nostrils, quickly changing my interest. The vegetation of the area was next on my classification list.

Yarrow. Moss. Alpine. Penstemons .

“Sonnie.”

“Yes?” He responded, hurriedly.

“This isn’t your home.”

“It isn’t.”

Finally, I opened my eyes. My head separated from his shoulder blade.

The Enclave .

The incredibly beautiful portion of the mountains were privately owned. I’d visited as a child with Richie for family adventures that we hardly participated in. Our goal each time we touched the mountain side was to sharpen my aim, instincts, and reaction.

He opened the door and slid me down from his lap. Carefully, Sonnie adjusted my clothing to his liking. Silently, I examined the white sheets of snow that glistened in the dark as he gathered my newest gift and himself as well.

When his hand looped in mine, we began trekking through the inches of fluffiness, hand-in-hand. Silently, we stepped onto the porch that wrapped around the entire property. My hand slipped from Sonnie’s grasp as we neared the front door.

The steel of my Beretta caressed my fingertips. I eased it from the holster underneath my dress. As Sonnie made his way into the house with his weapon drawn, I monitored the surrounding area with my finger on the trigger–ready to shoot anything that moved. Even Clyde .

“He’s good, Gazelle,” Psalms promised, looping his arm around my waist.

He pulled me into the house behind him.

“He knows where we’re laying our heads tonight.”

“I know where he lay his head every night. Where his children lay their heads. How many cups of dry food they feed their dog twice a day. Which stuffy is his daughter’s favorite. And the brand of skincare his wife coats her skin with every morning and night. Clyde is good.”

I lowered my weapon before turning to face Sonnie. His cologne was overpowering. Overwhelmingly good. And, agonizingly close.

My arms slid around his neck. A steady breath escaped my lips. Comfort eased my mind. Loosened my limbs. Provided me with the security that only two people in the world had ever managed to give me.

“Evening, Gazelle.”

As if we hadn’t made the drive near the peaks of the mountains and his semen hadn’t filled me in the midst of our journey, I entertained him.

“Good evening, Mr. Santoro.”

His tongue swiped his lips as he shook his head. His cheeks swelled as a chuckle evaded mouth. Effortlessly, he demanded my full attention.

“My father–” he paused, “I know tonight was supposed to be date night for us but he’d said something days after our first encounter. Those words stuck with me. And, I figured that since I’ve given him absolutely nothing he asked of me as we drove those four hours to campus that day I could at least give him that.”

“What’s that?”

“The chance to meet you.”

“I enjoyed him. He misses you. Dearly. He says he’s proud of you, Psalms. He’s proud of who you’ve become.”

“A monster?” He clicked his tongue and let out a low chuckle.

This time it wasn’t giddy. He wasn’t smiling. And his nose wasn’t kissing the air.

“Whoever you’ve become–” I finished as I took his chin into my hand. “Whatever you’ve become.”

“Gaze–”

“God makes no mistakes. The work we do doesn’t make us saints, but it doesn’t make us monsters either. And if it does, then I wear the title proudly. As should you. Every man’s life I’ve taken deserved it one way or another. They’re dark dirty secrets are the reason they're in the ground.

“It’s hardly because they owe money, have crossed someone, or have sent someone to prison. It’s because the world is a better place without them. God is the judge, Sonnie. He decides their fate.

“When death is their sentence, He expects us to carry out the term. And, if not Him, then someone. I have a hard time believing anyone else is capable of maintaining order so long and so seamlessly. Everyone has a role on earth, Sonnie. This is ours.”

He pulled me in, wrapping me up in his bliss. His lips sealed mine.

“We’re taught, in our profession, to not look forward to the future. To not be optimistic. To devote our attention to the moment. Not the next week or the next month or the next year. And, until I saw you that night in early October, I’d followed the code.

“But, when you stood outside of my car with your arms folded underneath your bosom, my future flashed before my eyes. Finally, I could see things far beyond my comprehension. Hearing you speak this way… Seeing you look this way… Feeling you soften this way… makes it all make sense.”

I nodded, agreeing with every word he said. He’d carved a new path for me. While I didn’t understand where we were headed, I wasn’t opposed to the idea of uncertainty.

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas since I was eighteen.”

I celebrated each year up until my father’s death. Since, every holiday felt like a sick dream. My family didn’t gather. Our home wasn’t full of joy. Shopping wasn’t an all-day event.

Decorations didn’t drive me mad. And, my siblings didn’t make me want to lodge a bullet in their limbs. Not anymore . Not for Halloween. Not for Thanksgiving. Not for Christmas. And, not for the new year.

“But, you’ve changed that.”

Psalms took my right hand into his. He led me out of the foyer and closer to the crackling wood. I rounded the corner to find red bows lining the fireplace. Two stockings hung from the mantle above it.

Beside the large row of windows was a twelve-foot Christmas tree dressed in black velvet ribbon, large black ornaments, and a single black star that glistened at the very top. Around the massive beauty were neatly wrapped gifts. The black sparkly paper correlated with the decorations. Everything was seamless.

“Sonnie, it’s beautiful.”

“Reminds me of someone I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know over the last couple of months.”

“I– I was unsure if we were celebrating. I didn’t bring a gift.”

It was at my home, underneath my bed as I awaited the verdict. Because Sonnie hadn’t mentioned the holiday, neither did I. In the event things changed, I wanted to be prepared. To my disadvantage, I hadn’t brought it to dinner so he wouldn’t be receiving anything until the holiday had passed.

Anguish consumed me. I gnawed on my bottom lip, considering how many ways I could rectify the situation. There were gifts spilling from underneath the tree. Something had to be done about the lack of reciprocation on my end.

“Don’t you get it, love?” Psalms asked, matching my gaze. “You are the gift. One that keeps giving each and every fucking day. There isn’t anything you can buy me, Rugger, that could compare.

“Your presence is worth more than any purchase I’ve made, wrapped, and put under that tree. I just want to contribute to your collection of things your man has gotten you. You know, give you a reason to think about me every time you put one of those bags on your shoulders. One of those coats on your back.

“One of those weapons in your hands. One of those holsters around your thigh. A pair of those shoes on your feet. I’ve entered my season of giving. I need nothing in return but your presence so I can give good dick, good head, good money, good advice, good food, good experiences, good gifts, and many good years to come. You understand?”

Silently, I nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.”

The word flowed from me so effortlessly.

“Good then. In the first room to the left of the stairs there are pajamas and slippers waiting for you. Have a shower and I’ll do the same. Meet me back here in twenty minutes. We have a long night ahead of us,” he explained.

I turned, ready to slip out of my dress and into something comfortable. Before I made it five feet down the hallway, I stopped and found Psalms’ eyes fixated on me.

“Yes, Gazelle?”

I bit into my bottom lip as my cheeks warmed. I intertwined my fingers in front of me.

“Rugger–”

“Are yours like mine?”

He sniggered. The young teen boy that Sonnie hadn’t gotten a chance to be was staring back at me. The tips of his ears reddened as a hand went up to his mouth.

“As a matter of fact, they are,” he confessed, “That shit corny, huh?”

I shook my head as the same goofy smile plastered on his face appeared on mine.

“No. No, it’s not,” I assured him.

When I began in the opposite direction, again, his voice halted my stride.

“Gazelle,” he called out to me.

“Yes.”

I turned to face him, again.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I continued toward the staircase. The heaviness of my heart made each step I took more difficult than the last. When I finally made it up, I pushed the door of the first room open and didn’t stop walking until I reached the bed. I sat, staring at the phone that had replaced my gun.

My mother’s pretty features haunted me. It had been far too long since I’d heard her voice or felt her touch. I missed her as much as nocturnal creatures did the moon during the sunlight.

I rubbed my index finger across the screen and began searching through the few contacts on my list. When her name appeared, my brief scroll came to a halt. I pressed the screen and initiated a call.

It didn’t matter to me that the differences in time meant she was sleeping or that I was waking her. I needed to hear her voice. To absorb her energy. To digest her wisdom.

The phone rang once. Then, twice. By the third ring there was silence on the other line.

“Hello,” groggily, she answered. “Rugger, is everything okay?”

The words I needed to say. The words I wanted to say. The words that were practical. None of them surfaced.

“Rugs?”

“Yes,” shakily, I responded.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Everything feels– feels right.”

There was movement on the other end. After a few seconds, it all settled. Her voice appeared again, welcoming every emotion I felt at once.

“What’s his name?”

I released a stream of air as I wiped the lone tear that fell from my eyes. Why I was hurting so good, I’d never understand.

“Psalms.”

Silence toyed with the line.

“Listen to me well, Rugger.”

I nodded as if she could see me.

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to open your heart, baby. Not mine. Not Richie’s. Not Chemistry’s. Not any of the girls. I’ve waited. I’ve waited for this day— the day that not even the guns could protect your heart because something far more powerful is after it.

“You’re no fragile being. You’re solid. You’re hyper-independent. You’re a leader. You’re an alpha-woman. You don’t wait for things to happen for you or to you. You make things happen. You move mountains. You part seas. And, the world respects you because of it. But, baby, there comes a time– a time when a man enters a woman’s world and quickly asserts himself, letting her know that she can relax.

“She can trade her solidness for softness. Her independence for dependency. Her leadership for submission. That man will switch her survival mode to the subtle mode so she can do less, speak less, know less, work less, think less, and be less than she’s been for everything and anything else.

“So she can be more to him, more for him because that’s all he truly needs from her. He needs her to show up whole and not beaten up by the world and all else that comes with being a woman.

“Your time has come, Rugger. And, it doesn’t matter how much you fight it, you won’t win this one. You can’t shoot this one. You can’t kill this one. It doesn’t matter how well you’re trained or how good your instincts are. Bow out gracefully, baby, and allow Psalms to be everything he was born to be for you.”

Her words soaked my soul. My heart raged in my chest.

Bow out gracefully .

I’d never bowed out or even considered that degree of disappointment. But, this was different. I was different. He was different. And, if I was going to bow out, gracefully was how I’d proceed.

“I met his father,” I revealed, placing my forehead in my hands as my reality began to truly sink in.

“How was he?” She asked, yawning.

“ Sad – Aggrieved. There’s a lack of resentment but an abundance of pain. It’s in his eyes, his smile, the lines that crease his forehead, his laugh, and his stride. He’s lonely, but still a father that loves his child, nonetheless.”

“Don’t let too much time pass before he meets yours.”

St. Catana was where Richie was laid to rest. Visiting the island meant visiting him. Visiting him meant visiting her. And Chem and the rest of the family. I understood exactly what she was hinting at.

“I won’t.”

“Merry Christmas, Rugs. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I ended the call and rested the phone on the bed beside the black pajama set that was decorated with red and white candy canes. I felt lighter. The hollowing feeling in the pit of my stomach was slowly dissolving.

I had quickly been reminded why my father had chosen my mother as his partner in this lifetime. Psalms had chosen me and I only hoped I could live up to whatever version of me he was aiming to produce.

Definitely corny. I chuckled, picking up the pajamas and heading into the bathroom.