Page 104 of Ballistic

“You always park in the next lot? ‘Cause I’ll tell ya, shit ain’t safe in Detroit. Not this area, anyway. Never know who you might run into.”

“I don’t want any trouble. Please. I have a family.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking sick that is? You have a fucking family, and you’re out here looking to pick up a kid to stroke your dick?” I strode toward him with both hands on the gun, one holding back my trigger finger, which twitched with the urge to end the pathetic little cunt in a single shot. “I should just blow your fucking head off right here and spare your family.”

“Please!” He knelt down to the pavement and clasped his fingers together behind his head, sobbing. “I’m begging you. I’ve never done this before.”

“You know how many times I’ve heard that, asshole?”

“It’s true. I … I came here to tell Jackson … you, I changed my mind.”

“Bullshit! You came here to fuck a kid! Admit it, you piece of shit!”

“No! It’s true. I was … I know what it’s like. I know how it feels. I was … I was hurt by someone, too. As a child. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong!”

“Yeah? So ,why the fuck would you turn around and do it to someone else? Doesn’t add up, fucktard.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be like this. I would never hurt a child, please. I give you my word.”

“You know what your word means to me? Dick. Your word means dick to me.” I racked the chamber of the gun and pressed it into the top of his head. A pool of wetness circled out from beneath him, spreading wider by the second, as he pissed himself.

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins in taunting waves, begging me to pull the trigger. After all, he’d groomed me for weeks. Telling me how cute I was in the pictures. How much he loved talking to me.

“I’m begging you. Give me a chance. I will not touch a child so long as I live.”

I didn’t want to give him a chance. I wanted mete out justice for every kid who’d act as a temptation for him throughout life. I wanted him to fight me on it, too. To defend his actions and give me a piss poor excuse for why he did it. Tell me he was wrong for taking me somewhere and bastardizing my innocence. Tell me he’d keep it a secret, so long as I could. That if my friends and family found out what he did to me, they’d call me gay and claim that I liked it.

Instead, he kept his head down whispering apologies.

I’d lost it. Fucking lost my mind. Spiraling into a black hole.

I needed my Nicoleta. Every day without her was hell, every night a battle of wills between my body and my brain.

I needed her. Was fucking lost—a man without purpose, which made me twice as dangerous as before I’d ever laid eyes on her.

I lifted the gun from his head and rubbed a hand down my damp face. Middle of autumn, and I stood there sweating like a pig. “I ever see your ugly face again and I swear to you, I will blow it off your skull. Clear?”

“Clear. Clear, I swear to you. You won’t see my face again.” He lifted his gaze to mine, hands clasped together. “Thank you. Thank you for this. I won’t forget. I promise you.” Scrambling backward, he tripped and stumbled his way to the silver Audi, and I stood there, watching him drive away.

Maybe he’d keep his promise. Maybe he’d learned a lesson, just like that therapist had once told me, and I’d never stumble upon the asshole again.

Maybe he wouldn’t, though, and I might’ve just thrown away the opportunity to save some poor kid’s life.

Did it matter? Did any of it matter?

I couldn’t even save myself.

* * *

I stared down at the two green pills in the palm of my hand. My one-way ticket to hell. Was inevitable I’d end up back in the same place. I knew the moment I’d pulled her out of that shithole storage unit, I’d never want to let her go, so how did that make me any different from the men who’d kept her physically chained? Like the asshole I’d almost killed earlier in the night.

All of us victims preying on victims.

I’d told myself I’d fallen in love with her, but maybe that was the case with all predators. Flirting with tragedy. The wolf who fell in love with the lamb.

It had been her choice to leave, and no matter how much it killed me, I had to respect that. Had to back down and let her live her life—freely.

I raised my hand to pop the pills, but, at the rattle of my phone, paused midway to my mouth.