Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

25

Jayce

I didn’t feel comfortable with the situation until Charlotte was gone. With her nearby, she could quickly become an innocent bystander. With her out of the bar, only my life was in danger.

I could deal with that.

“Flop?” I called again. “Need some help, pal.”

“I’m comin’!” He emerged from the kitchen a moment later with a thin length of wire.

“That looks like the string used to tie a sack of potatoes,” I grumbled.

“That’s exactly what it is!” Flop snapped. “I don’t got anything better, so it’s this or nothin’.”

“Y’all will regret this,” Carl said with a raspy laugh. The cigarette fell out of his mouth. “Damnit.”

“Keep your hands in the air!” I ordered, but he was already bending down to grab the cigarette.

I didn’t want to kill him. That was my mistake. I should’ve pulled the trigger the moment he reached.

Carl pretended to bend down, then lurched upward with shocking speed. He pushed the barrel of the shotgun aside and then twisted, wrenching it free from my grasp and knocking it aside.

“Shit!” Flop shouted, and ran back into the kitchen.

I swung a fist in a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand, but Carl was quicker than I expected and leaned back to dodge the blow. As he slid sideways he reached out and snatched his switchblade from the counter, slashing it across my body and almost spilling my guts on the floor.

I backed up, putting some space between us, and he came onward, knife extended like this was a goddamn fencing match. I jumped back with each of his thrusts, painfully aware of how close each one came. I was running out of room, and moving farther and farther from my shotgun.

“Sid’ll be pissed if you kill me,” I taunted. “He wants me for himself.”

Carl sneered. “Maybe I’ll just—”

It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked. As he responded, I threw my weight into him, shoving the arm with the knife aside and getting in close. I head-butted him in the forehead, which might have hurt me as much as it hurt him, but it did the trick of disorienting him enough for me to punch the knife out of his hand and tackle him to the floor.

I tried to stay on top of him but he rolled sideways, kicking his knee up into my balls. The pain was so intense I almost vomited. I grunted and fell over, grabbing at him in a desperate attempt to keep him from getting on top of me.

Flop returned from the kitchen with his own weapon, an old assault rifle from the war. I was vaguely aware of him aiming it, but we were moving around too much for him to take the shot. At least I hoped he wouldn’t try to take the shot. The bullet from that rifle would go right through Carl and into me.

Carl succeeded in climbing on top of me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my head back, flashing my vision white and disorienting me. “Fuck. You. Copperhead. Traitor,” he said with each slam.

Suddenly Carl grunted. He blinked and fell sideways off me, groaning as if he’d been shot. Flop held his assault rifle backwards, having just hit Carl with the butt of the gun.

I sat up and reached for my shotgun. “About time you helped.”

Flop flipped his rifle around and made an offended noise. “That’s the thanks I get?”

“Thanks, Flop.”

“Ought to give me more than just your appreciation,” he grumbled sourly. “You know what Sid’ll do if he knows I helped you? Gonna peel my toenails off one at a time…”

I retrieved Carl’s switchblade and put it in my back pocket, then used the potato sack string to bind the Copperhead’s hands behind his back. It did a surprisingly good job, at least for now.

Flop and I dragged Carl into the dry pantry in the back of the kitchen. “Had to go bringing trouble into my bar,” Flop’s wife grumbled.

“Your bar?” Flop shot back. “Whose name is on the goddamn sign, woman?”

She rolled her eyes. “You think the man who owns McDonald’s is named McDonald? Name don’t mean shit.”

“It ain’t owned by one guy, stupid. It’s got shareholders.”

“Hey Flop,” I interrupted. “You know your buddy down in Jacksonville? The one who helped us that one time, with the thing?”

He got a faraway look in his eye. “Sure do. You think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m open to suggestions. But that seems like the best plan right now.”

“Gonna need transport down there,” Flop said.

“Leave that to me,” I replied.

“Why don’t you tell him the story about getting shot down in Vietnam,” his wife suggested. “He’ll hang himself on the doorknob to avoid hearing that again.”

“Sandra, will you shut it already!”

My mind raced. It wasn’t the first time I’d stared down a psycho with a switchblade, but being used to it didn’t make me any calmer. Having someone try to kill you had an effect on a man. I took a few deep breaths to allow the adrenaline to slowly dissipate.

I needed to contact a buddy of mine to take care of Carl, but he switched out phone numbers every couple of weeks, so I’d have to email him first. We also needed something better than potato sack string if we were going to keep Carl here all night.

“Watch him,” I said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where’s he going?” Flop’s ex-wife asked.

He rounded on her. “Why don’t you ask him that!”

“He’s your friend!”

The wind was picking up outside, shaking the trees back and forth and scurrying leaves across the parking lot, but the rain hadn’t begun. Judging by the low clouds and the smell in the air, it was only minutes away. Just what we need on a shitty night, I thought as I approached my truck.

Charlotte wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I breathed a sigh of relief that she’d listened. Hopefully she was locked away in her motel room by now. I reached for my phone to tell her to turn all her lights out just to be safe, but then put it away. Better get home first before the sky opened up.

The drive home gave me plenty of time to think about how fucking stupid I was.

“Lay fucking low,” I growled to myself. “All I had to do was avoid anything that would connect Charlotte to me. So what does my stupid ass do? Hug her in the cemetery, and then attack a goddamn Copperhead in a bar. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m an idiot.”

I replayed the events of the bar in my head. I didn’t remember deciding to retrieve my shotgun. Carl started talking to her at the bar with that look in his eye, and that tone in his voice, and then I was on my feet and getting my shotgun out of the truck before I could register what I was even doing.

The worst part? I didn’t really regret it. It felt right at the time, and it still felt right now, even if the repercussions sucked ass.

I have to protect her.

It was an animal instinct, deep down in my chest. Emotion rather than thought. I had to protect Charlotte, no matter the circumstances. Even if it meant making things worse for myself in the long run.

That didn’t stop me from berating myself about it all the way home, though.

“Stupid fucking idiot,” I shouted, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. “I can’t let anyone near me. I’m radio-fucking-active. I can’t flirt with her. I can’t text her. I can’t fucking fall for her.”

The words shocked me, but as soon as they were out of my mouth I knew they were true. I was falling for Charlotte. I’d been falling for her ever since she walked into that jail in a dress and heels. I couldn’t help myself. She was everything I’d ever wanted.

I can’t have her.

It was a fact that was as true as anything else in this world. No matter how much I wanted Charlotte, being with her would be the same as sentencing her to death. Hell, we were in this mess tonight because I’d let my guard down long enough for her to hug me in the cemetery.

We could never do more than that. Even the sexy texts we’d been exchanging were too dangerous. If Sid showed up one day and took my phone…

I gripped the steering wheel tighter and forced myself to relax. First the muscles in my jaw, then neck, then arms. Soon I was breathing normally and could think straight.

All right, the situation.

Carl had seen us in the cemetery. But instead of going to Sid with the information, he tried to extort Charlotte. Thank fucking God he thought with his dick, not his brain. He probably hadn’t told any other Copperheads, or else he would’ve brought them with him tonight. Either for backup, or because they all wanted a piece of Charlotte.

My anger flared up at that thought. I pushed it back down.

Even though he probably hadn’t told anyone else, I needed to be certain. I still had contacts in the Copperheads I could trust. That I thought I could trust, at least.

I’d risk contacting them to keep Charlotte safe.

And then it was just a matter of dealing with Carl himself. Not easy, but doable once we got the ball rolling on a few things. Flop’s buddy in Jacksonville would need to come through, as well as my transport contact to get him there. And we would need to hold Carl until then and hope none of the other Copperheads knew where he had gone. We’d have to stash his bike, too. I should have done that before leaving Flop’s. Stupid.

Despite those setbacks, I breathed a little easier after thinking it all out. There was still a chance to pour the spilled beer back into the bottle.

It started raining just as I pulled up my driveway, fat drops which pelted the top of my truck. I parked and pulled out my phone to tell Flop to move Carl’s bike, but then I found myself texting Charlotte instead.

Jayce: Turn off all the lights in your motel room and close the curtains. Just to be safe. I’ll touch base in the morning. Might have to skip community service.

I hopped out of the truck with my shotgun. Once I knew she was safe, I could focus on everything else I had to do. Calling my contact, gathering supplies…

Before I could dart inside, a ding sound came from the bed of my truck, followed by a rustling sound. A shape moved, climbing out of the bed of the truck in the darkness.

They followed me.

I raised my shotgun and pushed it up under the chin of the person who had followed me, ready to kill if it meant saving my own life tonight.

Thank God I didn’t pull the trigger.