Gator Read online

  Gator

  A Bullet Romance

  by

  Bijou Hunter

  Copyright ©2014 Bijou Hunter

  Kindle Edition

  Dedication

  Mustang Sally for believing in me

  Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, & Roo for owning my heart and treating it right

  Candy Girl Miranda for always having my back

  Saucy Sarah and Hardcore Patty for sharing their special insights

  More Bijou Hunter Books

  Damaged and the Beast

  Damaged and the Knight

  Damaged and the Cobra

  Damaged and the Outlaw

  *****

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  1 Spent Shell

  2 Spent Shells

  3 Spent Shells

  4 Spent Shells

  5 Spent Shells

  6 Spent Shells

  7 Spent Shells

  8 Spent Shells

  9 Spent Shells

  10 Spent Shells

  11 Spent Shells

  12 Spent Shells

  13 Spent Shells

  14 Spent Shells

  15 Spent Shells

  16 Spent Shells

  17 Spent Shells

  18 Spent Shells

  19 Spent Shells

  20 Spent Shells

  21 Spent Shells

  22 Spent Shells

  23 Spent Shells

  24 Spent Shells

  25 Spent Shells

  26 Spent Shells

  27 Spent Shells

  28 Spent Shells

  29 Spent Shells

  30 Spent Shells

  About Bijou

  1 Spent Shell

  Gator

  The city suffocates me. Too much grey. Too many people. The place smells of a graveyard filled with those who don’t know they’re dead. I hate the city.

  Money lures me to this place and I need the extra cash. Paradise doesn’t come cheap.

  Carz is a guy I know from my first years as a killer. He’s a freak with a love of cars and women. He thinks he’s funny too. Others laugh at his unfunny jokes, but I don’t pretend. A man willing to kill over a misunderstanding doesn’t fake anything.

  My face will make a grown man piss himself. While my mother was a delicate Hawaiian flower, her family is filled with large warrior men. The story goes my grandfather was a Mexican wrestler vacationing on the islands. He enjoyed the weather, surf, and my lei wearing grandmother. After he savored what Hawaii had to offer, he left and never returned. I’m a warrior like my ancestors, big and imposing, and I use my size to terrify my enemies.

  This time around, Carz gives me an easy job. A list of losers already dead and just waiting for the bullet to make it official. The first two provide easy targets. Only a man as fucked up as me could fuck up such a simple assignment.

  Logic isn’t something I ever gave any mind. I don’t care about laws or morals. My life and needs are paramount. And I want her.

  A day rarely passes when I don’t work for or kill gutter trash. Paul Douthit is that kind of garbage. A life wasted on booze, drugs, cheap women, and crime. He deserves a bullet between the eyes, even if Carz hadn’t gotten spooked about someone snitching him out. Paul is the first name on a list of five marked for death. When I got the job, I never figured I’d have a problem with offing any of them. They’re losers wasting air and dirtying everything they touch.

  I want her though and she’s on the list too.

  Carz says she’s Paul’s daughter. A whore. Trash like her old man. Kill them both and send proof of death. I’ve done it plenty of times before. Men in my work called themselves ghosts, cleaners, and assassins. I used to think I was a garbage man, but now I view myself as an exterminator. I destroy vermin. As a boy, I hunted rats around the swamp. As a man, I hunt parasites in the ugliest parts in the ugliest cities.

  This girl isn’t a cockroach like her dad. I don’t know how I know. Something in her eyes as she stares at traffic while Paul fumbles around for cigarettes intrigues me. They stand in the open, unconcerned in a way that proves Carz is being paranoid. No way does Paul plan to rat him out, but I’m getting paid for the bullet, not to give Carz my opinions.

  Blonde hair dirty at the ends and oily at the roots, the girl looks trashy. She is wearing a jeans skirt that is both too big and too tight. I can see her legs are pale except for the bruises. I know how she makes money for her dad. I understand the dullness in her expression comes from a lifetime of beatings, rapes, and neglect. She doesn’t live outside her head. I knew this all from her blank stare. Anyone else might have seen a waste of space like Paul, but I know better.

  As I watch her through the scope of my rifle, I see a glimmer of life in her blue eyes. A whiny kid yanking on his disinterested mother’s jacket waddles past her and she awakens and smiles. She’s alive enough to save. I decide then I’m keeping her.

  2 Spent Shells

  Gator

  They call me Gator because of the accent I can’t lose even after so many years out of the swamp. Killers need a handle like that. I don’t know who came up with the rule, but it was around when I took my first job. People don’t want to hire Ken or Pete. They want to hire Reaper or Ghost. I wasn’t those guys. I was just Gator.

  I don’t kill with finesse. I never saw the reason to be pretty about it. Nothing about me is fancy. Killing can be about a soft touch or it might be a hard punch. A guy my size doesn’t do soft well. The guy ends up dead either way and I get paid. Hard punch is my preferred way.

  Carz pays well enough. Not top of the line pay, but his enemies are nobodies. Street scum like this guy and his daughter.

  Carz said the girl’s name was Idget Gidget. She was a dummy, he claimed, but gave great head. I hadn’t cared when he told me that in his ugly red office. Now seeing her, I care. I didn’t like people talking shit about what is mine.

  When I order up a date with Gidget, I request her daddy come along. The fucker giggles at the idea of watching. Killing him will make me very happy.

  Waiting in the motel room, I’m restless. This girl is a stranger, but she’s mine now. A gift to myself. I’ve wanted someone for a while that wasn’t a quick fuck. I wanted something more and she is it. No real thinking about who she is and why I want her. She’s just mine and that’s it.

  As I wait in the motel room, I know I’m not thinking straight. I’m primal. The predator seeing his prey. Or the man catching sight of his woman.

  At that moment, I don’t care what she’s like. I don’t give a shit if she has a squeaky voice or snores or thinks stupid shit is funny. I just want her eyes on me. I want her to smile at me. I want her fingers on my skin. I want to taste her lips and know how my cock feels inside her. Nothing hearts and flowers about it. Nothing intelligent or rational. She’s mine and I’m taking her.

  Paul knocks at the door twice before I answer. I’m nervous, I guess. Afraid the girl will disappoint. How can she? I expect her to be beautiful and she is. Based on Carz’s description, I expect her to be dumb and agreeable. I figure the second quality might lessen after I kill her pimp daddy.

  “Hey, are you Sam?” Paul asks, running his hand through dirty blond hair. “Is this the right room?

  Giving him a nod, I open the door wider. Paul smirks at me and I want to kill him slowly. I don’t like how my woman was forced to look at that shitty face all her life.

  Paul hesitates a little before entering. At six four, I loom over his scrawny build. He’s also a redneck and anyone a shade over pale freaks him out. In his
ignorant eyes, I must look like a fucking monster. A wild beast from some faraway country he can’t spell, let alone find on a map. Yeah, he’s scared of me, but he wants my money more.

  Paul grunts for Gidget to enter the room and she wanders after him. Wander is the right word. Like a kid with no clue where she is or what’s happening, she stands like a lump next to him.

  “Whatcha want to do first?” Paul asks.

  “She have a name?” I mutter, taking in how blue her eyes are behind the clumpy mascara.

  “Gidget.”

  When her father says her name, she looks at him like a dog might respond to a familiar word. She’s no more than a clueless animal.

  “You put that on a birth certificate?” I ask, reaching out to touch her cheek.

  I figure she’ll flinch. Even flirty women flinch around me. My scarred face and big hands make girls twitchy. Gidget just stares at me though. Carz wasn’t wrong when he said she’s dumb.

  “You can call her anything you want,” Paul says. “She’s real obedient.”

  “Is she slow?”

  “In the head? Sure. She understands enough. She’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Was she born slow?” I ask, lifting her chin to force her gaze on me.

  Gidget stares blankly. I wonder if she’s doped up, but her eyes are pretty clear and I don’t think she’s taking anything.

  “Naw, man. Why all the questions?”

  “I don’t fuck defective girls. Does she even understand what’s happening?”

  “Oh, she understands,” Paul mutters, smacking her ass. “She just lost oxygen to her brain for a while and it made her dumb. No harm. She can still do the important stuff.”

  “Lost oxygen?”

  “Guy got a little rough and choked her too long,” he says, pulling at her messy ponytail. “Look, man, she knows what’s happening. She just doesn’t care. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  Grabbing Paul, I remove the shitty little pistol from the back of his jeans. He struggles, but the guy is all skin and bones except for his gut. Once I take his phone, I shove him away from me.

  “What the hell?” he grunts, trying to sound tough. “You gonna rob us? We don’t carry much cash, man.”

  “You know Carz?” I ask, holding my Glock on him.

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

  “He paid me to kill you two.”

  Paul’s eyes widen, but I don’t think he really gets it. “What the fuck for?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  Gidget looks at her father who’s cussing under his breath. She seems unbothered and returns to staring at the door.

  “I can pay you more,” Paul says after a little more cussing.

  “No, you can’t.”

  “You can have Gidget. Do what you want with her. Pimp her out. She’ll make you enough to pay our debt.”

  “I’m already taking her.”

  Once I say those words, Paul gets the bright idea to hide behind his kid. He’s a coward to the very end and I shoot him in the face before he manages to duck behind her.

  After he flops on the ground, Gidget stares at him for a moment then looks at me with big frightened eyes.

  “Daddy dead,” she mumbles, sounding like a child.

  “He was a piece of shit. You know he was.”

  Gidget looks back at her father then shudders. Thinking she might start crying or screaming, I take her by the shoulders and force her gaze on me. “Carz wants you dead too. You get that, don’t you?”

  When she only stares, I cup her face. “You’re mine now. If you’re not mine, I have to kill you. Do you understand?”

  Gidget’s eyes study my face and I sense she’s still confused. Finally, she nods.

  “Say it.”

  She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t think she understands.

  “Say you’re mine,” I demand too strongly, but she doesn’t flinch.

  “You’re mine.”

  “Close enough,” I sigh, releasing her slowly so my fingertips enjoy the softness of her pale skin. “I need to make it look like you’re both dead. Lie down next to your shit father and play dead, so I can take a picture.”

  Gidget shuffles to where her dad flopped and joins him on the ground. The blood splatter across the right side of her makes the girl look hurt too. Once she rests in an awkward position next to him and closes her eyes, I take a few pictures then send them to Carz.

  “Get up,” I tell her and she sits up.

  I watch her stare at her father then she pats his chest.

  “Bye-bye, Daddy.”

  Standing over her, I don’t know what the fuck to do. She’s a kid. Damaged in the head. While I was a monster in a lot of ways, raping little girls wasn’t part of my evil. Her body is grown up, but I didn’t know if her brain ever will be.

  When she finally stands next to me, I hear her tell her daddy bye-bye again. The sound of her voice makes me shudder. I want her, but can’t have her. Giving her up isn’t an option either. She’s mine.

  “I have clothes for you,” I say, lifting the bag. “While you wash up and change, I’ll get rid of the body.”

  I take her by the jaw and force her gaze on me. “You will not run. You will not scream. You will not call for help. You are mine. If you’re not mine, you’re dead. Do you understand?”

  As Gidget nods, I see the realization of her father’s death is finally hitting her. She will cry soon and I don’t want to see it.

  “I got you shampoo and conditioner,” I say, pushing the bag towards her. “Soap too. Wash really good. Get that blood out of your hair. Clean up and put on the clothes I got you.”

  Taking the bag, Gidget wanders towards the bathroom door, glancing around like she’s lost. Before I need to go over my instructions again, she turns on the shower and I see her undressing. My gaze lingers on the sight of her bare back. The skin looks smooth and I sense she’s cold. I can think of many ways to warm her, yet none of them are possible if she thinks like a child.

  Her pimp daddy is easy to jam into a big duffle bag. A few bones need breaking to make him fit, but I’m soon carrying him to his nearby crappy car. Returning to the room, I hear the shower still running.

  Bleach, lye, and a special concoction I stumbled upon back in New Orleans makes a mess out of the evidence left behind by Paul, Gidget, and me. Not that I expect the police to care much about a dead thug.

  After the shower, Gidget is dressed in the grey sweat pants and a pink tee. Picking her shoe size was trickier, so she’s wearing sandals. I lead her out of the room then return to turn on all the faucets. In a short while, the room will flood and destroy even more evidence. I’m feeling overly paranoid today.

  Back outside, Gidget stares at her dad’s piece of shit car. I take her by the elbow and move towards one of the SUVs I rented for this job. She doesn’t struggle, but I sense she wants to go to the car.

  “You’re coming with me,” I say, controlling my temper.

  Gidget stares up at me and I see something in her eyes. When she makes no attempt to explain, I guess.

  “Is there something you want in the car?”

  Gidget’s panicked eyes soften and she nods. There’s even a hint of a smile on her lips. We walk to the car and I open it with dead Paul’s keys. Gidget leans in and I wonder if she’ll return with a weapon. Is the dimwit not so dumb after all?

  Instead, Gidget steps back holding a baby doll along with a tiny blanket and bottle. She follows me to my SUV and straps herself in. She shows no fear, only acceptance.

  Starting the SUV, I sigh loudly and realize I’m screwed. Gidget is mine, but now I’m not sure what to do with her.

  3 Spent Shells

  Gator

  The next two hours are spent in an urgent care clinic. The blood clinic takes cash, asks no questions, and avoids the authorities. A place like this doesn’t care why Gidget has a bruise on her jaw or a swollen lower lip. They don’t even ask questions lik
e name, date of birth, and address.

  I sit in the waiting room without worrying about Gidget running off or telling the doctor anything she shouldn’t. I reminded her how she is dead or she is mine. Nothing in between.

  How much she understands is my main concern. Her shit dad said she’s brain damaged. Does that mean she’s essentially a child? I can’t fuck a little girl, even one in a woman’s body.

  No matter what’s wrong with her brain, I refuse to give her up. Even if she’s a child in her head, I can’t kill her and I won’t send her somewhere safe. She’s mine. I made the decision and I wasn’t changing my mind.

  After a long time, the doctor tells me she has anemia. Otherwise, she’s topnotch. Iron pills and she’ll be as good as new. I know the doctor thinks I’m the one who gave her the bruises. I’m uninterested in his misperceptions. People spend their whole lives misunderstanding me. I’m not in the mood to help them out.

  “Is she brain damaged?” I ask. “Can she make decisions like an adult?”

  The doctor shifts around, nervous to have me focusing on him. “She seems fine to me. Followed instructions. Compliant, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “No, dipshit, I want to know if she can consent. Is she a little kid up in the head? Her dad said she had a brain injury or some shit.”

  The doctor’s scared. I like seeing the fear in his buggy eyes and refuse to ease the ugly look I’m giving him. I rather enjoy when people shrink at the sight of me.

  “Without running a bunch of tests and having her evaluated, I can’t say if she’s brain damaged. I can say she seems competent. Slow doesn’t mean stupid.”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

  After I let the doctor hurry away, I wonder about Gidget. She said nothing on the drive. A few times I caught her caressing her new sweatpants. I figured she liked them. Might just like wearing something where her ass and tits weren’t hanging out.

  Gidget appears from the backroom. Her eyes are wide like a frightened child’s and she’s sucking a lollipop.