“You’ve done this before.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Si, and you clearly haven’t.”
“That’s the first time they’ve gotten out. So far only the sheep and chickens have been a problem.”
“You’ve been lucky then,” I quip.
“I have a feeling my luck is about to change.” Picking up his speed, he pushes his feet through the tall grass and doesn’t stop until we reach the pig pen. We drop all the babies inside with the rest, and he reassures himself the fence is working by using a detector from his jacket pocket. He’s careful to pull off the top of the fence before yanking the bottom out of the ground, almost as if he’s afraid of repeating a past experience.
I smile on the inside, wondering what it would have looked like to see him squirm at the surprise shock waves running through him.
“Will I be able to return to my work, or will you be disrupting it again? Are your chickens secured? Any hidden animals I should be expecting future visits from?”
“Animals must really like you. Maybe if you didn’t make your yard appear so appetizing they wouldn’t keep coming over.”
I roll my eyes. “Or maybe if you actually fed them on time, and enough, they’d have no reason to look elsewhere.”
“I’m not much of a morning person.” His face wrinkles. How can another man be so damn cute and get under my skin at the same time? He’s such a hopeless mess I can’t help but want to take him under my wing and guide him the right way while fucking him into the ground. My gaze drops to his luscious ass. I haven’t had a chance to get a good look until now, and once I have a full view, I’m finding it difficult to pull away. “Everyone’s a morning person when they have a good enough reason to be.”
His eyes blink a few times. “It would have to be a really good reason.”
“You never know, the right one could come along soon.” Leaning in only inches from his face, I pluck a strand of hay out of his hair and pull back right as his lips are about to brush over mine. “I’ll see you around, sheep boy.”
“My name is Patrick,” he calls out to me as I turn around and begin walking away.
Oddly fitting. Turning to face him, one side of my lips tilt. “I prefer sheep boy, and you should really be careful who you give your real name to.”
“What’s yours?”
Wetting my lips with my tongue, I rub my finger over the top of my gun. “It’s not always a good idea to know too much about others either.”
“It’s just a name.”
Yes, but sometimes that’s all someone needs to make someone else disappear. “And hell is just a song.” I continue moving in the direction of my house and I can feel his heavy stare on me the whole time. I like it way more than I should. He should be careful what he asks for with his body. If it becomes any more obvious, then I’ll feel too obliged to fulfill its request. Once I do, he may wish he’d never looked my way.
A light wind brushes the back of my neck and I’m thankful for the small break from the heat. The weather here is always so damn unpredictable, I never know how the fuck to dress. Since it’s a good day for a swim, I feel like I should take advantage of it while it lasts. I haven’t taken a dip in my pond in weeks, and I’d rather not dirty my tub if I don’t need to.
Entering my house, I close and lock the door before walking down to the basement. The heavy silence I’m met with by the time I reach the bottom is a lot better than the loud rattling and grunting taking over the room earlier. Stripping down to my underwear, I toss my clothes on a nearby table and only take my shoes off long enough to slip my jeans off my feet. “You made such a fucking mess in my house. More so than the last guy.”
Most people might find it weird to see me talking to a corpse, but I don’t view it as anything other than therapeutic. Grabbing a plastic tarp from a shelf, I roll it out on the ground and roll the lifeless body on top. Normally I would have done this before killing him, but I was caught off guard way too many times today, causing me to fuck up my whole process.
Hooking my fingers around the edges, I wrap the plastic around the body and collect some tape from where I got the tarp. I secure the tarp tightly around the man until I’m satisfied and then carry him up the stairs. The heavy weight causes my arms to ache, and I realize how easy my last jobs have been in comparison. I either made them look enough like an accident to not have to move them at all, or didn’t have to carry the target too far. Out of town jobs don't typically make it back home with me and my brother is probably thankful for the breaks he gets.
My shoes make a tapping sound against the blue tile as I carry the body through the utility room and to the garage. My trunk is already open from earlier when I made a grocery run into town, making it easier for me to toss the body inside, and a loud thud echoes around me as I slam the trunk closed. My stomach grumbles on the way back inside, and I ignore the slight distraction while stepping out the back door from the kitchen.
Trudging through the dirt, I glance around me to ensure no one is around as I kick off my shoes and slide down my underwear. The water is a mixture of warm and cool as I slowly step forward. As my body adjusts to the temperature, I sink myself fully into the water and close my eyes, along with my nose when I dunk my head underneath.
Water wraps around me as I continue to hold my breath, sinking lower to the ground. I quickly swim upward when something large rubs against me. Spinning around, I walk backwards in hopes of getting a better look at what the fuck might be trying to eat me. Not much scares me, but unknown living things moving under the water I’m swimming in are enough to have my ass on high alert. I’ve seenLake Placid,The Shape of Water, andDeep Blue Sea, enough to know better.
My heart settles in my chest when my gaze is met by a small snout, followed by a cute furry head with floppy ears attached. I’ve won too many fights against dangerous men using my bare hands to let a dog be the one to take me out. Wait, he looks awfully familiar. “Where do I know you from?” I walk closer after he wags his tail in a friendly manner. I scratch between his ears and he jumps up on my chest, nearly knocking me back on my ass.
Shoving him down, I keep stepping back until I’m on the grass, and he follows me demanding more pets.
I reach for his collar, rubbing my fingers over his shimmering license. Mr. Wiggles is his name, and he belongs to Patrick Weston.
Loud footsteps trail behind me and then stop. Patrick’s mouth is hanging open and his eyes are larger than before.
“Did you lose something else?”