The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,96
his wrists and a garden stake through each of his ankles. He’s screaming, his voice hoarse and broken, and I swear it’s the sweetest motherfucking sound.
“Should I even ask why you want the hearts?” Roxas says, leaning against the far wall like he’s cozying up to watch a show.
I roll out my toolkit and take out a cleaver, the edge of it freshly sharpened. I keep them well maintained, always as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel.
“Hearts for his woman. Sounds fucking poetic to me. Didn’t know you were the type.” Says Harbin.
I enjoy the bloodcurdling terror in the Vulture’s eyes as I lift the cleaver, ready to smash through his rib cage.
“What can I say, I’m a fucking romantic.”
Epilogue
Illi
I take her hand, the one with the rings marking her as mine, and I walk her into the tattoo parlor behind me. She squeezes my hand a little, nervous at the musty dark little hole in the wall place I’ve brought her but I’ve spent enough time here to know we’re safe here and we’ll be well looked after.
“Illi! Long time no see, man! I didn’t think you had any space left on you for ink.” Kiefer calls out and I nod at him.
Odie peeks out from behind me and his eyes widen. “Holy shit! You brought a girl here? It must be love!”
I grin and squeeze her hand back. “Have some respect, asshole, this is my wife.”
The words just roll off of my tongue perfectly, no hesitation in me at all. She’s mine, my girl and my wife. In the eyes of the law and the lawless streets of the Bay, Odette Illium is fucking mine.
He grins and introduces himself, shaking Odie’s hand quickly and stepping away like his ass is on fire when he gets a look at the scowl I’m throwing him.
I don’t like people touching her. Fucking no one, not even an old friend.
“I need some ink.”
Kiefer nods and motions towards the table. I direct Odie over to the spare chair and get her situated, double-checking I have a good view of the door and the street outside from where I’m sitting before I make my choice to go through with this now. I need her safe the same way I need air in my lungs. It’s non negotiable, a necessity for my survival.
“What are you after? And where the hell do you have skin left? Are we going with more ink on your face?” Kiefer snaps on gloves as he talks.
He’s the type of artist that doesn’t ever use stencils, freehand drawing everything straight onto the skin and then working his magic. I’d found him years ago, back before he had the shop, and from the second I’d seen his work I’d never let anyone else touch me.
I’m sure he’s going to hate that fact now.
“Two things. I want my wedding band tattooed to my finger and I want my wife's name tattooed on me.”
Kiefer nods and fires up the tattoo gun. “A black band? Smart move, rings can be dangerous on the job.”
He knows exactly what work I do. Most of the Bay do, but he’s had to patch up tattoos on me before, covering stab wounds and bullet holes the second they’ve healed up enough.
The band takes a half hour, Kiefer prattling on about gang wars and stray bullets the whole time. Odie keeps her eyes on mine, the small smile she often wears flirting with the edges of her lips. She looks so fucking happy, just so at peace with being Mrs. Johnny Illium and our life here in the worst city in all of the country.
I’m a fucking lucky man.
“And where exactly am I putting your wife’s name? And I need the spelling, I’ve never met an ‘Odette’ before.”
I smirk at him and stand up. He doesn’t notice the smirk and he doesn’t catch the rosy blush on my girl’s cheeks either. “It’s O-D-E-T-T-E and I want it on my dick.”
Kiefer blinks at me and then shakes his head. “Of fucking course you’re getting it on your fucking dick. Like my day hasn’t been long enough. Well, come on then. Get the monster out.”
My phone buzzes on the table by my bed.
I ignore it for a second, stroking the hair away from my girl’s face and peering down at her instead. But there’s only one person in the world that calls me with that ringtone. I changed it on purpose, had to make sure I never ignored the kid. After everything she’s