Kristen Ashley - Own the Wind

“You lose sleep?” Shy asked.

“Every night, man, every single night. I see them every night.”

“So, you remember. You see them, tell me. Did they beg?”

The man closed his eyes.

“He got her earrings, every Christmas,” Shy told him. “Not shit, they were diamonds, emeralds, rubies. After you plugged her, when you rifled through my home, you didn’t get that shit, did you…” he hesitated before he finished with a disgusted “… bro? ”

The man opened his eyes and whispered, “No.”

“No,” Shy whispered back. “I know. My bitch aunt got them. The aunt my brother and I went to after you murdered my family. The aunt who made us her slaves. Who treated us like shit. Who hated us and let us know every fuckin’ day for six fuckin’ years. She got my mom’s earrings.”

“I’m sorry,” the man replied brokenly.

“So am I,” Shy agreed. “I’ve been sorry for sixteen fuckin’ years.”

“If I could take it back, I would,” the man told him.

“You can’t,” Shy replied shortly.

The man shifted, his eyes locked to Shy’s. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything. I get you. I deserve this. I knew this was coming. My penance. It was gonna come, I always knew it. You can’t do what I did and breathe easy. You need to know I’ll do anything you want but please, please man, don’t kill me.”

“If you’ll do anything I want then fuckin’ answer me, did they beg?”

He sucked in another wet, gurgling breath and answered, “No.”

“Tell me,” Shy ordered.

The man again shifted uncomfortably. “I… they, both of ’em… he surprised me. Didn’t see him. I was dealin’ with the clerk, he showed and I just, I just freaked and I…” He trailed off, but Shy knew what he did. He knew exactly what he did. He killed Shy’s father. Then the man told him, “She was in the kitchen. I surprised her.”

“Quick, right? It went quick?” Shy pushed.

“Yeah,” he said swiftly. “It went quick.”

“They didn’t suffer?”

“No,” the man shook his head against the dirt with difficulty. “No, man, they didn’t suffer. She didn’t…” his voice dropped near to nothing “… she didn’t even know I was there.”

Shy closed his eyes.

In his low voice, the man said, “I shot her in the back of the head.”

Shy’s head dropped forward.

“She didn’t know anything,” the man finished.

Shy lifted his head and looked at him. “One minute alive, two boys she loves, a husband who pulls her into his lap for a kiss, she’s just walkin’ through the room, a husband who gives her earrings, the next she’s nothing.”

The man nodded, his voiced hitching when he said, “I did that. I did it.”

Shy tipped his head to the side. “You got family?”

The man’s body jolted and his eyes, even swollen, went wide, filling with fear. “No, man, no. No family.”

“You have family,” Shy said.

The man shook his head. “No. Not before I got clean. After I got clean. Not before, man, they don’t know that me. They don’t even know I was that me.”

“They should know,” Shy told him.

The man shook his head in the dirt, his body shifting with agitation. “They don’t know. They only know the me after I got clean.”

“You took three lives, destroyed two more I know of, don’t know what you laid to waste for that clerk. You think they shouldn’t know?” Shy asked.

“I did that. I admitted it. I admitted it to that Native American dude who found me. I admitted it to those guys he set to guard me. I did it and it haunted me, man, it haunted me,” he said quickly. “It haunted me so much, what I was capable of, what that shit drove me to, I got clean.”

“So my parents died so you could learn your lesson and have a good life. You think I’m happy with that trade-off? My brother? You think that will mean shit to him? You think that means shit to me?”

“No, I don’t. I just… I don’t know, man, I just, since then, I got my act together. I got family. I got a reason to stay clean. They need me and I’m just sayin’, I get you, do what you have to do but I don’t wanna die.”

“Right now, you want that gift from me. You wanna keep breathin’.”

“Yes,” the man whispered.

“And you think,” Shy leaned forward, “you think, you shot my mother in the back of her fuckin’ head, you took that gift from her, you think you should get that gift from me?”

“No,” the man was still whispering. “I don’t deserve that. I know it. I just hope you have it in you to show mercy.”

Shy changed the subject. “Too young, cops didn’t tell that shit to kids and my aunt and uncle didn’t share fuckin’ anything. So you tell me. Where’d you shoot my dad?”

“Man, don’t do this to yourself.”

“Tell me,” Shy pushed, leaning further in, moving the hilt of the knife into his palm, his fingers curling around the shaft, movements the man didn’t miss. “Where… did… you… shoot my Dad? ” he ended his question on a roar.

“Tell him,” Tack rumbled and Shy’s head jerked around.

Jesus, he didn’t hear him.

The brothers moved in behind Tack.

Fuck, he didn’t hear any of them.

“Oh God, oh fuck, oh God,” the man chanted, scooting fearfully away but he stopped when Boz, Hound, and High rounded him at the back and the rest of the brothers circled around him.

Shy pushed up to his feet to stand by Tack.

“I said,” Shy stated, his eyes on Tack, “private party.”

“See you don’t get this, brother, but we’re crashing,” Tack replied.

“Answer his question, motherfucker,” Hop growled, nudging the man on the ground hard with his boot. “He wants to know where you shot his dad.”

“In the aisle,” the man said hurriedly.

“That the info you were lookin’ for, Shy?” Tack asked, his eyes pointed down at the man.

“No,” Shy answered.

The man shook his head.

“Uh… you’re not gettin’ this, dude, but you were in a world of hurt,” Boz spoke up then leaned down toward the man and clipped, “Now you’re in a world of pain. Tell my brother where you shot his fuckin’ dad. ”

“Face,” he whispered.

“Jesus, fuck, once we kill him, can I keep stabbing him?” Hound asked.

The man let out a terrified squeak.

Shy stared at Hound then he looked at Tack.

“You been out there awhile,” he guessed.

“Brothers don’t go it alone,” Tack replied, and Shy held his eyes.

Then Shy drew in a deep breath.

Finally, he told Tack, “He’s got family.”

“I heard. Do you care?” Tack returned.

“I been the survivin’ part of a family,” Shy reminded him.

“Vengeance,” Tack shook his head. “Brother, that shit is messy. This fuck we got here doesn’t mean shit but his family, you’re lookin’ at two things. They learn who he was, what he did and know he paid, or they live to have you where he is right now. Difference is, you got your brothers. That kind of shit”—he swung a hand toward the man in the dirt—“unlikely to happen to you. Way it’s goin’, my guess, you’ll have a new family soon. You carry through, suddenly, they’re vulnerable. Vengeance is a circle. There’s no corners to turn, there’s no end of the line. You feel lucky, we’ll deal accordingly. You want this to end here, we get creative in taking his penance and the circle is broken. Your choice. Whatever you choose, your brothers stand with you.”

Shy looked down at the man but felt a presence get close.

“This is not a case for mercy,” Big Petey rumbled.

Shy turned his head and looked into the man’s eyes.

Big Petey kept talking. “But, boy, you make this decision, you get on your bike, you go home, you lie down by your woman. So, right now, ask yourself, next time you touch her, how you gonna feel doin’ it with blood on your hands?”