giving us another chance to make it right. My family appreciates your generosity,” said Wheezer.
“Hmm. I’m sure. Now, before you leave, bring me the statue.” Dr. Chappo pointed to the étagère across the room. Wheezer walked over to the shelf and gingerly picked up the relic. “Put it in my hands and go, the both of you. Go and get my Sirona. I don’t care what it takes.” Chappo put the statue on his lap, pushed a button that opened the front door, and wheeled himself out of the room. “Close the door behind you,” he yelled back at the men.
***
That’ll teach her. That’ll teach her what happens to a woman who doesn’t show some appreciation for a man’s great strength and prowess. Goddess or not, the bitch certainly had it coming. No woman is ever gonna reject The Bull and get away with it. Now she’s dead, with a noose wrapped around her slender neck.
Good riddance. And fuck Dr. Chappo and his damned disease, too. Let the man rot or turn to stone, or die .
Bull had enough of him, and other prospects in mind. He was going rogue. He’d learned enough from his previous bosses to make a go of it as a contract killer in the organized crime world. The past few years had shown him that he could have a great career in the contract hit business.
Murdering people eased the ever-present tension and anger that always simmered in his mind. He wasn’t about to cry over an abusive childhood. Hell, it’s made me the bastard I am today. Thanks, Pops . And his opinion on women, well, dear old Mommy taught him a valuable lesson about how to get the most from them. You had to use terror. Pure, unadulterated terror to keep them in line. If that didn’t work, kill ‘em. Rest in peace, Mother dear.
Bull pulled up to a rundown motel off of I-17, somewhere near Cave Creek. He paid to stay for two hours, long enough to relax for bit and make plans. He clicked on the TV and found porn and a couple of local stations. One of them had the news, so he cranked up the volume.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” he shouted aloud. The anchor was talking about an attack on a woman in a Verde Valley hospital.
“The woman is alive and police are looking for the assailant. Here is a sketch of his face….”
“Holy fucking shit,” he hissed.
He grabbed his backpack and ran out of the room to his truck. APB or no, I gotta finish this bitch off once and for all. She’s like a cat with nine fucking lives! She’s dead .
“Dead, dead, dead,” he roared while he slammed his fists into the steering wheel, heading back north. “Gonna kill her good and dead.”
Chapter Nine
Serena looked like her name implied, calm and serene. By the time Raphael had cleaned up his shattered mess in the kitchen and returned to the living room, she’d dozed off. He sat in the winged chair opposite the couch and watched her as he would a sunset, with awe and wonder. How could one appear so fragile and yet possess such fortitude ? She’s a mystery, a puzzle begging to be solved. But should I be the one to attempt it ?
There were no easy answers, except to take each day one at a time. He would first let her heal and get to know her. Serena, that is. After all, he didn’t have a clue into her life. What he did understand, he was drawn to her like no other. He suspected a part of that had to do with how closely she resembled Sirona. But Serena didn’t know it, and everything she said, every move she made, he supposed, was uniquely hers, uniquely Serena. Or was it? Maybe her very essence was inexorably tied to Sirona’s soul, so that the two coexisted without knowing one from the other. The contemplations were enough to drive him insane!
He decided to move Serena to her bedroom, if only to have a chance to hold her again. Oh, he could justify anything if he tried hard enough. She felt light as a feather while he whisked her away, and she remained asleep the entire time. Once he laid her on the bed, he took off her shoes and
“Hmm. I’m sure. Now, before you leave, bring me the statue.” Dr. Chappo pointed to the étagère across the room. Wheezer walked over to the shelf and gingerly picked up the relic. “Put it in my hands and go, the both of you. Go and get my Sirona. I don’t care what it takes.” Chappo put the statue on his lap, pushed a button that opened the front door, and wheeled himself out of the room. “Close the door behind you,” he yelled back at the men.
***
That’ll teach her. That’ll teach her what happens to a woman who doesn’t show some appreciation for a man’s great strength and prowess. Goddess or not, the bitch certainly had it coming. No woman is ever gonna reject The Bull and get away with it. Now she’s dead, with a noose wrapped around her slender neck.
Good riddance. And fuck Dr. Chappo and his damned disease, too. Let the man rot or turn to stone, or die .
Bull had enough of him, and other prospects in mind. He was going rogue. He’d learned enough from his previous bosses to make a go of it as a contract killer in the organized crime world. The past few years had shown him that he could have a great career in the contract hit business.
Murdering people eased the ever-present tension and anger that always simmered in his mind. He wasn’t about to cry over an abusive childhood. Hell, it’s made me the bastard I am today. Thanks, Pops . And his opinion on women, well, dear old Mommy taught him a valuable lesson about how to get the most from them. You had to use terror. Pure, unadulterated terror to keep them in line. If that didn’t work, kill ‘em. Rest in peace, Mother dear.
Bull pulled up to a rundown motel off of I-17, somewhere near Cave Creek. He paid to stay for two hours, long enough to relax for bit and make plans. He clicked on the TV and found porn and a couple of local stations. One of them had the news, so he cranked up the volume.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” he shouted aloud. The anchor was talking about an attack on a woman in a Verde Valley hospital.
“The woman is alive and police are looking for the assailant. Here is a sketch of his face….”
“Holy fucking shit,” he hissed.
He grabbed his backpack and ran out of the room to his truck. APB or no, I gotta finish this bitch off once and for all. She’s like a cat with nine fucking lives! She’s dead .
“Dead, dead, dead,” he roared while he slammed his fists into the steering wheel, heading back north. “Gonna kill her good and dead.”
Chapter Nine
Serena looked like her name implied, calm and serene. By the time Raphael had cleaned up his shattered mess in the kitchen and returned to the living room, she’d dozed off. He sat in the winged chair opposite the couch and watched her as he would a sunset, with awe and wonder. How could one appear so fragile and yet possess such fortitude ? She’s a mystery, a puzzle begging to be solved. But should I be the one to attempt it ?
There were no easy answers, except to take each day one at a time. He would first let her heal and get to know her. Serena, that is. After all, he didn’t have a clue into her life. What he did understand, he was drawn to her like no other. He suspected a part of that had to do with how closely she resembled Sirona. But Serena didn’t know it, and everything she said, every move she made, he supposed, was uniquely hers, uniquely Serena. Or was it? Maybe her very essence was inexorably tied to Sirona’s soul, so that the two coexisted without knowing one from the other. The contemplations were enough to drive him insane!
He decided to move Serena to her bedroom, if only to have a chance to hold her again. Oh, he could justify anything if he tried hard enough. She felt light as a feather while he whisked her away, and she remained asleep the entire time. Once he laid her on the bed, he took off her shoes and
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