Blue Smoke

her, straddled her.
    “You’re shaking.” His voice trembled with laughter now. “You’re shaking, just like you did that day. When your father gets here, I’m going to do you in front of him. I’m going to show him what a whore his precious daughter is.” He tore her shirt open, pressed the gun under her jaw.
    She heard herself whimper, fought the need to struggle.
    “Remember when I did that on the playground? You got tits now though.” He squeezed her breast with his hand, pursed his lips in mock approval. “Nice ones. You don’t cooperate, I’m going to do the same to your mother, to your sisters, even that Asian tramp your brother married. Then there’s that slutty little niece of yours. The young ones are the tastiest.”

    “I’ll kill you.” She was cold and hard as stone inside. She hadn’t had to find her anger. It had been there, waiting, all along. “I’ll kill you first.”
    “Who’s holding the gun, Reena?” He traced the barrel down her throat. “Who’s got the power?” Rammed the barrel hard under her jaw. “Who’s in fucking charge ?”
    “You are.” She kept her eyes on his, built her courage on that rock of anger. Do the job. “You are, Joey.”
    “Goddamn right. Your father for mine, bitch. Lose him, I let the rest of them live.”
    “I’ll call him.” She let the tears come, let herself shake—let him see what he expected to see. Weakness and fear. “He’d rather die than have you touch any of them.”
    “Good for him.”
    He shifted his weight. She counted her own breaths. Slowly sat up, keeping her teary eyes on his, hoping he saw only pleas and defeat.
    With tears dripping, she lifted a hand as if to draw her ripped shirt together. She swung out with her forearm, slapping away his gun hand, punched out with her other fist toward his face. She heard the gun clatter on the floor, then saw more stars as he fell on her.
    I n the car, Bo drummed his fingers. What the hell was taking her so long? He rechecked her bedroom window, saw the light burning. Checked his watch—again.
    She took much longer, he thought, the relief, the inactivity, the fact that it was four in the morning was going to put him to sleep.
    He got out, walked over to the cop on the passenger side. “I’m going to go in, okay? She must be packing a trunk instead of grabbing a clean shirt.”
    “Women.”
    “Whatcha gonna do?”
    He fished out his keys. They were going to have to think about the houses, he thought, studying the look of them as he walked to the steps.Sell one—which? Keep both and combine them? Might be an interesting job, but they’d end up with some big-ass house.
    He stifled a yawn, unlocked the door. “Hey, Reene, did you decide we should elope so you’re packing a trousseau? What exactly is a trousseau anyway?”
    He’d shut the door behind him, had gotten to the base of the stairs, when he heard her shout his name.
    Her nose was bleeding. She could taste blood in her mouth as she fought viciously. He’d kicked her—she thought he’d kicked her—but she couldn’t feel anything but rage and terror. She’d raked his face, gone for his eyes.
    She wasn’t the only one bleeding.
    But he was stronger, and he was winning.
    The sound of Bo’s voice wrenched a scream from her.
    “Bo! Get out. Get the cops!”
    Joey dived away from her. After the gun, oh God, the gun.
    Her vision was blurred, her lungs all but shut down. Tears spilled through the blood on her face as she crawled toward the doorway and her own weapon.
    Feet pounded. Or was it her heart? She rolled, the weapon gripped in both hands. And saw with dull horror that he hadn’t dived for the gun.
    “Don’t. For God’s sake. Can’t you smell it? You’ll go up like a torch.”
    “You, too.” He held the flaming match in the air. “Let’s see what it’s like.”
    He dropped the match into the pool on the floor. Fire burst, a quick roar of freedom. He flew onto the flames.
    She rolled as it leaped toward her. Screamed as it snatched at her legs. Bo was dragging her away from it, smothering flames with his hands, his body.
    “Linen closet, blankets.” Panting, she dragged off her smoldering pants. “Don’t touch the extinguisher, he might have rigged it. Go. Hurry!”
    She crab-walked back, teeth chattering.

    He was screaming now—horrible, inhuman sounds as he spun around the room. Fire embraced him.
    She saw, thought she saw, and would always see, his eyes locked on hers through the flames