The sounds of the city were muted out in the suburbs. One could almost believe they were in a whole different universe. There were no blaring horns, the fog of pollution, or blinding neon lights. In another life, maybe I'd live in such a calm place. But that hadn't been my fate. The constant noise and smells were home, one I'd grown accustomed to.
I pushed open the back gate, the wood freshly painted black and the bushes surrounding newly trimmed. Someone had a lot of time on their hands.
Toys littered the yard, a pogo stick, a firetruck near the swing set, and a shovel in a sandbox that had sand spilled around it. My eyes twitched as all of my focus was drawn to the uneven sand. It wasn't important, and yet I walked over to the small box.
I needed something else to focus on, something familiar that wasn't out of place and that didn't drive my need to fix it or tear everything apart. I reached into my coat, and my fingertips brushed along the cool metal of my staccato 9mm. It was familiar and perfection.
My hand wrapped around the gun and pulled it free. The moonlight glinted off the top of it, even the sky was mesmerized by its beauty. I took in measured breaths, remembering step by step how I'd taken it apart and cleaned it. My fingers twitched along the gun as if they were moving with my memory.
I felt more in control by the second and turned away from the distraction and to the house. The back porch light turned on as the door opened.
"Just taking the trash out."
The man I was there to see stepped out of his house. As if he sensed a predator in his presence, he went still, his gaze sweeping over the yard until his eyes fell on me. There wasn't a need for me to introduce myself. Recognition surfaced in his brown eyes the moment ours met.
"Don't do this here," Mark Lee pleaded.
I was a monster, but I wasn't a sloppy one.
"Don't worry. I don't plan on splattering your blood on your freshly cut lawn. Tell them you have to go."
Mark made his way to the trash and dropped his bag in. I still held my gun out, but he made no move to run. He knew better. His family would be used as collateral, and Mark wasn't a man to place his family in harm's way.
He walked back to the door, his shoulders set back and standing up tall at his full six-four height. If he wanted, he could fight me and run. However, we both knew how that would end. I'd been known to take men down twice my size.
Mark opened the door, keeping his body outside as he shouted inside. "I'm headed out, babe."
"At this time of night, Mark?" Her high-pitched voice scraped against my eardrums.
I put my gun away, no longer needing an anchor so I could deal with mild annoyances.
"Don't start, Linda."
Mark stepped back and glanced over his shoulder. Our eyes met briefly before he let the screen door close and headed for the back gate. Footsteps came from inside the suburban home before the back door was slammed open.
"When will you be back?" Linda shouted. Her bright green eyes landed on me, and understanding clicked. Her pink-painted lips pressed together in a fine line. "The boys—"
"Linda, get back in the house," Mark snapped.
She looked ready to argue, her pleading eyes never straying from me. "Boys need their father."
If she thought she was pulling at my heartstrings, she'd be sorely mistaken. I wasn't sure I even had one.
"Linda, go back in, please."
