(Sequel to Two Gangs and a Golden Girl)
***
"If you even think about touching me, I will literally rip off your arm," I growl when Xavier prowls closer. He doesn't stop. His poison green eyes drill into mine.
"I will have you, Marigold, and we will...
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A/N: Honestly, for those that don't know how to pronounce Jaaco, it's Jah-coh. Like Jahhhhh-co. Easy.
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My Sunday night turned out to be very different from what I expected.
For one, Pollock kept barking at the door while I was upstairs, painting. Every time I went down to see what he was barking at, there was nothing. By the firth time he started barking, I was busy with an intense piece on the painting and looked up to start yelling at him from upstairs, but at the door to my art studio was a figure clad in grey.
My first instinct was to chuck it with paint.
"Ahh! Wait, wait! Amber, it's me!" the figure exclaimed in panic.
I looked up in confusion and sure enough, Mr Wessils, aka Jaaco, was standing there - covered in yellow paint.
"Mister... Mister Wessils? What are you doing here?" I asked, but then quickly remembered his allegiance is to the South so I backed away and grabbed the nearest paintbrush as defense.
"Please, it's just Jaaco," he said while trying and failing at getting paint off of him.
I held the paintbrush up higher like it was loaded or something. "You work for the South... What do you want?" I asked with gritted teeth. His leader killed my parents. His gang is the reason why my life turned out to be so messed up. There was no way he was getting out of there alive.
Jaaco stopped trying to get paint off of him and instead raised his hands like he was calming a wild animal. "Now hear me out," he said slowly, but I didn't want to hear another sound coming from him.
Like it could do any damage, I chucked my paint brush at him and picked up another. It bounced off his chest harmlessly and Jaaco just stood there confused.
"I suggest you leave before I kick your ass," I growled.
But a part of me didn't want him to leave. A part of me wanted him to stay so I could fight him and call for help and have the gang come back for me so I could leave this boring fricken town and get into the action again. I wanted him to pull out a gun so I could dodge it, dive and disarm him. I wanted to fight. To do anything except sit there to rot away.
