1,096.
That’s how many days I’ve been waiting for this. Bella curled up in my arms as I carry her to my—our—house.
The memory of being inside her plays on repeat. I’m pretty sure the first wet dream I had was about her. Thirteen-year-old me would be high-fiving myself and patting my back. Shit, I’m even walking with my chest puffed out.
Is this the post-sex glow everyone talks about? Bella looks exhausted, flushed and freshly fucked. I bet I look like a god right now.
I’m surprised that I lasted as long as I did, actually. The second I was in her, I was ready to finish. I had to start thinking about things other than Bella.
Luckily, she came when she did; if not, I wasn’t sure if I could have held it any longer.
I don’t think she realizes how stressful being a virgin in a men’s prison is.
Twenty-fucking-two years old, and my girl and I lost our virginities in the middle of the woods. This will go down in the history books.
Frankly, I could go again. Round two: see if I can make her scream louder… and if I can last longer. It’s unlikely, but I’m up for the challenge.
I was ready to go the second I saw my come leaking from that sweet pussy of hers. Fuck, that was everything I wanted and more.
Best game of tag we’ve ever played. I almost fucking lost it when she became sneaky and tried to throw me off her scent with the boulders. God, she’s perfect. I can’t get enough of her, can’t even pull my sights away from her, half asleep, nuzzled up into my chest.
Her thick lashes dust her cheeks, and her pouty lips are parted ever so slightly. Dirt is smeared across her face, and an assortment of leaves and twigs have made a home in her hair—it’s going to be a bitch to clean. Her hand rests between my ribcage on the spot where her name is permanently marked on my skin.
I wanted to pick her brain apart and figure out what she thought when she saw it. There can’t be any more doubt in her mind that everything I’ve told her is the truth. She’s the only one there is for me, and there’s nothing else to it.
Hands down, these have been the best three days in my life, even though she’s ignored me for the majority.
The floorboards squeal beneath our weight, stirring the princess from her nap.
“Shh, keep sleeping. I’ve got you.”
A soft crease forms between her eyebrows, and she keeps her eyes wide open but makes no move to get away.
Which, obviously, goes straight to my ego. There are only two reasons I’m willing to accept why she’s happy to stay in my arms. Firstly, she loves me and never wants to leave me. Secondly, I fucked her so well that she, again, never wants to leave me. I’m not even going to entertain the possibility that it’s just because she’s tired.
I’m a pessimist by trade but an optimist when it comes to her. She called me a name for it once: “delusional.” I called it being a “realist.” We agree to disagree and all that. I don’t like labels, whether from her, Margaret, or Arthur, the prison shrink.
“I can walk,” Bella argues.
The bubble bursts.
I hold back a sigh and the retort on the tip of my tongue and settle with, “Shut up.”
She’s still a bit sensitive about the whole murder and kidnapping thing, which makes sense, I guess. So I have to go easy on her and shower her with pretty words so she doesn’t see blood in the foreseeable future.
Unlikely.
But as I said, I’m an optimist when it comes to her.
How long would it take for someone to get over that? Like, two days? Three? She never used the safe word; at least she isn’t mad at me anymore. Which makes her constant need to fight irritating—
Oh.
I chuckle to myself as I open the door. So this is how she feels whenever I get us into trouble using that beautiful word starting with ‘V.’ Not vagina, violence.
“Don’t tell me to shut up,” she mumbles, lacking the usual anger she carries around with her nowadays.
“Hmm? I seem to recall you being pretty compliant just minutes ago.”
Her cheeks redden. “I wasn’t.”
Again, with the combativeness.
I head for the bathroom and will my cock to settle because the big guy knows that we’re about to see our princess naked again. What a sight that is.
“Would you like me to refresh your memory on what a good girl you were for me?” Shit. This is just a recipe to make me harder. “You ran when I told you, moaned my name, begged me to fuck you, came on my—”
“Okay, okay. I get your point,” she interrupts my list. I finish saying the rest in my head.
Slowly, I lower her onto the bathroom floor, her clothes ripped and muddy. The newly installed faucet—thanks, Google—hisses and sputters for a few seconds before water fills the tub.
I turn back to Bella and the weary stare she’s sporting. “Strip,” I order.
Her big doe eyes turn to saucers. “What? No, I can bathe myself.”
“That wasn’t my question? In fact, I don’t recall asking one. Now strip.”
She crosses her arms over her chest protectively, rather than in defiance. A blush pairs with her discomfort. Maybe that’s her new nickname, Blushing Bella.
No, I don’t like it. The alliteration doesn’t sound right in my head. I’ll stick with the ones I already gave her.
I smirk. “Don’t get shy on me now. I just had you naked with your tits in my mouth.”
I’m not sure how Bella became a prude when she grew up with me by her side. I didn’t expect her to splutter like she’s trying to find the right words to scold me.
“If you need convincing about whether your body is quite literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I suggest you look away from my eyes and farther south.” There’s no point trying to hide the bulge; it’s not like I can get it down anyway.
Now that I know what she feels like, being alone with Bella anywhere will make it hard to function.
She stills when she does exactly what I suggested. “Aren’t you tired?” she gasps.
“Spread your legs and find out.”
Bella shudders like the thought physically pains her. I don’t have a virgin kink, but fuck, seeing her blood on me was enough to do me in.
Deflating, she says, “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“Did I give you the impression that I might?”
It irks me that she doesn’t grace me with a response—like she’s not just physically tired, but also tired of me.
She mutters something under her breath and starts undressing. By some unknown power of inner strength, I manage to stop myself from pulling up the stool just to watch her remove her clothes and instead rummage around the cupboards for something that says serum or bath explosion—I don’t know. Whatever they call the stuff they put into bathtubs to make it all bubbly and shit. Is it just soap? Fuck if I know. It’s not like I’ve had the fortune to take a bath with Bella before.
I find a little bottle of oil I stole from Millie and put a couple of drops into the water. Followed by soap.
Bella barely gives me a chance to admire her naked body before she practically jumps into the tub, hugging her knees to her chest. The water sloshes around her, a thousand tiny bubbles popping against her tan skin.
Reaching behind my head, I pull my shirt off and shuck my pants to the side. She whips around, eyes almost falling out of her head as she shrieks, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” The hot water burns my skin when I step in, but I grit my teeth and pretend it’s just right.
“No! You can take a bath after.” She goes to the other end of the tub, where the tap water runs down her back, so she’s as far from me as she can possibly go. When will she learn that fighting me is useless?
“You’re not the only one who had some fun in the dirt.”
I’m not sure if she heard what I said because her jaw has dropped, and her full attention is on the big guy, who is definitely getting a little too excited at our proximity to a very naked Bella. She clamps her mouth shut as her throat bobs, really doing wonders for my ego.
“You can touch him. He doesn’t bite.” I smirk. “Much.”
She snaps her attention away and proceeds to wash herself, ignoring me completely. No, that won’t do.
“Hey! Stop that!”
Her weak little hits to my arms do nothing as I pick her up and settle her between my legs, but I admire her tenacity. Plus, all her squirming is making my dick harder—which she is getting a first-hand feel for because, in my infinite wisdom, I have managed to get her ass perfectly lined up against me.
Bella stills when I start twitching. “What is—” She slams her mouth shut.
I smile. She noticed the rager downstairs, after all.
Pigtails hasn’t changed on the squeamish front. When she turned sixteen, it was like she was a different person around me. I put it down to the fact that she realized she was madly in love with me, but it could also be hormones, biology, and shit. I don’t know. I mean, I definitely got hotter around that time.
“I won’t complain if you move around again. Just know I will hold no responsibility over how sore you are after.”
She squeaks. That’s the only way to explain the sound she made. It’s something like a swallowed gasp and a tiny shriek that can barely be heard above the sound of the tap.
“Good girl.”
Like in the woods before, she visibly relaxes from the praise. I can’t wait to see what else will get her going.
I scrub the dirt from her skin and de-nest her hair, and it pleases me more than it should that she hasn’t tried fighting me again. But that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten any softer. Nope, I am very much still hard and prodding around areas that I very much want to sink into.
It isn’t until I start massaging her scalp that she relaxes into me. It makes brushing her hair difficult, but I’m not about to ask her to move. It feels far too nice having her against me, especially when she grabs a cloth and returns the favor. But I don’t quite like the frown she has as she does it.
“What? You—”
“Don’t ruin it.” She silences me with three words without so much as a glance my way, frowning harder as she scrubs the marks on my forearm.
I don’t have the heart to tell her she can scrub all she wants; it isn’t dirt she’s trying to get off. I paid good money to make sure that ink wasn’t going anywhere.
I see the exact moment Bella realizes what it is. Her cheeks go red, and she looks at me from the corner of her eye and pretends she didn’t spend the better part of a minute having a go at trying to rub off the fine-line tattoo of a drawing she made me when she was seven. The first drawing she ever gave me.
Either way, I still take the interaction for what it is: a win.
Deciding her work is done, she drops the cloth onto the corner of the tub, sighing as she relaxes onto my chest.
My heart beats steadily as I watch her and how she curls into me when I wrap an arm around her waist. There are so many things I want to say and do, but I know I’d ruin this moment if I did.
I know she thinks she has changed, but to me, she’s the exact same person. The only difference is that she’s come out of her shell. I always saw hints of her snarkiness and fighting spirit, but she never let it out. Not even in the three months I’ve been watching her.
“What’s this from?” I trace the three little scars on her stomach. One below her belly button and another on either side of her stomach.
“My appendix burst. I was hospitalized.”
I still. “When?”
“Two years ago.”
I can’t think of what to say. I should have been there for her. Millie and Jeremy wouldn’t have sat by her side or waited when she had surgery. I want to kill Marcus all over again for keeping the letters from her. She must have felt all alone.
“Are you okay?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I just don’t have an appendix.”
Bella’s brown eyes fix on the ink covering my skin. She purses her lips as she runs her nimble fingers over the bear standing on its hind legs on my thigh, to the snake coiled around my wrist, then the tiger crawling down my shoulder, to the mouse on my chest, and finally, the bullet wound just under her name. She ends on my inner bicep, where I have a mouse wearing a tiara, her signature on any street art we’d do together.
She traces each one she can reach, even the pieces I’ve drawn, like the one of the barn house, the design on her locket, and the trip we did to Yellowstone—which she hated because of how much walking we had to do, but loved because she was stalked by a stray cat for three hours. She called herself a cat mom for a solid month after.
“Do they have meaning?” she whispers as her hand skates over a fox.
“Yes.”
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Why did you get them?”
“So when you look at me, there isn’t an inch of me you don’t like.”
Realization unfolds behind her brown eyes. Everything she’s ever liked is marked on my skin for the rest of my life: her favorite animals, the trips we’ve done, things that matter to her.
Her bottom lip trembles for the briefest moment before she tears her eyes away from the tattoos and to the chain around my neck.
Fingering the pendant, she turns it over, narrowing her eyes to read the date engraved into the silver coin.
“My first day at Woodside Elementary,” I say before she can ask.
She looks at me in question.
“The first time we met.”
Her lips form into an ‘O,’ and she slowly settles back against my chest so I can’t see her, stiff with tension. Did I do something wrong? I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything to piss her off.
I turn her around and settle her between my legs. “While I was in prison, I also learned how to play guitar,” I add, to lighten the mood.
“Oh, really?” There’s an air of disinterest in her response. Seriously, what did I do wrong now?
“Yeah,” I say coolly. “I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb with my eyes closed.”
Her chuckle is half-hearted at best.
Fuck it, we’re going in for the kill. What’s she going to do? Get madder? That’s fine. She’s still stuck with me.
Grabbing a cloth, I say, “Oh, that’s right, how silly of me.”
“Huh?”
“I missed a spot.” She all but lurches out of the bathtub when I gently press the cloth against her pussy. Squealing, she tries to push my arms away, but she isn’t sure which one to focus on; the one squeezing her nipple or the one getting nice and thorough with the cleaning.
She clamps down around my fingers, making me groan. “Settle down. You don’t want to get me excited.”
“Mickey,” she gasps. “I’m serious! I need a break.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I chuckle as she bucks her hips, practically grinding her ass against me as I slowly move my fingers in and out of her. “What type of person would that make me if I didn’t make sure you’re squeaky clean?”
Bella whimpers and digs her nails into my wrist, but she’s hardly trying to push me away. Ribbons of red are drawn all over my arms and chest. If I wasn’t already tattooed, I’d get her claw marks permanently etched into my skin.
“Oh, I think I missed another spot.” I curl my fingers, and she moans—God, I can’t get enough of that sound—pushing farther back against my cock. I may potentially die from blue balls, but it’ll be worth it if I can feel her choke my fingers.
I twist her nipple between my fingers, watching how her chest rises and falls and the outline of her sweet pussy through the rippling water.
“Mickey.” She draws out my name on a whimper when I thumb her clit.
“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
She trembles. “I’m sensitive.”
“Then tell me to stop.” Other than her hiccupping moans, she doesn’t make a sound. “That’s it. You like it, don’t you? It feels too good. Do you know why, Bella? Do you know why your cunt isn’t letting me go?”
I tip her head up by her chin and brush my lips against hers, smiling when she leans forward to chase my touch.
“Your body is made for me. It knows only I can give you what it wants—what it craves. You belong to me. All of you. And you know what the best part is?”
She stares up at me with heavy lids without responding.
“Answer me,” I growl, plunging into her faster.
“No,” she pants, gripping onto my arms.
A smile drags across my lips, eliciting a glimmer of fear in her eyes. “You’re going to come on my fingers because I fucking say you will.”
I don’t give her a chance to argue before I pinch her nipples and latch my mouth onto the soft skin of her neck. She cries out, tightening around my fingers as I increase my speed, keeping them curled and my thumb on her clit.
Bella releases a beautiful, guttural cry as her entire body spasms against me. But I don’t stop fucking her with my fingers—not until she’s screaming and pushing away my hand like I might kill her if I keep going.
My balls are so tight that it’s painful, but I try to keep distracted by massaging out her muscles even though she’s practically shattered against me.
Fuck, for the first time in years, I feel like I can finally relax. I’m out of prison, Bella is in my arms—reluctantly, but she’ll be volunteering soon enough—we’ve got a house, food, and nothing but time on our hands.
“We should get out before we prune,” Bella says, pulling away from me.
“In a second.” I draw her back, even though the water is going cold.
“But I want—never mind,” she finishes with a whisper.
“You do mind. Tell me what you want.”
“I’m hungry.”
Well, that’s enough to convince me to get out. Come to think of it, I’m starving, too. “Okay,” I say, slowly releasing her, even though I really don’t want to.
I help her out of the tub and let her get dressed herself, because I’ll jump her if I have to look at her naked again. She locks herself away in our room while I fix our late lunch, and pop a packet of Plan B next to a glass of water—I’m down for kids, but after three years without Bella, I’d rather have her undivided attention.
As I put food on the bench, movement catches my attention from outside the window. My senses kick into overdrive. Keeping my steps light, I creep toward the coat hooks next to the front door and grab the gun from my jacket.
Walking past window after window, no one comes into view. Then I see him, some brawny fucker who looks like he could crush my head with his bare hands. White-hot rage burns through me when I realize he’s heading toward the bedroom.
I don’t think twice before sprinting to Bella. The door swings open, and she jolts back with a gasp, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “What—”
Her words die when I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her back into the bathroom. She kicks her legs out and the start of a scream vibrates against my skin.
“Someone’s here,” I whisper. As I push her down into the corner, she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “I need you to stay very silent for me, okay?”
Removing my hand, she nods.
“You don’t move from this spot, no matter what you hear.”
Her breath comes out in ragged bursts as she bobs her head up and down.
“There’s a knife hidden in the second drawer.” I nod to the vanity and rush onto the porch, gun ready.
My pulse hammers away, roaring in my ears. This asshole must have a fucking death wish coming around here when Bella is in the house. The cold air stings my bare chest, and the ground is no less vicious on my feet as I stalk to the back of the house.
I snap my head toward every sound I hear, waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows or step into the house while I’m outside.
“You owe us money,” a deep voice growls from behind me.
I whirl around, gun raised. The monstrosity in front of me has his weapon raised, too, except his is one of those flashy gold and marble pistols. He doesn’t look like the usual city gangster, more like the cowboy rendition of one with his hat and a pair of boots.
“No, the fuck I don’t.”
I could. I have no idea. Usually, when someone tries to rig a game, I don’t do as they say. Then they get pissy about it and claim that I owe them money when I never agreed to their terms.
Who is he and what money does he think I owe them? And most importantly, how the fuck does he know where I live, and who else knows?
He turns his safety off. “Don’t play dumb with me, boy.”
This is only going to end with him in the dirt. Bella’s inside, and there’s no way he’s coming out of this alive. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you better get off my property.”
“You lost some friends of mine a great deal of money. I’m here to collect.”
“I don’t owe you or your friend shit,” I spit. “I’m going to give you three more seconds to fuck off.”
“You seem to think you’re the one in power—”
They always seem to doubt my seriousness. Older guys like him always think they’re smarter and better, but the fact that he’s twice my size only makes me more trigger-happy.
“One.”
“If I were you, I’d shut up and listen before your girl—”
The trick is never to get to ‘two.’
A loud bang echoes through the forest, shaking the trees and making my ears ring from the sound—kind of like screaming. I’ve fired before, and it’s never sounded like this.
“Mickey!” I whip toward the sound of Bella’s shrill cry, and I see red.
Another guy—one I didn’t fucking see—has his hands around Bella’s neck and a gun aimed at her head. Tears stream down her ghastly pale cheeks, and her bottom lip quivers violently.
“You stupid motherfucker!” he snarls, throwing Bella to the side and aiming straight at me.
I drop to my haunches and lunge. A shot fires, missing me completely. Half a second later, my shoulder collides with his gut. He brings his knee up at the same time, kneeing me in the stomach, but his lack of balance has us both on the ground, grappling for the upper hand. A-fucking-gain.
First, the fucker who followed my Bella, now him?
The guy’s bigger than me, so he has me under him before I can do shit. My head swings to the side as pain splits through my jaw from the force of his punch. But he made a big mistake. He brought a fist to a knife fight.
I grab the switchblade from my pocket and bury it into his side just as he lands another punch. The bigger ones are always slower to react.
He rears back, grunting in pain, but he doesn’t stop trying to hit me. Removing my knife, I jam it into his side again.
Crimson warmth pools on my stomach, but I don’t get the chance to stab him a third time before he’s whipped to the side. Standing beneath the fading light of the sun is my very own saving grace, holding a spare wooden plank in her hands.
He reaches back to grab her, but she swings again, this time making us both grunt as a splinter lodges itself into my arm. She screams when he attempts to grab her in his disorientated state. Then I’m on him, ignoring the pain in my arm as I sink my blade into him over and over again.
I lost count at six stabs. I can still picture the gun pressed to Bella’s head—my Bella—and the fear in her eyes that she might be the next one to have a bullet in her.
The asshole falls onto me, limp, but I’m not done.
“He’s dead,” Bella cries.
I shove him over and keep stabbing and slicing. Chunks of flesh peel away from this pathetic man’s body. All there is—all I see—is red. Blood. Rage. It isn’t enough.
He put his hands on her. He was going to kill her. He was going to take my Bella away from me.
“Mickey, stop,” Bella sobs, dragging my attention away from the carnage.
Her big brown eyes dart around, from the blood all over me, to the knife, to the two men and the fallen gun. Over and over and over. Each time she does the rotation, the air grows thicker with her terror. She steps back when I step forward.
No. Not this shit again.
She keeps stepping back, though I don’t let her get far. There’s no way I’d let her out of sight after what we did today. She accepted me. She chose me. I’m not going to let her forget that.
I can’t lose her. I won’t.
The knife clatters to the ground as I grab her hand and root her to the spot before she can go any further.
“Bella.” I grip her chin and force her to turn away. “Look at me, okay? Not at him. You did such a good job hitting him.”
“You—” she gasps for breath, glancing down at the blood covering me with wide, frantic eyes. “You—you slaughtered him. Just…” Her eyes dart around like she’s trying to figure out what to say. “Just like you did to Greg and Marcus.”
I sink to my knees before her, feeling the wet earth seep into my pants as I tug her hands to my chest, ignoring the way the splinter digs deeper into my skin. “Do you see what I’d do for you? You drive me crazy—I’m fucking crazy. For you. Only you. Tell me you get that. Tell me you get that?”
She shakes her head slowly.
No, no, no, no. She can’t look away from me. She has to see me, see that there isn’t a line I wouldn’t cross for her.
“I did this for us, Bella. For you.” I try to pull her down with me, but she refuses to move. Refuses to pull her attention away from the corpses. “Look at me.”
“How many?” she shudders out. “When will people stop dying around us?”
“No one else was meant to die.” That you needed to know about. “I don’t know how they got here or why they were here. You have to believe me. This wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t tell anyone about this place.”
She tries to snatch her hands away, but I don’t let her. “What is the plan then, Mickey?”
“To stay here.” Just until we figure out what we want to do. The place needs a lot of work, and I didn’t have time to fix everything before I got here.
“And then what?” she snaps.
“We’ll figure it out.” Leave, go somewhere new, get a fresh start.
She looks at me blankly, fear gone from her eyes. “We’ll figure it out,” she echoes. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. “So you’re telling me that you planned to do up a house, break into my house, torture and kill Marcus and Greg, then tie me up and kidnap me, but not what to do afterward?”
I can’t help it, I grin. Those were all greatly executed things she listed. “Well, I didn’t plan on tying you up. That was just an added bonus.”
Wrong thing to say.
That was definitely the wrong thing to say.
I’m pretty sure there’s steam coming out of her ears. She’s so cute when she’s angry. Her face goes red, and she does this little scrunch with her nose, always cocking her hips, all sassy. The best part? Her attention is completely on me. Score.
“An added bonus,” she says slowly, wrapping her tongue around each syllable like she’s making sure she says it right. “An added bonus?” There’s a flare with how she says the words. And now, cue the fireworks. “An added bonus? You—”
“Baby, you’re so good at repeating things.”
At this rate, she might shoot me. I could blame my stupidity on the combination of post-coital bliss, blue balls, and bloodlust. I said she’s cute when she’s angry, right? Because shit, even the way her eyes light up is adorable. Bella’s like a mad little puppy that, though she can be mad all she likes, she’s stuck with me.
For the second time, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, muttering to herself, “No, nope. I’m not going to go there.”
I nip her finger, and she snaps her eyelids open. “Let’s go there, baby.”
“No, Mickey, we will not be going there. So, pray tell, what did you see as the exit plan if and when someone came knocking on the door, and you had to kill them.” She’s practically vibrating with barely restrained anger. It’s kinda hot, but I don’t like the tone she uses. It reminds me of a teacher telling a kid off.
Rising onto my feet, I attempt to wrap her arms around my neck, but she refuses to comply. So instead, she stands there, stiff as a board, while I hold her waist. But she doesn’t lean back when I close the distance, so there’s only an inch between our faces.
“I guess we’re going to Mexico, baby.”
Her jaw drops, completely floored by my response, and suddenly, she’s all wiggle-and-fight-Mickey again, slapping my arms and shrugging out of my grasp.
Fine, I’ll let her have this little victory.
I let go, and she goes flying back, crossing her arms with a crazed expression. “My mother almost died trying to get out of that country, and you want us to go there voluntarily.”
I squint at her, considering her point. “You’re right. Well, I hope you like maple, mooses, and mountains then. Canada, here we come.”
“Moose,” she corrects. “The plural of moose is moose.”
“You’re so sexy when you get all nerdy on me.” I wink.
Narrowing her eyes, she does that cute nose scrunch. “How do you expect us to go there? I’m probably on the missing persons’ list right now—there’s probably an ABB on me! Not to mention, we have no money.”
“It’s APB. And, Bella, you can question a lot of things, but don’t doubt my ability to make you happy.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Happy would also mean that we aren’t starved and homeless.”
“I’ve got money and a car. We can drive around until we figure it out.” It’s obvious Bella isn’t a number one fan of this place, with the crease that forms between her brows every time the house creaks or whenever she looks at the patches on the walls.
“We can’t just live out of a car, Mickey. What about kids?”
I pause, checking that I heard her correctly. “You want to have kids with me?” I smile.
She flutters her eyelashes and looks anywhere but at me. “What? No. I mean—um, it’s just not the right type of living conditions.”
“Mmhmm.” I’ll pester her about that later. For now, we need to get the fuck out of here before someone figures out these two guys are dead.
Whoever the fuck they are.
