Comin' Home to You (19 page)

Owen stared at the blade in his hand. He hadn’t sharpened it in some time, and specks of rust started to accumulate on the steel. But the blade was sharp enough. The point could penetrate skin deeply. That’s all he needed. Taking one final breath of reassurance, he pounced like a cat and mounted Clint, using his knees to pin down Clint’s arms. A devious smile grew over his face as he looked upon his prey. He didn't dare look at Ali. She had not screamed for him to stop yet, though he wasn't sure if she could see the knife in his hand. Even if she did plead for him to spare Clint, he couldn’t. There was no turning back now.

Clint still squirmed as hard as he could, but there was no escaping the leverage Owen had upon him. Even as weak as he was, it would be difficult for even a stronger man such as Scar to maneuver out. His attempts at freeing himself ceased when he noticed the blade in Owen’s hand.

“What the fuck you gonna do with that?” asked Clint. His tone still contained a hint of cockiness.

“I think you know damn well what I’m gonna do with this.”

“You ain't got the guts, pussy.”

Owen had no time to prepare for the sudden wad of spit from Clint’s mouth. Most of it got on his nose, but the fact that he could taste some of it on his lips and open mouth silently infuriated him. All it did, however, was reinforce Owen’s murderous will. He was going to delight in this slaughter. It enthralled him so that he just had to let Clint know how much this meant to him.

“Oh...I'm going to kill you the same way I killed your brother Roy.”

Clint’s eyes widened as Owen slowly raised his knife. Spilling the secret made Clint the second person to know Roy’s fate. Ben had known for a long time, even before he started his police career. Fortunately for Owen, Ben would remain the only person to hold that secret. Clint was going to take this knowledge to his grave. His eyes remained so wide that a hankering to stab him right in the pupils came over Owen.

As he committed himself to ending this, a creaking sound was heard, followed by the slamming of a vehicle door. Owen was so wrapped up in the moment that he never heard the truck pull up in the driveway. Before he could turn around, a young voice echoed loudly into the still bright evening.

“Grandpa!”

Everything about him froze. His hand holding the knife. His lungs that gave him air. His heart skipped a beat. That was a voice he didn’t want to hear at this time. Owen couldn't bear to turn around and look his grandson in the eye. He didn’t want to see his expression, but he did wonder what it was. Was he shocked? Appalled? Unclear as to what was even going on? Whatever it was, he didn’t dare turn around.

There was no way he could do this anymore. Nothing could crush Austin’s spirit more than by witnessing his grandfather murder his father. Nervously, he lowered his knife and looked at Clint’s face. His eyes were no longer surprised or scared. Instead, they were back to the cocky and brash look that he usually exhibited. He was also devilishly smiling from ear to ear.

“Told ya you didn’t have the guts.”

Owen never heard the footsteps behind him. What felt like a vice grip clamped on to his sensitive neck, and in a flash, he was thrown off of Clint like a rag doll. He hit the ground with a sickening thud and rolled ten feet away before his momentum finally ceased. The back of his neck throbbed from the pressure that was placed on it, and his shoulders ached from the impact of the toss. There was no time to process the pain. Swiftly, Owen was once again yanked up by his neck into a practical standing position. He should have known who the brute was that was playing with him like a toy.

“What are you trying to do with my brother?” calmly asked Scar. His lack of emotion was frightening.

Owen’s panic escalated after noticing the knife was no longer in his hand. He gulped loudly. “Just having a chat.”

“Looked like you were tryin' to kill him.”

“Now why would I do that to my future son-in-law?”

Scar gently smiled, then unleashed a powerful punch into the gut of Owen. He had taken his fair share of punches in his day, but that shot, combined with his already weak stomach, was one of the most intense pains he had ever felt. He would have crumbled to the grass had Scar let him go. Instead, he started coughing to no end.

Mid-cough, he was blindsided by another swift punch, this one to the face. It felt weaker, and after he came to, he noticed Clint was back up and standing to his side. It hurt, but compared to Scar’s punches that felt like a medieval flail, Clint’s punches were more than welcome to take the place of his older brother’s blows.

“How you like that, you pussy ass bitch!?” boomed an elated Clint.

“Dad! Uncle Scar! Why did you hit grandpa? What the hell?” screamed Austin, while running toward the group of men.

Scar turned his head hastily. “Austin! Get back to your mom, now!”

“Grandpa!”

“Austin,” muttered Owen, just loud enough to where Austin could hear. “Do what he says.”

Slowly backing away and utterly confused, Austin went back to his mother, who embraced her son warmly. It had been a long time since Owen observed Ali hold her son with actual love. While his vision was a little fuzzy, he could see black streaks of mascara run down his daughter’s face. Who had she cried for? She hadn’t screamed for Clint to beat his ass, which she has before in drunken rages years back. This was different. This was genuine concern. She probably didn’t want to see her father die, but she definitely didn’t want Austin to have such a gruesome memory burned into his mind forever.

Picking up Owen’s knife that got away from him, Clint had a self-assured grin on his face. “Hey bro, you know what he said to me?”

“What's that?”

“He said he killed Roy. He fucking admitted it.”

Owen expected Scar's eyes to light up like the Fourth of July, but instead, they seemed glum. It was almost like this was news he expected all along, and now that he received the word, a calm sense of closure came over them. “So, he’s dead?”

“That's what I just said, Scar. I just told-”

“I'm asking him, Clint.”

Owen replied by saying nothing.

A smirk appeared on Scar's face. “Fair enough.”

Scar delivered another blow to Owen's gut. The shockwave of the blow put him to his knees and made him lose his lunch, along with more bitter bile that he hadn’t become used to tasting. Even through the brutal pain, he wished some of the vomit had got on Scar, but he stepped to the side, as if expecting it.

Carefully looking around, Scar realized their neighborhood surroundings. Scar was a brute, but he had a brain on him, unlike his younger brother. “Clint, throw him in the back of my truck, alright? We need to take him somewhere else.”

“The fuck? Why don't you do it?”

Instead of answering, Scar crossed his arms menacingly. Understanding the message, Clint dragged Owen toward the truck. He wanted to struggle away from Clint’s grasp. He wasn't unconscious, but the gut punch put his body in a virtual stasis. Owen felt like he was living through someone else’s eyes.

While Clint was stout and sturdy, dragging Owen's dead weight was a chore. His slow pace allowed Ali to frantically stop him halfway to the truck.

“What are you doing with him!? Stop!”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Ali.”

“No! What the fuck are you doing? You better-”

“I said get the fuck out of the way, bitch!”

Scar briskly walked to Clint. “Hey, don’t be calling her that.”

“I’ll call her whatever the fuck I want!”

Ignoring Clint, Scar asked nicely. “Ali, move.”

“NO! You’re going to kill him! Hell no!”

“Get the fuck out of the way!” screamed Clint. “I ain’t gonna tell you again, cunt!”

Scar bowed up to Clint in surprise. “I thought I told you to stop!”

Even through the commotion, only Owen noticed Austin’s tears. The two locked eyes. Despite the pain, Owen gave his grandson a warm smile. It was all he could do to make it seem like it would be alright.

Owen suddenly fell to the ground as Clint dropped him. “Motherfucker, don’t be bowing up to me!”

Scar had a look of astonishment on his face. “What did you call me, little boy?”

“Man, don’t be calling me little. I’ll fuck you up.”

“BOTH OF YOU STOP!” shrieked Ali. “This is bullshit! Stop this-”

Her voice was interrupted and drowned out by the loud engine of a car driving toward the house at a high speed. Almost as if the driver realized this is where he needed to stop, the vehicle slammed on its brakes noisily against the gravel of the road. Owen raised his head up just enough to see that it was an Adrienne police vehicle. More importantly, it was his brother's car. Owen enjoyed the sense of relief that came over him. He was saved.

Ben wasted no time opening the driver’s side door and drawing his firearm. “NO ONE MOVE! HANDS UP!” he screamed.

His partner stepped out of the passenger door and followed suit. His gun was aimed directly at Scar, though compared to Ben’s strong and calm demeanor, his seemed a little shaky.

“Well hell, how’s it goin’ Ben? What brings you here?” inquired Scar. There was no hesitation in his voice. He was probably used to talking to law enforcement. Following orders precisely, he put his hands up.

“It's Captain Tomkins. Don't call me by my first name again.”

Scar just grinned and scratched his head, one arm still partially in the air. “Sorry, boss man. I mean, Captain Tomkins. Now what we can do for such a fine officer of the law such as yourself?”

“You can step away from Owen for starters.”

“Man, fuck you,” answered a defiant Clint.

Ben’s handgun was aimed directly at Clint’s chest. “I ain’t going to tell you again. Move away from him now.”

“You’re gonna have to make me, officer.”

Scar knew exactly when to cease snide comments to the authority. “Clint, do what he says.”

Clint really didn’t want to. It was like pulling teeth for him to step away from Owen. But finally, he took two steps back. Ben’s partner quickly swooped in, braced Owen’s arm over his shoulders, and slowly walked to the squad car.

Noticing the disobedient Clint keeping his hands in his pockets, Ben trained his gun at him. “I said put your hands up.”

“My hands are cold.”

“It’s 90 fucking degrees. Don’t give me any shit, Clint. Put your hands up.”

“Nah, I think I’m good.”

Scar glanced at Ben for a short time. He knew him well enough to know that play time was over. “Clint, put your god damn hands up.”

“I ain’t takin’ orders from you. Shut the fuck up.”

Scar squinted. “You bein’ serious right now? Put your fucking hands up.”

“Shit, he ain’t going to shoot me. Them Tomkins are a cryin’ bunch of bitches.”

Ben grit his teeth so loud that even Owen’s barely conscious ears could hear it. “Scar. I’ll give you a few seconds to shut your brother up. Otherwise, I’m giving him my final warning.”

“He hasn’t threatened you.”

Ben kept his voice quiet so that only those in front of him could hear it. “Right now I don’t give a fuck.”

Scar acknowledged Ben’s vulgar warning. His face showed alarm. “Do what he says, Clint.”

“Fuck that!”

“I don’t need the pain of having two dead brothers right now. Do what he says!”

Biting his lip to keep in his anger, Clint put his arms up at a snail’s pace. He kept his hands up, though his middle fingers were up.

“Why are you here anyway?” asked Scar.

“An officer caught Owen speeding, that’s all.”

The other officer gently eased the beat-up Owen into the backseat of the patrol car. Backing away with his gun steady at both Clint and Scar, Ben opened the driver door. Before he entered, he glanced at Ali and Austin. Both looked petrified, with tears in their eyes. His face showed great concern before he entered the car. Leaving his niece and great-nephew alone with Scar and Clint troubled him, but there wasn’t anything he could do legally. Getting his brother out of there was all he could do.

Owen’s body ached badly. His mind was scatterbrained and barely functioning. Lying in the back seat in a fetal position, he could feel the car drive away. Instantly, his brain perked up along with his pained body.

“Woah, what the fuck? We can’t leave Ali and Austin!”

“Nothing I can do,” replied a mellow Ben.

“Turn the fuck around!”

“Owen, there’s nothing I can do.”

Trying to scream and plead his case, Owen realized how bad he was hurting. A pained groan escaped from his mouth.

Ben kept a straight face. “Brother, I can’t just take Austin and Ali away.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a domestic issue. Hell, I came here because your stupid ass got caught speeding, and Taylor asked me to find Austin. I didn’t expect to see you with your ass beat to shit.”

Owen’s stomach hurt so badly that his voice came out quieter than he wanted. Yet, he painfully spoke what he could. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, Owen. Fuck me. If we hadn’t showed up, Clint and Scar would probably be soldering your asshole with a hot iron rod. You should be thanking me.”