Read Online Hunting Season by Erik Williams - Free Book Online

negotiating tools on me."
    He didn't need to say anymore.  Dad carried a .357 and a switchblade all the time.  The gun didn't scare me because Dad wasn't dumb enough to pull it in front of a prison.  But I knew he wouldn't hesitate to gut me and leave me to die where I stood.
    "Why all the talk of going legit?" I said.  "Why not threaten me right off the bat?"
    "Because I wanted to get you in the car nicely.  Wanted to maintain a civil tone out in front of this nice prison."
    "God damn you."
    "Get in the car."
    "You mother fucker."
    "Get in."
    My fists clenched, ready to fight.  But I knew my dad.  Nothing had changed about him.  Which meant he had the switchblade ready.  Knew he'd split me from my belly to my dick if I made one ill move.  Then he'd kill the whore for good measure.
    I looked at her, saw the panic in her eyes, and then thought of his knife and accepted the son of a bitch had me cornered.
    "Get in."
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    Dad drove at a safe speed down wooded County Road 9.  I tapped my thigh and tried to figure a way out of this mess.  Needed to get out of this without getting any blood on my hands.  Couldn't risk another stint in the joint.  The whore moaned in the back.
    Not once had Dad made reference to the money.  Maybe he didn't know.  After all, he never reached out while inside.  But then why use the whore to get to me?  He knew I didn't give a shit about her or anyone else.  The only person I had connections to was him and I wanted those severed as soon as possible.
    "Who's the whore?" I said, probing for any hint.
    "Hooker, son.  Whores do it for free."
    "And what does she have to do with whatever you're doing?"
    "It's a simple matter of trust.  I don't trust you."
    "I did five years in prison.  Isn't that enough assurance?"
    "No."
    "God damn it, I took the rap for you.  Five fucking years for what you did.  That should be enough proof I want this dead and buried with that poor bastard you ran down."
    "I need to keep you close, son.  You doing time in the joint ain't got nothing to do with me."
    "I was there for you."
    "You were there for you.  You didn't rat me out because you felt guilty.  Because you didn't stop me.  You believed you deserved punishment for letting me drive my truck through Walter's chest."
    "I didn't let you do anything.  Walter was all you."
    Dad chuckled.  "Yeah, you did.  You knew god damn well why I was going to see Walter.  And you knew damn well what I'd do to him.  It wasn't the first time you'd seen me take it out on someone who couldn't pay."
    "I knew you'd be dead the moment they put you in the pen.  All the enemies you've got almost got me killed just for sharing the same name.  I saved your life."
    "I know what you did and it didn't have anything to do with me.  Doing time was your penitence.  Doing your full sentence was your ticket to freedom but I can't let you go."
    "Fuck you."  And your mind games.  Dad kept his cards close to his chest and spun webs like a bullshit spider.
    "If you did it for me, if you did it to protect me, then you shouldn't feel any ill will toward your dear old dad or mind sticking around and hanging out with him.  After all, it was such a selfless act.  Yet you're ready to jump on the first bus out of town.  Can you say you feel no ill will toward me?  Can you say you love me?"
    "No."  Whatever game he decided to play, he'd decided to string it out rather than cut to the chase.
    "You see, you went to prison a guilty wreck, sorry for what you did.  Took the rap.  Vehicular manslaughter.  Dark foggy night and Walter high out of his mind.  Your baby face sold that bullshit to the jury.  But you thought you deserved more, not less.  In the joint, you found God, Buddha, or maybe learned to love a man in a spiritual way.  Now you're a changed man.  You did your time and made peace with yourself and decided when you got out you'd leave for good.  But you still know stuff about me."
    "What do