Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
TIMOTHY
I drove away from Sofia’s preschool after morning drop-off and didn’t slow until I hit the driveway five miles away. Deck’s place was a modest two-bedroom house in a newer development.
The back door was unlocked. It always was.
I let myself in without knocking.
The house was too quiet for a man who owed me answers. Why the hell wasn’t he up and getting off to the build site?
I walked straight to his bedroom and shoved the door open hard enough it cracked against the wall.
Deck jolted upright, eyes wild, hands already halfway up like he expected a fist.
Good instinct.
“Timothy.” His voice scraped dry.
I didn’t answer. Just stood there, arms loose at my sides, watching him.
He swallowed. Once. Twice. “I swear, we parted ways at the restaurant. I didn’t even shake her hand. Barely gave her an opening for a second date.”
I said nothing.
He dragged a hand down his face, already sweating.
“Barely… I mean, I won’t. She’s got incredible curves and those lips would make any straight man think of…
nothing.” He swallowed hard. “Thinking nothing. I met her at Finn’s Feed when I was grabbing a new Allen wrench set after I left mine at the site off Dixie Street.
That’s it. That’s all it was.” His words tripped over each other.
“I don’t know what you’ve got going with Gia, but—”
My jaw shifted. Barely. Enough.
He saw it.
His voice dropped. “I swear, nothing happened. Nothing will happen.”
Silence stretched. Long enough to make him feel it.
Then I spoke, calm and flat. “Get out of bed.”
Deck blinked. “What?”
“I need you downtown at the strip mall build to oversee things.” I held his gaze. Didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to. “Now.”
He reached for his phone, squinting at the screen. “It’s eight fucking—”
“Exactly.” I cut him off. I put the keys I got from him last night on his chest of drawers loud enough they made noise against the wood. “I need you to deal with it.”
“You said you’d do it. The contractor is a nightmare. They don’t want to give us space and are constantly questioning us.”
“I pay you enough to drag your ass out of bed before eight o’clock and deal with it.” I paused in the doorway, glancing back just once. “And Deck?”
He froze.
“If you thought there was something…” I let the rest hang there, unfinished. Didn’t need to say it.
His face drained of color.
I left before he could answer.
* * *
My next stop was twenty minutes out, down roads civilized people avoided out of fear of getting shot.
I pulled up to the gated road just off the north corner of my cousin’s property and hit the intercom next to the mailbox that had “M. Hurst” emblazoned on it in worn out white paint. Static crackled.
This land bordered the northern edge of our farm.
We'd sold it to the Hurst twins a decade ago so they could live in peace and isolation. A narrow trail connected this property to my parents’ farmhouse.
The fifteen-minute hike along the lake would be peaceful if the mosquitoes along that stretch weren’t vicious.
“I brought beer and frozen pizzas.” I knew he’d heard me. “And a sudoku book.”
“Cheese only?”
I glared into the camera. Of course that was his first question. Mark lived like a survivalist hermit. I’d seen him eat an entire squirrel barely cooked, but apparently, he still had dietary standards.
“Yes, Mark. Cheese only.”
The gate groaned open like it objected to visitors as much as he did.
I drove the gravel road deep into uncut forest until his cabin came into view—a rough wood structure tucked beside the lake.
Mark demolished his parent’s rickety house several years ago to build.
The rustic appearance hid high end security and every necessity to be off-grid with solar power, pump water, a functional chicken enclosure, and no neighbors.
No witnesses. Basically, this was Mark’s idea of heaven.
And exactly what we might need to deal with Jimmy McClary for good.
I grabbed the paper grocery bags from the truck and approached slowly. The last thing I wanted was to startle my cousin and end up shot.
The front door cracked open enough to let me in.
“You doing okay, Mark?”
He rubbed at a beard that hadn’t been cut or trimmed in a long time. I had no doubt he was armed with at least four weapons I couldn’t see. His eyes were red rimmed with dark circles carved deep beneath them from too many sleepless nights.
I worried about him. Which was exactly why I kept my tone casual. Concern made him retreat faster than a deer in hunting season.
“Why are you here, T?” he asked.
“Other than helping you avoid society by doing your grocery shopping?”
He grunted, which in Mark Hurst language was practically a hug.
As I set the groceries on the counter, familiar colors in the trash can caught my eye. “Is that,” I pointed, “a folded-up pizza box?”
Mark’s scowl deepened. “I know how to order food.”
I straightened slowly. “Online?”
“I have a fucking phone. Get over it.”
I bit back a laugh. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve discovered indoor plumbing and basic human companionship.”
“Don’t push it.”
A laugh escaped me. “Look at you clawing your way into modern conveniences.”
“Why are you here?” he repeated, crossing his arms and leveling me with a look so severe it could’ve soured milk.
I blew out a breath and let the humor leave with it. “Jimmy McClary is threatening the family.”
Mark’s lower jaw worked back and forth once. “How?”
“He’s getting aggressive again about our land though some bullshit lawsuit and…”
I stopped.
Mark’s eyes sharpened. “And what?”
Mark knew too much about me—had for years. He knew most of my ugly secrets. He even knew what made me skip so many days my senior year of high school.
“Gia’s back.”
His eyebrows shot up. Then he smiled.
“Oh, hell.” Mark leaned against the counter.
His grin got wider. “That girl had you so twisted up back in the day. I mean, there were the easy girls who’d suck you off in the gym, but then there was Gia.
She was a whole other level for you. I recall a time you almost broke my nose when I mentioned her tits. ”
I scowled.
He smirked. “What’s it like with her now?”
“It’s bad,” I admitted, hanging my head. “Real bad.”
“Like bad bad? Or like you’re still twisted up bad?”
“She…” I blinked and couldn’t look him in the eye. “She was out at the farm dealing with Dad’s bitchy llama. She peeled off her coveralls to a tight white top and…shit, I…”
Mark barked out a laugh. “She’s been gone half your life and you’re still not over her.”
“In my defense, she was pretty way back then. Now…” I dropped my chin. That traitorous memory of her breasts in the wet shirt flashed in my head. “She’s so fucking everything, but…” I paused and rasped out, “Jimmy hurt her again. Like he used to. She was all bruised up.”
The room went still.
Mark’s expression hardened into something cold. “Sounds like his M.O.”
I looked at him. “My mom asked me to come out to talk with you. She’s worried. Thinks this time he’s going too far. Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Aunt Lisa’s asking for help?” He nodded. “Then, let’s end this motherfucker.”
“My plan will require a shower, a razor, and pants that won’t frighten wildlife.”
Mark looked offended. “These are good pants.”
“They’re camouflage pajama bottoms.”
“They’re tactical.”
I held his stare. “You’ll have to go undercover like you did when you were overseas working for whatever government organization got your leg busted and you discharged.
You’ll have to change your name. Or maybe just your last name.
No one’s seen you in so long that if you cleaned up, I bet Jimmy wouldn’t recognize you. Hell, my own mother probably wouldn’t.”
“Couldn’t fool Aunt Lisa. Nothing gets past her.”
“I also need you to convince Jackson to come out of hiding from wherever he is. You’re going to want back up. Perhaps, he can dig up some new shit on Jimmy or figure out what Jimmy has now that allows him to sue us.”
“Jackie disappeared on a SEAL mission a few months ago. I don’t hear much from him.” Atypical worry passed across Mark’s face.
“A mission? He told me he was quitting at your mom’s funeral.”
Mark's twin was more controlled than Mark, which made him a hell of a lot more dangerous. After he'd come home riddled with bullet holes doing God knew what a few years ago, it'd taken him three months just to walk again.
“He never said he was quitting the SEALs or whatever they've got him wrapped up in now.” Mark let out a humorless laugh.
“That was me telling you I'd asked him to retire. Not that he listened.” He shrugged.
“He's going to die if he keeps this up. No doubt in my mind.” His gaze drifted across the lake, squinting as though he could see something far beyond the water.
“He stays away because he's running from ghosts.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“After Mom died from that stroke last year... and with Dad in prison...” His mouth twisted. Then, almost absently, he added, “And with the only woman who ever understood him running in the other direction, he's got no reason to come home.”
“I’m calling him.”
Mark shrugged.
I yanked my phone out before I could think better of it and hit dial. The line clicked.
“What?” Not hello. Not who is this. Just one flat, irritated word that sounded like it came from an echoing tunnel.
“I’m going after Jimmy McClary,” I said. “Need your help. He’s threatening the family.” I glanced at Mark. “Mark’s crawling out of his cave and might even put on real pants for the occasion. You in?”
For a second, all I heard was static.
Jackson’s tone had taken on a hollow, deadly sound that put me on edge. “I’m not in the country but I can possibly make it happen to be there. What do you need?”
“Everything.” I paced toward the window, staring out over a creek that branched off the lake and crawled by the house. “I want you digging into every corner of his life. Accounts. Friends. Mistresses. Habits. I don’t care. Find me the thing he’d crawl through broken glass to protect.”
Jackson made a disappointed sound. “Aw, hell. Was hoping for something simpler. Accidents are easier and faster.”
I tightened my grip on the phone hard enough it creaked.
“Accidents let him off without suffering. I want him awake for the hurt.” My voice dropped.
“Help me find his weak spot. It sure as hell isn’t his wife.
It ain’t his dying daughter or Gia or the farm.
” I swallowed the bitterness coating my throat.
“Every man loves something. I want to know what it is.”
Silence.
Jackson made a noncommittal grunt. “Jimmy McClary has always been gunning for us. What’s lit a fire under your ass? Why should I go AWOL over what might be another disappointing dead end to get him?”
“He put his hands on Gia again. Bruised her up.” Softly I added, “She’s back.”
There was a long pause before he said low, “I’m in. No one fucks with the family or Gia.”