Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
G RANT
Jack and Sam, two of my security team who work for the Horsemen, follow me up the narrow walkway to the back of Officer Spencer’s house. Levi already did the research and asked around, confirming that he works the night shift and that the white Camaro we passed in the drive is his. He’s also divorced, and she has custody of the kids, so we don’t have to worry about any other family disturbing our meeting this morning.
We walk up the aging steps of his back deck, and I nod for Sam to make his way around to the master bedroom window. It’s half-open, letting in the cool morning air, and I want him ready in case we have to choose an alternate entry point. Then I rap my knuckles on the back door.
Sam confirms the sound of movement in the master bedroom with a nod, and Jack presses his body up against the side of the house so he’s out of view as I hear footsteps through the house. A disheveled mop of hair presses against the glass of one of the windows, peering out at me, and then I hear the sound of his footfalls approaching the door. It opens a moment later, and he answers with a sneer.
“What the fuck do you want? Do you know what time it is?” he bitches immediately, and we’re already off to a bad start.
“Not a very polite way to answer the door to company.” I make a disapproving sound at the back of my throat.
“I got better ones.” He pulls his hand from behind the door frame and waves a gun back and forth before he narrows in on me, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.
Jack doesn’t hesitate, reaching around to grab his wrist and bend it over the frame. It forces him to drop the gun, and it clatters to the ground. He goes to reach for Jack with his free hand, and I catch it, making him stumble out the door and onto the deck with both of us. He grunts and struggles, his bare feet searching for purchase before Jack kicks his legs out from under him. He stumbles face-first onto the deck, smashing into it with his nose as we yank his arms back behind him.
“Fuck you!! Who the fuck do you think you are?” he curses as blood smears on the deck from his face, and he fights the pressure we exert on his shoulder blades. It’s a useless attempt to buy time as Jack’s knee goes into his spine and mine goes to the back of his neck.
Sam arrives just in time to put the cuffs on his wrists, which are crossed behind his back, and pin his ankles with a booted foot.
“Trying to shoot us when we merely knock on the door sounds a lot like unlawful use of force, Michael. The kind of thing that I might answer with force to protect my life.” I grind the heel of my boot into the back of his neck. “Especially when you come on my property and rough up women. Are you that pathetic, you little prick? You have to toss women around and beat them up to feel like a man?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He grits out the words, clearly feeling the pain that we’re doling out.
“You can’t remember last night? Harassing some poor woman at a bar?”
“That slut who’s spitting whiskey for attention? She deserved what she had coming. Dumb fucking cunt wouldn’t listen.”
“Nah, Michael. I think you’re confused. You’re the dumb cunt not listening.”
Jack and Sam roll him over for me, and I kick him hard in the balls, making him curl up into the fetal position as his face turns bright red, and he rocks back and forth. It takes him a minute to respond, cursing under his breath and telling me to go fuck myself before he can form real words again. But he hasn’t learned his lesson. He starts over again.
“You fucking asshole. All this for that bitch? You know she’s probably been run through by half the men in that bar.”
“Wrong fucking answer.” I shake my head. “I don’t think you’re learning your lesson here, Michael. We need less talking and more listening. But maybe I can help you with that.”
I strike him hard in his windpipe. He wheezes and gasps for air. Trying and failing to grasp his throat with his hands as he tries to wiggle them out of the cuffs behind his back.
“Oh damn. I’m fucking sorry. Did that make it hard to breathe?” I taunt him.
“Fuck you.” He sputters, rolling over to his side, but he quits mouthing off, blood still trickling down his face from his nose.
“I want to be very clear that you don’t touch women like that ever, but you especially don’t touch women in my town that way. My family, my property, my friends, my fucking barista—I don’t fucking care. I see it, and I will bring it back to you ten fucking fold. Do you hear me?” I crouch down to his level, making sure he can hear every word.
“Fuck you.” It’s a raspy whisper now, and he spits out a mouthful of blood. Apparently, his vocabulary is limited.
I hold out my hand for the expandable baton Sam’s pulled out of its case. He hands it to me, and it makes a beautiful sound as I shake it to its full length. Spencer’s eyes go to the weapon. One I’m positive he and his ilk are familiar with.
“But since it seems like a calm exchange of ideas isn’t your strong suit, I figure I better give you a more permanent lesson in what I mean. A little more violent since that’s your communication style.” I grin at him before I stand and draw the weapon back. “You bruise her knees, I fucking break yours.” I crack it down hard—once on his left and again on his right. The bone-crushing sound it makes is one of the more satisfying ones I’ve heard in my life. He screams bloody murder, and Jack shoves a towel into his mouth to silence him. This house is off a country road, and I don’t see any close neighbors, but one can never be too cautious.
“And if you scrape her leg dragging her off a counter? Well…” I pull the switchblade out of my suit pocket and knock the blade loose from her sheath. “Then I’m going to carve that same line into your flesh as a reminder to be more careful the next time.” I stab him just above his knee and drag the blade up his thigh, careful not to cut too deep. He screams then, muffled by the rag Jack presses tight. Tears stream from the corners of his eyes, and his whole chest is racked with sobs from the pain I’ve exacted.
I watch him writhe in agony for a moment, committing the scene to memory. It’s only a hint of the satisfaction I want for what he did to her, for any confidence he might have stolen or any humiliation he might have inflicted, but it’ll have to do since I can’t kill him.
“Now, I’m going to go talk to your boss and let him know you’re gonna need some time off from work to heal because we all got a little jumpy when you pulled a gun on us. I’ll let the two of you work out whether that’s a paid leave or not, so long as I never see you step foot on my property again.” I wipe my blade off on his clothes and tuck it back into my pocket. “And before you think of doing anything rash, remember I don’t give a fuck about that badge and there are much much worse things than death.”
My uncle’s office tries to play coy about where he is until I repeat my last name like it’s a demand, and they finally locate him for me. He leaves me waiting for a good twenty minutes before he lets me in, which is his boy’s loss considering he’s the one bleeding and broken on the deck.
“Good morning, Grant. It’s been a while.” He points to the seats across from his desk where we can sit down without five hundred pounds of wood between us. I don’t know that it would be my choice if I were him, but if he wants to act like we’re family again—I can play that game.
“Morning, Uncle. It has been a bit since we’ve gotten to chat like this. I appreciate you making time in your schedule.”
“Of course. Anything for one of Jacob’s sons.” He smiles wide like he truly cares. I wonder if he ever did. All those holidays when we were kids. All those late nights playing cards and drinking beer with my father. Camping trips. I can’t imagine up and disappearing on Ramsey or Levi’s kids if they ever needed me, and the same goes for my niece, Fallon. I’d do anything I could to help. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”
“Well, a bit of unpleasant business first. One of your boys got a little wild at my bar in Purgatory Falls.”
“The Avarice?”
“Seven Sins.”
“I thought that was owned by the Hartfields?”
“The business, yes. The building is mine.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And you know how we are in this family. Very sensitive about the way people treat things that belong to us.”
“I’m aware of that sentiment.”
“So you’ll understand my disappointment. Did you send them?”
“Send cops to the bar?” His brows knit together in confusion, and it’s unfortunate I don’t know him well enough anymore to determine whether or not it’s fake. “I can’t say that I did. They might have been in the area. I’ve asked them to crack down on some of the rowdiness after hours. We keep getting a lot of reports about out-of-towners making a mess of the place and running the locals out of the places they love. Doesn’t seem like a good model for the future.”
“Ah well. They took that mandate a little too far. One of your guys roughed up one of the women, the owner actually, and I don’t care for men who put their hands on women. Badge or no badge.”
“I don’t blame you there. I’d do the same.” It’s a warning as much as it is an agreement.
“I’m glad we see eye to eye because on the way over, I made a little pit stop to chat with one of your officers. Unfortunately, when I knocked on the door, he pulled a gun on me, and well… you know Colorado law better than anyone.” I lean back in the chair and give him a pointed look .
“He still breathing?”
“He was when I left him, but I imagine he’ll need a little help and a couple of weeks’ leave to really process our discussion.”
“I see.”
“Truly hoping he takes it to heart. I’d hate to fucking hear he put his hands on another woman. Particularly someone I hold in such high esteem.” I stare at my uncle and wait for his reaction. I’m a betting man, but there’s always a risk when you run with a hand like this one.
“I’ll make sure he gets it. Did you say the officer’s name?”
“Spencer, I believe it was.”
He pulls out his phone and fires off a text before he returns his attention to our conversation.
“We’ll get him some help, and I’ll see to it that he’s not in a position to bother any women any time soon.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Was there anything else you needed?” He lifts a gray brow in expectation.
“I wanted to make sure you knew you were invited to the wedding. It’s coming up pretty fast, but we didn’t know you’d be in town until recently. We’d love to have you there. Figure we could get caught up. You could bring a date.”
“I’d love to come. I’ve missed out on so much over the last few years. It would be great to catch up and be there for Ramsey. I know he must miss my brother. The two of them were so close.” He fakes another smile.
It’s an underhanded jab on his part to work that last bit in. It was never lost on anyone that Ramsey was the baby and the favorite, but I also never let that change the way I felt about my father. Ramsey was easy to love, and I wasn’t. He was going to go off and play football, and I was going to stay and protect this family. My father needed me to be a legacy, not lovable .
“He does. Quite a bit. I know he’d be happy to see you. Levi and Aspen too.”
“Ah, the whole family is coming then?” He seems a little surprised at that information.
“Yes. Your great niece as well. She’s nearly in college. It’s hard to believe.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to it then. I’ll give you my number, and you can send me the details.” He pulls a card out from his pocket.
“Hopefully, you’ll have the time off with the new position and all.”
“I’ll make time for family.” His smile widens.
“Well then, I’ll let you go in the meantime. Let you get back to your work, and I can get back to mine. Less interference for us both in the future.”
“Let’s hope.” He walks me to the door, and we exchange one last set of goodbyes before I head back off to check in on Dakota.