Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
LoneStar
“Is she coming back?” Slayer asks, glancing over at me. It’s now nighttime, and the men have all congregated around the campfire.
“Not yet,” I answer, taking a large gulp of my beer, attempting to get the foul taste out of my mouth. I know the hard truths I gave her hit her like a wrecking ball, but they were necessary. “But she will. Says she needs some time to get things right in her head first.”
He sends me a ‘told you so’ look as Riptide takes the empty seat to my left, sighing. “Talked to Gemini,” he blurts out, a cold, calculated look plastered on his face. “They figured out what’s going on in their neck of the woods.”
Slayer leans forward in his seat, elbows dug into his thighs as he leans around me so he can see Rip better. “What’s that?”
“They have a human hunting ring on their hands,” Riptide says, his face souring further as the words fall from his tongue.
“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” I ask, my shoulders tensing. Surely the fuck I heard him wrong. People are sick, I get that, but this is some made for television bullshit.
“They’ve found two survivors,” Rip continues. “One being Skippy.”
“Sutton’s friend?” I inquire. I met her briefly during my time in Montana, she seems like a good girl. It makes my stomach churn thinking that someone I’ve met became a victim of predators with such malicious intent.
“That’s the one,” Rip cautiously informs me. “She’s in a coma, had some head trauma, bullet wounds, and someone played a game of archery with her and she was their target.”
“Jesus fuck,” I spit out, removing my cowboy hat and combing my fingers through my hair. “That’s messed up, Rip.”
“Your friend, Orbit, has uncovered some shit that is going to bring down hell on their state,” Rip apprises. “It goes high up on the food chain.”
“The law’s involved in that bullshit?” Slayer asks incredulously, shaking his head. “What is it with people who are elected into office? They think they’re above the law just because they carry a badge.”
“Higher,” Rip states, nodding his head. “All the way to the top.”
“So it’s throughout the entire state of Montana, not just in their town?” I ask, fishing for more information.
“Seems like,” he confirms. “From what Gemini shared, it’s spread from one end of the state to the other.”
“What are they gonna do, Rip?” I question.
“Take them out starting from within their area and working their way out,” Rip states, kicking his feet up and placing them on the cooler. “They know that fuckwit that’s stalking Sutton is involved, but get this, they can now tie it to the grandfather as well.”
“The CEO of the hospital?” I ask, whistling. “If you think about it, he’s in the right position to find their next prey. He sees all of the intake paperwork and knows who has people out there that’d be looking for them and those who don’t.”
“They’re gonna need to set up safe houses for the girls that survived that twisted hunting game,” Slayer advises. “They’re loose ends who can identify those involved.”
“Only if they hear the hunters’ voices because any time they entered the shack where the girls were kept, they wore disguises,” Riptide tells us.
My eyes cross as the implication of what Gemini and his guys are dealing with hits home. Basically, the guys are up shit creek without a paddle. I hope to fuck they can swim without life preservers because if not, they’re going to drown. “So they kept them until they were ready to chase them?”
“Yep,” Rip answers, popping his P. “They gave them just enough food and water to keep them alive.”
“They kept them weak, easier to track and hunt,” Slayer muses. “That’s some sick shit right there.”
“They gave them hope knowing their chance of survival was slim,” I add.
“How are they going to take this group out?” Slayer inquires. “If it goes to the top, as you’ve said it does, who’s that leave to turn the information they’ve uncovered in to?”
“That’s the true question, isn’t it?” Riptide ponders.
“If it’s spread throughout the state, even the alphabet authorities are out,” I remark.
“If we get all the techies together they could probably figure out who’s dirty and who’s clean,” Slayer suggests. “If they work together in tandem, it shouldn’t take them long.”
“The problem is, it’s like a spider’s web. Sticky, thick, and ever-growing,” I say, sighing.
“What does Rio think about this?” Slayer asks Rip.
“Same as I do,” Rip announces. “This isn’t going to be an easy fix and it’s gonna take some time to unearth the entire conglomerate.
This isn’t a new organization, they’re too coordinated for that to be true.
The thing we need to figure out is how long has it been going on for and how far does it stretch. ”
“I hope they’ve got good stamina because this could take years, if not decades, to unravel,” I say, commiserating with them. “They’ll need to cover their tracks, because if those fuckers find out they’re being looked into, they will retaliate.”
Two days pass before I hear from Britton again. When I see her name flash across the screen, a satisfied smile crosses my face. “Britton,” I answer.
“Hey,” she whispers. “Just calling and checking in like I promised I would.”
“Appreciate it. What have you been up to?” I ask, wanting to carry on with this call for as long as I can. I miss her, even if she’s pissed me off. I want to prove to her that no matter what, I’m here for her, she hasn’t had much of that in her lifetime and it’s something I can give her.
She sighs before confessing, “I have another secret. It’s one that only Jersey knows about me.”
That piques my interest, making my earlier inquisition about what she’s been up to flee from my mind. “What’s that?”
“If I trust you with this, do you promise to keep it to yourself? I’m only asking because I’m not ready for anyone to find out.”
“You can trust me, Britton. If you ask me to keep something a secret, then I will. As long as it doesn’t hurt the club or you,” I point out.
“Nobody will be hurt by this, I swear,” she avows. “It’s just something I’d like to keep between us, at least, for now.”
Walking out of the common room where prying ears are since there’s a card game going on between the brothers, I state, “Then tell me your secret, sweetheart.” I make it up the stairs, unlock my room, stroll inside, and sit on the edge of my mattress, getting as far away from my nosy ass brothers as I can.
“Have you ever wondered what I do for a living, LoneStar?”
“The thought crossed my mind a time or two, I just figured whatever it was you did remotely,” I answer.
“I’ve seen you on Jersey’s porch with your laptop in hand.
I didn’t want to pry, figured if it was something you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.
I’m aware I need to earn your trust, Britton, you’ve been bitten by too many people so I’ve been biding my time until I’ve proven myself to you. ”
“There are reasons I haven’t shouted from the rooftops what I do.
Not because I’m embarrassed by it, but because I don’t want my parents to discover it,” she explains.
“They aren’t just neglectful and abusive, they’re driven by money and if they know what I do, they’ll think I have plenty of it in abundance. ”
“Now you’ve got me curious, darlin’,” I convey. “You gonna keep me in suspense?”
“Okay, here it goes. I’m a romance author,” she confesses.
My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline as I take in her admission. “Like sex? Do you write porn, Britton?” I ask in a teasing tone.
She hums before laughing. “It’s called smut, LoneStar,” she corrects me.
“Yes, and no. My stories are more about the couple fighting against the odds and coming together. I like the grit and the angst. Yes, sex is an important part of relationships, I’m not discounting that nor am I demeaning the authors who make it a necessary part of their characters’ foundation.
But for me, if a couple’s story is based solely around that carnal chemistry, there’s no depth to who they are as individuals or as a couple.
That’s just my personal take on it, but kudos to those who can make it work along with the details of the story, it’s just not how I do it.
I want my readers to fall in love with my characters, I want them to celebrate alongside them as they face challenges and come out the victors, not needing their vibrators to ease the ache between their legs.
If they need that, they can hit up one of the pornographic streaming sites to ease that itch. ”
“But doesn’t sex sell better than the standard romance book?” I ask, curious about what she’s against it.
“Readers have various tastes. They’re eclectic, smart, and like to shake things up.
They’ll read a book full of raw passion, then switch gears and find something that pulls at their heartstrings.
It’s why I love what I do. All of us authors are unique in the way we tell stories, we can let our imaginations run wild.
Some of us narrate the stories and some of us tell it from our characters’ point of view.
I’m not only an author, though, I’m an avid reader so I know how it is to be drawn to one genre then finding another one that makes my soul sing. ”
“Do you read books that are sex based?” I inquire, wanting further insight into her as a person and understanding her profession.
“Yes,” she admits. “Just because I don’t write a sex scene in every other chapter, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading them.
Some people have a knack for writing them, and some don’t.
I fall in the second category. I’ll give one, maybe two, in my books, but there’s so much going on with my town and the people in it that it’d deter from the story I’m trying to tell. ”
“Like what? What do you have going on that’s so important that the man isn’t getting his dick wet on a regular basis?” I ask, taunting her.
“You want a list?” she asks, her laughter ringing through the receiver.
“Would be interested in knowing how you can write an entire romance book without the couple getting down and dirty more than once or twice,” I respond.