Chapter 25
Connor
Asudden racket woke me from my sleep. I sat bolt upright in bed, trying desperately to blink the sleep out of my eyes and figure out what the hell was going on.
As my eyes finally focused, I found myself staring at the silhouette of Pete standing in the doorway to the bunkhouse, an old rusty dinner triangle in his hands.
He was beating the every-living shit out of it to wake everyone up.
“Rise and shine, motherfuckers,” he cried, his words slightly slurred. “Time to get to work!”
Judging by the slurring, the wild hair, and the bloodshot eyes, Pete had never gone to bed last night after his explosion down at the church.
Instead, it seemed like he’d stayed up all night drinking and now planned to make our lives a living hell.
The others roused, all of them just as confused as I was.
“No breakfast today,” Pete laughed. “You’re going straight to the southern fence line and replacing the entire goddamn thing.” He paused for only a moment to take in our startled faces. “And if you don’t get your asses moving, you’ll be on the truck back to prison before lunch.”
I scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over my own feet. The other guys were doing the same, cursing under their breath as they fumbled for their clothes. Joey caught my eye across the room, his expression saying what we were all thinking. This was going to be a nightmare of a day.
“Five minutes!” Pete bellowed, giving the triangle another deafening whack. “Anyone not on the truck in five minutes stays behind for some one-on-one time with me.” His eyes found mine, narrowing with pure hatred. “Especially you, Connor.”
My stomach dropped. There it was, the target on my back I’d been expecting since last night. Pete lingered in the doorway for another moment, his gaze burning into me before he turned and staggered away, still ringing that damn triangle.
“Jesus Christ,” Greg muttered, yanking on his boots. “He’s completely lost it.”
“He’s still drunk from last night,” Darius said, pulling a shirt over his head. “This is gonna be bad.”
I didn’t waste breath responding, just focused on getting dressed as quickly as possible. My hands shook slightly as I laced up my boots, adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins. Pete was looking for any excuse to send me back to prison, and I wasn’t going to give it to him.
“Hey,” Joey said quietly, appearing at my side. “We got your back, man. Stay close to us today.”
I nodded, grateful for the support but knowing it might not be enough. Pete owned this place, and out on the fence line, miles from town, he could do pretty much whatever he wanted.
We filed out of the bunkhouse into the pre-dawn darkness. The air was crisp and cool, stars still visible overhead. On any other day, I might have appreciated the beauty of it. Today, it just felt ominous.
Pete was waiting by the truck, leaning against the hood with a thermos that I doubted contained coffee. Larry was nowhere to be seen of course. In my sleep-induced haze I’d almost forgotten that Pete had fired him the night before. He wouldn’t be there to protect us now.
“Look at you all, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Pete sneered as we approached. “Load up.”
We climbed into the back of the truck without a word. I positioned myself in the corner, as far from Pete’s line of sight as possible. Joey sat beside me, his solid presence oddly reassuring.
“Think he actually fired Larry?” Joey whispered as the engine roared to life.
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s gone.” I let out a long sigh. “We’re on our own.”
The truck lurched forward, tossing us against each other as Pete accelerated too quickly. I grabbed the side rail to steady myself, my knuckles white from the grip. The pre-dawn air cut through my thin shirt, but the chill wasn’t what made me shiver.
“This is fucked,” Darius whispered from across the truck bed. “He can’t just work us without food.”
“He can do whatever he wants,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “We’re parolees, remember? One call from him, and we’re back inside.”
The truth hung heavy between us. Pete had us trapped, and he knew it.
My mind drifted to Ryder, wondering where he’d spent the night after his father had disowned him in front of half the town.
Was he okay? Had Evelyn taken him in? The key around my neck felt heavier than usual, a reminder of everything I stood to lose.
We bounced along the dirt roads for what felt like forever, the truck taking a route I didn’t recognize. The southern fence line was only about twenty minutes from the main house, but we’d been driving for nearly forty-five minutes now.
“Where the hell is he taking us?” Greg muttered, voicing what we were all thinking.
I peered over the cab of the truck, trying to get my bearings in the dim light. We were heading deep into the far reaches of McGrath property, areas I’d never worked before. My unease grew with every mile.
The truck finally skidded to a stop in a remote section of the ranch. Pete cut the engine and jumped out, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole vehicle shake. He staggered slightly as he walked around to the back, confirming my suspicion that he was still drunk.
“End of the line, boys,” he announced, dropping the tailgate with a clang. “Today’s special project.”
We climbed out cautiously, surveying our surroundings. We were in a rocky, barren section of the property, far from any roads or buildings. The fence line here was barely standing, ancient posts rotting and wire rusted through in places. It would take days, maybe weeks, to replace properly.
“Tools are in the back,” Pete said, jerking his thumb toward the truck bed. “Unload it. Now.”
We began to unload the truck. It only took a minute to pull everything out, but Pete was already in the cab. The moment it was empty, he revved the engine.
“See you assholes at lunch,” he barked before gunning the accelerator.
The tires spun, throwing mud and old cow shit all over us. We watched him tear across the field as we attempted to dust ourselves off in vain.
“That no-good,” Kyle spat, wiping mud off his face. “Piece of shit… horse’s ass…”
“Bastard left us out here without water,” Joey added, shaking his head as he surveyed our meager supplies.
I stared at the tools scattered around us. There were post hole diggers, wire cutters, hammers, a few spools of barbed wire, and some rotting fence posts that looked barely usable. No water. No food. No shade in sight. Just miles of broken-down fence line stretching into the distance.
“He’s trying to break us,” I said quietly, picking up a shovel. “Especially me.”
The others nodded, understanding the situation perfectly. Pete had driven us to the most remote part of his property, left us with inadequate supplies, and abandoned us. This wasn’t work. It was punishment. And it was my fault.
“How far are we from the main house?” I asked, trying to get my bearings.
Greg shielded his eyes, looking at the sun that was just beginning to peek over the horizon. “At least five, maybe six miles. Too damn far.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. The key around my neck felt like it was burning against my skin, reminding me of everything I stood to lose if I didn’t make it through this day.
“So, what’s the plan?” Kyle asked, looking at me like I somehow had the answers.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to think clearly despite the fear clawing at my insides. “We work. We do exactly what he wants, and we don’t give him any reason to call our POs.”
“And when we collapse from dehydration?” Darius asked, his tone bitter.
“We won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “It’s just one morning. Don’t overwork yourselves and we’ll take breaks.”
Joey clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright then. Let’s get to it before that bastard comes back and shoots us all.”
We divided up the tools and got to work, starting with the section of fence directly in front of us.
The sun rose higher in the sky, beating down mercilessly as we dug post holes in the rocky ground.
My muscles screamed in protest, my stomach growled with hunger, and my throat grew increasingly parched.
But I kept working, driven by the knowledge that my freedom hung in the balance.
By midday, we’d managed to replace about fifty yards of fence, a truly pitiful amount considering the miles that stretched ahead of us.
My hands were blistered and bleeding, my shirt soaked through with sweat.
We’d found a small creek about a quarter mile from where we were working to cool off in halfway through, but it just made us more thirsty.
“Anyone else hear that?” Joey said suddenly, pausing mid-swing with his post hole digger.
I stopped working, listening carefully. The distant rumble of an engine cut through the stillness of the afternoon. Pete was coming back.
“Everyone look busy,” I hissed, returning to my task with renewed vigor. The last thing I needed was Pete catching me slacking off.
The truck came into view, dust billowing behind it as it sped across the uneven terrain. Pete was driving even more erratically than before, swerving and fishtailing across the field. As he got closer, I could see he wasn’t alone. There was someone in the passenger seat.
“Who’s that with him?” Kyle asked, squinting against the sun.
I shook my head, unable to make out the figure. “No idea.”
The truck skidded to a stop about twenty yards from where we were working, and Pete stumbled out looking absolutely furious. The passenger door opened, and a uniformed officer stepped out. My blood ran cold. It was a local cop, one I’d never seen before.
“Shit,” Joey muttered beside me. “This can’t be good.”
“Connor Martin?” the officer called, looking at me.
“Yes sir?”
“I need you to put down those tools and come with us.” His voice was calm, but his hand was on the butt of his gun.
I dropped the post-hole digger immediately. My heart raced as I held my hands up, slowly walking toward the officer. I’d done this dance before and I knew what to do.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, keeping my voice even, despite the grin on Pete’s face.
“You know what you did, you little shit,” Pete hissed. “We found it in your bunk. Don’t try to play innocent.”
My stomach twisted, but I can’t say I was surprised. I knew Pete would pull something. He’d made that very clear. But I was surprised that he’d done it so quickly, especially after what had happened at the church and Evelyn’s threats. Still, there was nothing I could do about it now.
“I told you my side of the story, officer,” Pete said, turning back to the cop. “And you saw the evidence. Now get him off my property. I don’t want to see him in this town ever again.”
The officer nodded and looked my way. “Hands behind your back, son.”
I swallowed hard and turned around, placing my hands behind my back as instructed. The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into my wrists as the officer clicked them shut. The familiar sensation brought back a flood of memories I’d spent months trying to forget.
“What evidence?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “I haven’t done anything.”
The officer placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “We found a handgun under your mattress during a routine inspection. Possession of a firearm violates the terms of your parole.”
“A gun?” I couldn’t hide my shock. “That’s impossible. I never—”
“Save it for your parole officer,” the cop cut me off. “We found the gun, the damage to Pete’s gun safe, and the tools you used to break into his house.”
Break into his house? What the hell was he talking about? I glanced up at Pete to see the faintest hint of a grin on his face.
That motherfucker had set me up. He drove us out to the middle of nowhere and left us so he could frame me before calling the cops.
And now, just like I knew they would, they didn’t believe a damn word I said.
Pete’s reputation might be damaged in Hell Creek, but his word would always be worth more than a convict’s.
“Alright,” I nodded, knowing it was futile to fight. “I’ll go without a fight.”
“Damn right you will,” Pete hissed.
I glanced back at the guys for a moment, a pleading look in my eyes. I didn’t dare say Ryder’s name out loud or ask favors in front of Pete. But the moment my eye met Joey’s, he nodded, understanding what I needed.
I needed him to tell Ryder goodbye for me, to tell him what had happened. As much as I wanted to fight, to run, to find Ryder and disappear, I knew I’d never be able to run fast enough. And the last thing I wanted was to get Ryder involved or in trouble on my account.
No, as much as it shattered my heart to think about, he would be better off without me. Better off without a convict for a boyfriend.
I tilted by head back as the officer led me to the truck, taking in that big endless sky one last time. I just wished I could kiss Ryder once more, to tell him I loved him. But it was all over now. I was going back to prison.
And if Pete had his way, I’d never see the light of day again.