Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
ROWAN
W e took the van instead of the bikes. It was less of a risk, especially if things went downhill.
“It’s more anonymous,” Bear had said earlier as we hashed out the game plan. “Easier to get away, too.”
At least we agreed on that front.
Still, it didn’t feel right, being out there without two wheels under me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about this whole thing clawed at me.
Cryptic messages like that didn’t just fall into our laps without reason.
And again, Hollow Creek Farm seemed to be in the centre of the shit pile, its stench souring everything else around it.
It was Barrenridge’s very own Bermuda Triangle, a black hole that was growing deeper and darker by the minute.
We pulled up on the side of the dirt drive where the old entrance to the creek backed onto the Timberflat property.
A crow squawked in the distance, then went silent too fast. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving enough of an orange glow to outline the remnants of the abandoned buildings—a sagging barn, now boarded up, graffiti sprayed across the walls, and two empty sheds, all surrounded by a backdrop of bushland and the eerie quiet.
Something about the silence, the stillness, reminded me of the few seconds right before a bar fight breaks out—too quiet, too calm. Like the world was sucking in a breath and just waiting to release hell.
From our vantage point, the land rose in a slight slope, meaning anyone who approached through the bush had to walk a hundred metres in the open. There was nowhere for anyone to hide.
I tapped my lighter against my thigh. Once. Twice. Flipped it over. Another tap. Once more for good measure. Bear cracked his knuckles one at a time.
We stayed in the van, waiting—for movement, for a sign, for this whole damn thing to make sense . The sky went from orange to midnight blue in a matter of minutes. The engine ticked as it cooled, and the evening air slid in through the van’s open windows, crawling over my skin like tiny spiders.
Some part of me knew we shouldn’t have been there.
But we’d already stepped over the line, and I wasn’t the kind of man who turned back.
I threw a quick glance over at Bear, who was scanning the place, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow.
He had that look about him, the one that told me he didn’t like any of this either.
But neither of us spoke. We just kept watching.
“You sure this is the spot?” Scout said, shifting further forward, his head popping out between the seats. He chewed the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his vest.
“This is it,” Bear muttered, cracking his knuckles louder this time. “Wish this prick would hurry the hell up.”
Right on cue, a single light flickered into view, weaving in and out, disappearing behind the trees then reappearing. Our would-be informant had finally decided to show. Relief mingled with suspicion as it moved towards us.
I lifted my chin toward the light as it got closer. “We have company.”
Bear managed a low grunt in acknowledgement, his large body going rigid. Scout shifted in the back, craning his neck to get a better look. None of us made a move to climb out, not yet. No point jumping the gun. Could have been anyone out there.
My fingers wrapped around my lighter. Was the risk going to be worth it?
The whole place reeked of dangerous energy, much like the lingering scent of a decaying animal nearby.
No frogs. No crickets. The kind of quiet that made you wonder if something had already died. And no-one had found the body yet.
The light flashed on the van’s windshield, blinding me for a moment now that everything else outside had gone dark as hell.
And in this town, streetlights were a luxury.
Out here, in the sticks, some folks still relied on kerosene lamps just to save on the power bill.
It was old school, way behind most places, but that’s what you got when you didn’t stray too far from the small town you were born in.
Couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, and most didn’t care to learn.
“Looks like our guy finally found his balls,” Scout muttered, leaning forward, his hands shaking.
Bear scoffed. “And they want to be dramatic about it,” he said, sarcastic and sharp as ever.
I lit a cigarette, letting the smoke fill the van before opening my door to let the night air swallow it up.
Bear mirrored the action on the driver’s side, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel as he stepped out.
Smoke and shadows billowed up in front of my face, while Scout stumbled out after us, wide-eyed and ready for whatever was about to go down.
My stomach coiled tight. Last time I let relief get ahead of instinct, someone ended up in a goddamn box.
I held up a hand to cover my eyes as the light swept across my face, bright enough that I could barely make out the figure holding it.
“Are you Rowan?” The man behind the torch called out.
I knew that voice. Not well—but enough for it to punch straight through my gut. It didn’t belong there.
“You mind not shining that fucking thing in my face?” I snapped, the sharpness in my voice masking the thrum of nerves tightening my chest.
I wasn’t playing games with this bloke, nor was I about to hide my frustration at being kept waiting.
Bear squared his shoulders the way he did when he was prepping for a fight. Scout reached back, fingers grazing the handle of his blade. Just in case.
“Sorry.” The light fell to the ground in front of my feet and a scrawny kid, probably no older than Scout, came into view.
He scratched at the side of his neck, shifting on his feet in a way that told me he was ready to bolt at any moment. His hesitation set me on edge. But more than that was the fact I’d seen him before. I was sure of it, even in the dark. Old Man Jenkins’s grandson.
I should have known the old bastard was taking me for a ride. Bullshit he knew nothing about the stolen parts.
“You called this meeting,” Bear said, stepping forward, “so start talking before we decide you’re not worth the drive.”
He flinched, his grip on the torch tightening and loosening. Tightening again. But he never opened his mouth. Just rubbed at the back of his neck like he could somehow rub off the cold that had settled between us.
Bear stepped in front of me, blocking my line of sight and making his distrust known. I didn’t blame him. The kid looked like he’d crack under the slightest pressure. Maybe that’s exactly what was happening.
The torchlight bounced across the gravel, illuminating nothing but dust and the odd glint of rusted nails in the dirt.
The kid continued to shift back and forth, stealing glances over his shoulder.
Was he waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows?
Or . . . was he just waiting for someone, period?
Help, perhaps? I couldn’t see past his silhouette.
“You’re wasting our time,” I said, stepping around Bear.
I flicked the cigarette butt to the dirt and flexed my fingers once, testing how far I could push before they curled into fists. My nerves were raw, the edge of my voice impossible to hold back. He needed to spit it out before I decided this wasn’t worth the trouble.
“I’m sorry.” His voice shook, barely above a whisper, the torchlight moving in jittery arcs. “They said if I didn’t—God, they said they’d hurt my grandad.” His shoulders sagged with each word. I couldn’t tell if he was giving up or giving in.
Bear took one more step forward, stretching out his fingers. “Made you do what?” he growled out, fists clenched like he already knew the answer and hated it.
I barely had time to blink when gunfire erupted around us. Fuck. Bullets sprayed the van. The ground. Fucking everywhere. Sparks lit up the dark. I snapped a hand out, grabbing Bear by the jacket and dragging him backwards towards the van.
“Get down! Get down!” I shouted, my voice barely rising above the echo of metal hitting metal.
My muscles burned under the exertion of dragging Bear back. Should’ve known the kid was bait. He couldn’t even look me in the eye .
Everything exploded into chaos, bullets flying from every direction. The still from a few seconds ago was long gone, ripped apart just as the air around us whispered our deaths.
Bear stumbled, but was right beside me, keeping pace, while Scout ducked low, wide-eyed and too stunned to even make a sound.
A bullet skimmed past my head, close enough that the heat of it burnt a path along my skin. I veered sideways, shoving Scout out of the way. He hit the dirt hard, face-first, grit scraping his skin. Bear grabbed him around the back of his shirt, yanking him to his feet.
The van was ten metres off, its dark shape a shadow against the backdrop of our impending downfall. My boots hammered the dirt, gravel skidding underfoot as Bear and Scout lunged ahead.
Metal shrieked in front of us—another bullet, ricocheting off the bumper. There was no way we were getting out without at least a little bloodshed.
I pulled my handgun from my holster tucked under my jacket and spun, firing off a couple of rounds into the darkness.
The shots came harder. Faster. Closer.
A bullet slammed into the van’s side mirror, shattering it into plastic shrapnel. Another clipped the hood, sparks darting out like fireworks.
Nothing but darkness surrounded us.
I shoved Bear and Scout in front of me. They were my men. I couldn’t let them be the ones to take the fall. Not on my watch. Not when I could be the one to take it instead.
We were almost there. Another round rang out.
Then . . . I grunted, my steps faltering. My knees hit the ground first, pain shattering my kneecaps. The burn. Fuck, the burn.
It tore through my side, heat spreading from the sight of pain and into my chest. I was supposed to take the hit, not drop from it. My body gave out before I could get them safe.
Useless. Fucking useless.
I tried to blink away the darkness, but it closed in, dragging me deeper into the unknown.
My fingertips dug into the dirt as I dragged myself across the ground. Strong hands grabbed at me, at least I thought they did.
Someone hauled me to my feet, and Bear’s gruff voice cut through the haze. “Got him! Scout, get us the fuck out of here.”
My vision swam as Bear dragged me into the van and yanked the door shut behind us. Gunfire still echoed in the distance.
I hit the floor hard, the metal cold beneath me. Tyres screeched, the engine roaring as Scout gunned it, throwing me against the side panel. I gritted my teeth, my breath coming hard through the searing pain in my side.
“Stay with me, brother,” Bear muttered, his massive hands pressing down on my wound. “Don’t you dare check out on us.”
Scout didn’t let up, the van tearing through town like it was the last safe place on earth.
Everything kept going dark. I was losing too much blood. Cold. So fucking cold.
I grabbed hold of Bear’s shirt, fingers barely able to form a grip, and pulled him closer, willing my mouth to work. “Sadie,” I whispered. My mouth was dry. Throat raw. I said it again. “Sadie.” Her name was a plea.
Bear’s worry was in his hands, pressing harder, trying to stop the blood. Trying to do the impossible.
I blinked hard, fighting to stay awake, to stay alive until I could see Sadie’s face one last time. All I wanted was to look into her hazel eyes, to tell her I was sorry for all the shit. Just needed her to know I fucking loved her. Always had. That was it. That was enough.
She was the only thing keeping me there. If she knew—if I could just say it—I could fight a little longer.