Chapter 6
Dallas
I think the party will be in St. Carmen this time?
What the hell did that mean?
Did he think it was symbolic or some shit to say almost the exact same thing I said to him when I dared him to come over to the Bay years ago?
And what the fuck…
Why do I remember that?
He has no real power. They need our workers, and whether he’ll admit it or not, he wants me in his path. He knows it wouldn’t be hard for me to pack up and disappear. I give a shit about my family, but they’d be fine without me. Does he want me gone? Because I don’t give a shit either way.
I shove my leg into the last desk, pushing it into place.
He’d better back off.
Him and the Ministry.
I walk around the room, blowing out Anna-Katherine’s candles.
We’d lit them when the power glitched, and when the lights came back on, we’d just kept the flames going.
I needed more light—I had things to do on my computer—but she just seemed so content to paint like that.
I blew off some essential work and took care of other things instead, both of us moving in silence.
I never wanted her here. Callum’s sister would eventually bring him, and although the prospect of having a way to fuck with him piqued my interest, I didn’t want to get distracted.
But her mother volunteered at the school, fulfilling a presence for her husband as an alumnus even though she wasn’t one.
She organized functions for the boosters, booked the senior trips, and helped recruit, and since she didn’t want her daughter left alone at home, Anna-Katherine came with her mother.
She started running errands for the office, helped serve concessions at games, and designed bulletin boards, not only for teachers, but in the hallways and front office as well.
Last year when I started teaching, she found my room one day and started spending most of her time here.
I’m not sure why. Probably because I let her do whatever she wants.
Is she supposed to paint on the windows?
Probably not, but I don’t mind, and I don’t think they’ll say anything, because of who her family is.
I never found out what happened to her. I never asked anyone. I’d seen her around St. Carmen growing up. She always acted the same age as her friends, and there was never anything to raise suspicion, until one day when she was around sixteen her demeanor regressed to that of a child, they said.
And it was clear she didn’t like to hear the name Sophia anymore.
I don’t want to know what she went through, because I’m not the one who’s going to fix her. This room is her sanctuary, and maybe I’m an asshole, but she seems pretty happy. As long as people let her be, and as long as they call her Anna-Katherine.
Her stepbrother doesn’t like to use her new name, but…
I will admit she seemed more patient with him than with others. She wouldn’t have held his hand if she found him threatening, which is the only reason I didn’t put him in his place when he barked at her. If she trusts him, I don’t want to take away from that for her at home.
Sliding my laptop into my bag, I sling it over my head and check the windows, making sure they’re sealed from the rain. Streams glide down the glass, and the clouds hang low and thick, almost making it look like night, but it’s only four.
Footsteps approach, and I look up in time to see Iron and Trace stroll into my classroom. Lightning flashes across the sky, thunder following.
“Ready?” Iron asks.
“I have my own car.” I push in my chair. “What are you doing?”
As if I don’t know. Most of the teachers here are women. They’re hoping to get an eyeful.
But Iron explains, “Dinner’s ready. Krisjen cooked.”
Right. As if her take on my parents’ recipes is worth rushing home for.
But actually, she has improved with Mariette’s help. And it is nice to have meals at home more. I’m not sure I feel ready to tell her that, though.
But I know why they were sent to escort me. “Macon doesn’t trust that I’ll be on time,” I state.
“Pretty much,” Trace chirps, sifting through the books on my desk.
We’re moving two trucks of liquor tonight. I have hours before I need to be home, since we’re waiting until most of the town is in bed for the night.
Trace holds up Sex in Antiquity. “What the fuck is this?”
I grab it and stuff it back into the bottom of the pile.
“Research,” I mumble.
I’m still deciding if I want students to be able to borrow it or not. It’s a scholarly text, not porn, but there are some graphic parts.
“Oh, I get it.” Iron peers at me as if he’s just discovered a secret about me. “Sexuality was more about roles back then, rather than gender. One was passive, the other dominant…”
“Sex was about power,” I say as I lead the way out of my classroom. “Roman male citizens couldn’t be in the passive role. It was shameful to be the one penetrated.”
Trace shivers, and I throw him a look. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s clear some things haven’t changed.
“So, have you ever been the submissive one?” Iron presses, walking next to me.
“Are you asking if I’ve ever been the socket instead of the plug?” I tease, sticking my fingers in the hole of my other hand. “Is that what you’re asking me?”
Trace shakes with laughter, and Iron turns away with a grin.
“You shared a room with him,” Trace points out to him.
“I didn’t share men with him.” Iron sees two women pass my classroom door in the hallway and lowers his voice. “If it wasn’t a woman, I didn’t stay.”
He did walk in a couple of times, but he was quick to turn around and leave again. Not sure he could tell what was happening.
“So have you?” he asks me again. “Been the submissive one?”
The memory floats in my head, and my mouth falls open a little, but I can’t take in much air.
“With one,” I murmur.
Other words sit on the tip of my tongue as the feel of him hits me all over again, but I don’t like to make him special, even in my head.
“You didn’t like it?” Trace asks, actually sounding interested.
But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. “Let’s get out of here.”
We continue down the stairs, veering right, around the courtyard.
I glance at Iron. “Are you nervous?”
“Please.”
It’s his first time breaking the law since he got out of jail, and I’m surprised Macon is taking the chance.
“Maybe you should sit it out tonight,” I say.
But he just shakes his head. “I don’t get caught when I’m making money.”
True. He only gets caught when he’s angry, not thinking straight, and hitting someone. He should still ease back into it, though.
“I think we should wait.” We head past the gym, seeing a few cheerleaders working out. “Make the delivery in a couple of days. Or find a way to do it in the daylight.”
Trace and Iron both look at me, and I know it doesn’t sound like me, but…“Something feels off,” I tell them.
Things have changed. They’re going to be waiting for Iron to make any misstep, there are street cams on every corner now, and fewer people in town in the off-season also means more eyes on the few of us who remain.
“Well, I’ve got orders to fill.” Trace unwraps the button-down from around his waist and slips it over his T-shirt. “You can sit it out if you want.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I grumble.
My brothers laugh, and we stroll by the open doors to the chapel, seeing Garrett Ames speaking to Jerome Watson and Dale Kirkland, another alumni booster.
Ames peers over his shoulder at us, and without bidding his pals goodbye, he turns toward me.
I jerk my chin at Iron and Trace. “I’m coming.”
They take the hint and hesitate for only a moment before they continue on, out to the parking lot.
Garrett Ames buttons his suit jacket, lifting his chin as he approaches. When he gets to me, I keep walking, following my brothers and forcing him to follow.
“Your stepdaughter was already picked up,” I say.
But I know that’s not what he wants with me.
“I don’t bother with her anymore,” he says. “Unless you can make her act her age.”
I can shove one of her paintbrushes under your jaw, up through your mouth, and into your nostrils. How about that?
“Callum will take care of her,” he points out. “But I doubt in a way most men would.”
I narrow my eyes, taking a moment to figure out what he means.
“Tell your brother his time is running out.” His eyes bore into the side of my face. “When I come back, the clock is ticking, and I’ll be on him like a second skin.”
I keep walking as he lets me go, and I’m not telling Macon shit.
He knows he agreed to Ames getting off his back for five years.
If we can’t make the Bay too valuable for the government to take from us, then Garrett Ames will sweep in with full force and do his worst without much fight from us. That was the deal.
We still have a year, but the pressure is on, and unfortunately, I don’t think Garrett is the only Ames coming after us.
“You have fun this summer,” he calls after me as I step into the rain. “I’ve done as much as I can do, so it’s time to let Callum prove himself.”
Prove himself…
I smile to myself as drops pummel my head. If Callum’s the best he can throw at us, I think we got it.
Opening the door of my ’93 Supra, I toss my bag onto Trace’s lap and climb into the driver’s seat, quickly ducking out of the fat drops. “Fuck,” I growl, wiping water off my face as I slam the door.
Iron swings the truck around, nodding at us out the window as he passes in front of my car.
I press the clutch and the brake, starting the engine.
“Are we in a full-blown tropical storm or some shit?” Trace dumps my bag in the back seat.
I flip on the wipers and shift into first. “It’ll fizzle out by midnight,” I tell him.
Hitting the gas, I ease off the clutch and speed through the empty spot in front of me to an early dinner and a nap before the liquor run tonight.
As I leave, I scan the lot. “The worst is still coming.”
—
Seven hours later, I’m sitting at the wheel of a box truck on a dirt road as Macon, Iron, Trace, Rip, Tyson, and a couple of others carry boxes on their shoulders off the airboats, up the docks, and through the heavily wooded area.