Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
WILDE
I ’m sweaty, shoulders burning, and I take a swing with my post again. My heavy wooden stick collides with the fence, and I swear it shifts under my blow. Every month, I prepare for the town’s Peril match like it’s my day job, and in a way, it is.
It’s the only way to make money around here.
Our fight nights draw a crowd, and I’m determined to be the best.
Chest heaving with exertion, I pass the heavy post to my left hand to practice with my less dominant grip. Most people go with a lighter stick since they’re easier to land a hit with, but the heavier posts hurt the most.
I lunge into a side swipe, when the crunch of tires cutting through gravel pulls my attention from the fence. The old, blue Jeep pulls to a stop a few feet away, and Ziggy climbs out from behind the wheel, worry written all over his usually relaxed face.
I’m immediately on alert.
“Did someone go off Hobby Straight again?” That winding mountain road has travelers skim the edge of Wilde’s End without knowing we’re here. A few times a year, someone takes the bend too wide, so I have to head up there and haul their car back up out of the trees.
Ziggy shakes his head, lips tightening and eyes getting darker, which doesn’t fill me with confidence. Whatever the hell has shaken him up isn’t going to be something I like.
My thoughts immediately jump to Foley, mayor of the township closest to us.
He’s an asshole who’s suggested once or twice that the Dale absorbs Wilde’s End, but we’ve never seen eye to eye on that.
Both towns are completely off the grid, but his is larger, and they don’t have the same values as we do.
Values, like, you know, respect. We’re radical like that.
I hold up my hand, and Ziggy tosses the keys to me. The snap of metal as I catch them in the air sets my teeth prematurely on edge. Maybe I’m reading too far into the vibes Ziggy is throwing off … but I doubt it. Not much rattles him.
“Do we need to grab the doc?” I ask, passing the front of my house to reach his car.
Ziggy again rejects the question and takes the passenger seat.
I’m a bit of a control freak, and riding shotgun isn’t something I do, which people in Wilde’s End picked up on fast. Our rule out here is “don’t ask,” and I’ve thankfully never had to explain myself, just like Ziggy’s never had to explain why he hates to talk.
We all have pasts, but the only thing that matters is who we are after we get here.
Which is why I’m set on keeping Foley’s ideas out of my town.
We climb into Ziggy’s Jeep, and I get the engine going before pulling out again. Whenever we need to turn, he taps the dashboard and points, but otherwise, I keep going straight until I realize where he’s taking me. My gaze swings to where he’s worrying his thumbnail between his teeth.
“Old End?”
Ziggy’s messy black hair is held back by a wire headband, but tufts have pulled free to block the expression in his brown eyes. Slowly, he nods, and his unease has my muscles wound tight as I switch gears.
I’ve always felt a protectiveness toward Ziggy, so anything that gets to him gets to me.
When we’re close to the road that will take us into the original town, Ziggy taps the dashboard again.
“Right here?” I check.
He gestures right again.
Considering turning right means going off road through the trees, I’m skeptical, but I do it.
Roads are an optional route anyway, but he said we were going to Old End, and this will take us to a squat lookout above the town instead.
It’s not until we’re at the lookout that Ziggy holds up his hand to stop.
I put the car in park and cut the engine, but he’s looking toward the town like he’s seen a ghost. Ziggy will talk when he absolutely has to, but this doesn’t seem to be one of those times, so I get out, leaving the door open behind me, and cross the knee-high grass to the overhang.
The first thing I spot is a car.
It’s a large white SUV. The overly shiny exterior is throttled with dirt, and the front driver’s door is propped open.
The fuck?
I drop into a crouch, heart pounding, as my gaze sweeps the main road, looking for its owner.
Ziggy approaches and crouches silently beside me.
“No chance Bert got a new car?” I ask. Bert has owned Wilde’s End since before I got here, and other than the one conversation we’ve had, we keep our distance. He knows we live out here, but he doesn’t come into our space, and we stay out of Old End out of respect for him.
Ziggy’s lips pinch in the corners. I’ll take that for a no.
As much as the need to panic creeps over me, I push it down again.
Change and surprises aren’t things I’m good at taking in my stride, not when the last twenty years of my life have been spent learning everything there is to know about this town.
We have plans and contingencies in place for everything.
Including strangers.
Occasionally, people will show up to explore the abandoned town and take videos walking through it. Judging by the fancy car, I’d bet money that’s what they’re doing now. It’s the logical option.
So why the fuck am I so uneasy?
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” I tell Ziggy. “They’ll move on quickly.” No one hangs out in Old End after dark.
I go to stand when he tugs me down again; for a wispy guy, he’s stronger than he looks. Ziggy jabs his finger back toward the buildings, and I follow his gaze to where three blond men have walked out of one of the houses.
At first thought, they remind me of the three bears.
One is as wiry as Ziggy, the next is a little smaller than me, and the third is larger, but I can’t tell from here whether he’s muscular or chubby.
They’re talking about something as they approach the car I’m expecting them to climb back into, but the middle-sized one heads around for the trunk instead.
It lifts open for him, and then he pulls out?—
“Is that a suitcase?”
Ziggy sighs, folding his arms over his knees before propping his chin on them. His bottom lip is pierced twice underneath and juts out like he’s upset .
My worry inches higher as I watch as all three men unload the trunk. I count five suitcases between them, plus a large backpack each, and then armfuls of shopping bags.
“What the hell are they doing?”
I’m not looking for an answer, and Ziggy doesn’t bother giving me one. We both watch; me, with my jaw dangling and a sickening feeling setting in as these guys carry their shit into the house.
Like they’re preparing for a long stay.
“Maybe they’re lost,” I suggest weakly.
Ziggy taps his mouth three times with his index finger, his way of suggesting I get Rooney up here.
Rooney is as close to a right-hand man as it gets and can talk to anyone about anything.
He’s the whole reason the town is kept well supplied and probably the only one of us who doesn’t have a severe dislike and distrust of strangers.
It’s a good idea, but I’m hesitant.
“They’ve only just shown up. Bert and his brothers are due soon for their usual maintenance, so they’ll send these squatters on their way.
” The thought of people hanging around for an unknown amount of time unsettles me.
“We’ll keep watch, but I think Rooney is a last resort.
We don’t want outsiders knowing we’re here if we can help it. ”
My decision must satisfy him because Ziggy pushes to his feet and leads the way back to the car.
I can’t exactly place why those men are prickling that panic center of my brain, but I’m not going to let on that I’m worried.
We’ve dealt with strangers before, and we will again.
It’s not a big deal. Once the custodians find out someone is squatting in their town, they’ll handle the problem for us.
We just have to be on our guard until then.
All week, we wait for Bert to show up, and he never does. Instead, the three men in town get hard to work, and the moment I see them pull the first house apart, it hits me with sickening certainty that they’re not leaving in a hurry.
I need to get to the bottom of this.
The three men have all turned in for the night, and the fire outside is snuffed out, so as much as I don’t want to do this, I remind myself that there’s no time like now. I leave the lookout, make my way through the trees, and into Old End.
I hate being here. Not only for the memories but for how everything feels so different.
The car parked by the furthest two-story house, the piles of debris littering the road, and the camp chairs set around a gas burner all bring the town …
alive. It has no right to feel that way when I’ve buried so many demons in its walls.
It’s been almost two decades since I last stepped foot in Old End. Back then, I was tired to my bone, emotionally wrung out, running from a life that only wanted to use me and spit me out, just like with?—
I cut those thoughts off before I can go back down a path I keep barricaded.
This is why I avoid Old End. It’s the town I’d stumbled across, squatted in, and then used to wallow in memories for longer than I want to admit.
If it wasn’t for Bert finding me and giving me the push I’d needed to keep going, I don’t know what would have happened.
My footsteps slow as I reach the house I watched them enter.
The old two-story shiplap dwelling is the only one in the line of them that has been left untouched.
The way they’re gutting buildings that have existed longer than they have proves they’re the exact type of out-of-towners I don’t want anywhere near my home.
Now, I need to figure out exactly why they’re here.
A fresh lock has been placed on the front and back doors, but the old windows slide right open.
They’re tacky from years of swelling wood and expanding joints, but I get the one closest to the back door wide enough to hoist up and pull myself through.
The smell of dust and mildew coats my nostrils as soon as I straighten and look around.
This wasn’t the building I took refuge in, but the layout is almost identical, and I’m thrown back to my seventeen-year-old self, too scared and powerless to keep running.
I’m not that person anymore.
The city rots and corrupts. Creates monsters and strips souls bare. I’ve created a new life for myself out here, and I’ll protect Wilde’s End with everything that I have.
I creep through the living area that has a distinct feeling of loneliness broken only by the fresh color pops of shopping bags and condiments cluttering the kitchen counter.
A thick layer of dust muffles my footsteps as I enter the short hall and pause by what should be a bedroom door.
I have no idea if any or all of them are in here, but I set my hand on the door handle and turn it slowly before sliding the door inward.
It skims the carpet with a soft chhhh that makes me catch my breath as I peer into the room.
All that’s here is an inflatable mattress and a man snoring softly through my intrusion.
I step inside, glaring down at the sleeping form as I make my way across the room. Out of the three men, I think this guy is the middle-sized one, and settling my eyes on his relaxed features stirs up the type of feelings I only let myself indulge in occasionally.
This man is gorgeous. His dark blond hair is growing out of a stylish haircut, and his eyebrows are relaxed over closed eyes with eyelashes so long they throw shadows over his cheeks.
His nose is small, his jaw is wide, and the bare arm he has flung over his head shows off his bicep even in the dark.
A deep exhale leaves me slowly.
He’s shirtless, the deep dip between his pecs disappearing under the blankets. It shouldn’t be so tempting to glimpse more, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this. At least not for a very, very long time.
I set my jaw and force myself to walk away. He’s attractive, but I’m on a goddamn mission.
I comb the house for signs of what they’re doing.
Has Bert hired them? Do they assume this place doesn’t belong to anyone?
The other two are sleeping upstairs, in bedrooms as empty as the first. Their wallets give away nothing except their names—I’m assuming with their surname, Bellamy, they’re related—and I’m not game to touch their phones.
I leave things where I found them, but I’m not careful, and I don’t plan to be.
Let them think a ghost has visited them in the night.
I search through everything I can find until I spy a set of keys sitting on the kitchen counter. I creep closer, eyeing the tag, and when I pick them up and read it, my gut sinks.
For: sale of Wilde’s End, California.
Sale? Sale ?
The keys crunch in my fist.
Bert … what the fuck have you done?