When I let them go, my cousins stepped inside. I showed them to their room, where they unloaded but didn’t unpack.
“I’ve been in a car with Spence since dawn. I want alcohol and bar food, stat,” Kansas said.
“I have just the place,” I said.
Spenser eyed me.
“You’ll like it,” I assured her.
***
“You lied,” Kansas said, staring blankly at the exterior of McCormack’s.
“Oh, please. When did you become such a snob?” I asked.
“Since I turned twenty-one and had a choice to go to a shithole or not.”
“This is not a shithole. It’s actually pretty nice inside,” I said, holding open the dark metal door. “And the owner is a friend, so don’t start any shit.”
Spenser and Kansas preceded me, looking around the moment they were inside. Spenser chose a table instead of the bar, and Kansas went straight toward Jerry.
“Be nice,” I warned.
Kansas held up a fist and extended her middle finger.
Spenser let her chin rest on the heel of her hand, her eyes heavy. “She’s put up with me all day. Let her get a drink then she’ll be fine.”
Jerry waved to me, and I waved back, watching him chat with Kansas with a smile on his face. His ability to win her over shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. She returned with a tray with three shots and three beers, standing on her tip toes to place the tray on the high-top table.
“Shots,” Spenser deadpanned.
“Yep,” she said, holding hers up. We did the same. “To family, home, and abroad. To fallen brothers and sisters. To cruel and unusual punishment in the form of hours in the car with Spenser.”
We laughed, shot whatever clear, throat-burning shit Jerry had poured for us, and then chased with several gulps of beer.
Spenser likely had the same look on her face as I did. We could drink our weight in beer, but shots were not our strong point.
“Jesus Christ, Kansas,” Spenser said, holding the back of her hand to her mouth.
Kansas giggled.
“Was it that bad riding with Spenser?” I asked, stacking the empty shot glasses.
Kansas made a face. “She is a backseat driver while she’s driving, she has terrible taste in music, in addition to road rage and incessant gasping. To say it’s stressful is an understatement.”
“You can handle grenades going off around you but not gasping,” I said, taking a sip.
“It is traumatic,” Spenser admitted with a laugh.
We spent the rest of the night catching up, talking about the militia, our fathers, memories, and Spenser’s ex, Greg. I let my cousins rack up empty beer bottles while I consumed water.
A group of men walked in, but Jerry didn’t seem to know them.
One whistled at us when they walked back, and Kansas’s cheeks flushed.
“We just got here,” she said with a frown. “Now we’re going to have to leave.”
“First, we’ve been here almost three hours. Second, don’t let them ruin your night. Just ignore them,” I said.
Kansas glared at me, pointing out my hypocrisy without saying a word. The male bar patrons in Sasabe knew not to speak to us, catcalling or otherwise. I was the first to throw a punch if I felt disrespected, but then Matt walked into Phil’s bar on a blistering Arizona summer night, asked for a water and ignored me for ten minutes before asking about my holster, then gave me a detailed rec about a better gun, changing the course of my life.
“Agreed. We’ve had a good run here,” Spenser said. “I’m beat anyway. Let’s go home.”
“Are you still sharing a bed, or does Spenser gasp in her sleep?” I asked.
Kansas laughed. “No, I can handle that.”
“Good, because I don’t think I have enough sheets for the sofa,” I said.
A man in a black flat-brimmed hat and hoodie put his hand on the back of my chair and grinned. “Can we buy you ladies a drink?”
“No,” we said in unison.
“Aw, c’mon,” he said.
I turned to face him. “We have drinks, and we’ll buy our own if we’d like more. No thank you.”
His grin didn’t diminish, but he looked like he was having trouble focusing. I wasn’t sure if he was looking at me or Kansas.
“You are gorgeous,” he said, leaning toward me.
“Walk away,” I said, unmoving.
He reached for my hair, and I grabbed his wrist. Kansas and Spenser stood.
“I just wanted to…” He looked down. Spenser was holding a knife to his groin.
“She said walk away,” Spenser said.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jerry said, half-jogging over with his hands up.
Spenser stealthily put away the knife somewhere behind her as if we’d all dreamed it.
“These ladies were minding their own business,” Jerry said. “They asked you to move on. You should move on.”
“I was just—” the man began.
Jerry lowered his chin, speaking with an expression I hadn’t seen before. “Move on.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, walking quickly to where his friends had congregated.
“Thanks, Jerry,” I said, nodding. He nodded back and returned to the bar.
“Okay, I like him,” Spenser said, watching Jerry resume his duties. The bar wasn’t busy, but Jerry moved like it was.
“Why did it take Jerry telling him for him to get the hint?” Kansas asked, miffed.
“Because they don’t know we could kill them,” I said, glaring at the offending dickhead in the black hoodie.
My phone buzzed, and I checked it.
“Who is that?” Spenser asked. “You have a huge grin on your face!”
“Do not,” I said, smoothing my features. “Shut up.”
It was Zeke. They’d just returned.
Doing anything fun tonight? he texted.
At McCormack’s with my cousins.
Is it dead?
Pretty much. Except for the regulars and the idiots who just walked in.
Are they bothering you?
Everyone bothers me.
Have they tried buying you a drink?
Yep.
I’m going to take a shower and wash the fire off me. I’ll be there in twenty.
I put away my phone and crossed my arms on the table, smiling back at my cousins. “Stop it.”
They laughed. “Tell us,” Spenser said.
“His name is Zeke. He’s a wildfire fighter working that canyon blaze just outside of town. Several teams are here, and they cycle out. He’s on R&R for a few days.”
“He just got back? When can we meet him?” Spenser said.
I shrugged. “He’s on his way. Don’t get too excited, he’s just a friend.”
Kansas raised one eyebrow. “Not with that smile on your face he’s not.”
I looked away, trying to keep my expressions under control. “He’s nice.”
“How did you meet?” Kansas asked.
“Here actually,” I said. “He was defending my honor.”
“What?” my cousins said in unison, with similar expressions of disbelief.
“I didn’t ask him to. He just did it. I helped.”
Kansas nodded, satisfied. “He sounds all right.”
I recounted the fight until the doors opened and a dozen hotshots rolled in. They looked exhausted, but with purpose in their eyes. They all located us then the group of guys I’d mentioned. Most split off to the bar, except Zeke, Watts, and a few others.
“Hey,” Zeke said, a tired but warm smile on his face.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said.
He shrugged. “I wanted to.”
After a moment, I remembered my cousins. “These ladies are my cousins, Spenser and Kansas.”
“Ladies,” Kansas said, amused.
Watts’ eyes lit up when he shook Kansas’s
hand.
It was Zeke’s turn to introduce his friends. He waited a few more seconds until the rest joined us. “Watts, Fish, Sugar, Jew, Taco, Smitty, Scooter, Sancho, and Pup.”
“I’m Naomi, these are my cousins, Spenser and Kansas.”
“Interesting names,” Watts said.
“You should talk,” Spenser said, her gaze meeting Sugar’s.
“We’re an interesting family,” Kansas said.
“I bet,” Watts said with a grin.
“This is your crew?” I asked Zeke.
“Part of them,” Zeke said.
“Part of them?” Kansas said, scanning the crowd while she shook hands.
“We have a crew of nineteen. The others had things to do or wanted to rest. We just got back in.”
Spenser and Kansas finished shaking hands. Spenser got to Sugar last. She smiled, holding onto his hand while she talked. “I guess you brought the mountain back down with you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a slight Southern drawl. It was dark, but I was pretty sure he was blushing.
Sugar looked like an actor I’d seen in several movies who used to be one of those fancy for-show wrestlers. He was bald and huge but cut like he was training for a bodybuilding competition. His biceps were as big as Spenser’s head, and he was at least a head and a half taller than she was. I could also see a teaser of a massive tattoo on his upper arm that peeked from his short-sleeved shirt.
Spenser’s lashes batted. I’d never seen her cheeks flush, and I couldn't tell in the dim light, but I was pretty sure she was blushing.
“He looks like—”
“The Rock?” Zeke asked, amused. “I know. We missed an opportunity with the nickname, but he’s the biggest teddy bear. He could easily kill somebody, but he’d probably cry after.”
I breathed out a laugh, interested to see how more conversation with him and Spenser would go. Her last boyfriend, Greg, was the second-best sniper in our unit. He was known as the divider of the men from the boys and sent weaker recruits packing. I wasn’t sure Sugar could handle Spenser.
Jerry came over with a rag and carrying another high-top table. He set it down and began placing chairs. The hotshots went into action to help, moving tables around. The seating arrangement from a small square table and four chairs to enough tables to form a U shape with thirteen chairs. Jerry wiped them off, took orders, then patted my shoulder before returning to the bar.
Kansas eyed me for a moment then returned to being social again, laughing at something Watts had just said.
Zeke stood next to me, smiling at his friends chatting it up with my cousins.
“They remind me of you,” he said.
I smiled, watching Spenser focus her attention on Sugar. “Well,” I said. “That would make sense. We grew up together.”
“Isn’t Jerry worried about you being in here together? If all three of you get mad, the whole place might blow up.”
“He hasn’t said as much,” I said. I saw Spenser and Kansas giggling. For some reason I didn’t want to do the same with Zeke, so I kept my features smooth, fighting the urge to smile too much or find him too funny.
“Are those the guys who were flirting with you?” Zeke said, nodding to the small group across the dance floor. They were looking over their shoulder at us intermittently, clearly discussing our new band of brothers.
“We handled it.”
“Just asking. Everything all right?”
“Yes, why?” I asked, looking up at him.
“I just…” He lost his train of thought, and I knew why. We were just inches away. I could feel his gentle breath on my face. There was still a hint of the smell of smoke on his clothes, but I liked it; it reminded me a little bit of the oil fields on fire in Iraq.
“You just what?” I asked.
“Looky here!” the man from before said, grabbing Zeke’s shoulder. “I owe you an apology. I sort of hit on your girl earlier. I’m Keith.” He pointed to his group across the bar. “Those are my buddies.”
I had to give Keith credit for approaching such a large group alone, especially when he knew at least one of us had a weapon.
“Yep.” Zeke stared at me, taking a swig.
I’d never liked the idea of belonging to anyone, of being anyone’s girl. Matt and I were partners. But I liked that Zeke didn’t deny it.
Spenser and Kansas were subtly keeping an eye on Keith, and Spenser tapped on the table with her index finger, signaling us that possible trouble was heading over in the form of the rest of Keith’s group.
“Come on, let’s order another round,” one of Keith’s friends said, tugging on his hoodie. The rest of their group seemed friendly enough, greeting the hotshots.
Jerry brought another round to our table.
“Naomi,” Watts called, sliding a beer down to me.
“Naomi,” Keith repeated.
“Don’t do it,” I warned.
He looked at Zeke and patted him on the back hard enough to move Zeke forward several inches. “You know her name backward is I MOAN? Tell us, is that true?”
I closed my eyes. “Shit.”
Zeke attacked him, taking him to the ground. The two groups reacted, trying to separate the two.
“Say something else,” Zeke said, fighting off his colleagues to get to Keith.
“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Keith yelled, wiping blood from his nose and lip.
Keith’s friends apologized while they pulled him away, but they didn’t get too far before Keith cried out. I already knew what had happened. They’d made the mistake of bringing him too close to Kansas on their way back to where they were before.
Keith held up his crooked fingers. “Someone grabbed my fucking hand! They’re broken!”
The hotshots and Keith’s friends made noises, all grossed out by the multiple fractures in his ring and pinky fingers.
“Better get him to the ER,” Kansas said. “Before I break the other three.”
“What the fuck? These women are demons! That one put a knife to my dick earlier! You’ve been warned!” Keith yelled while he was escorted out by his friends.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have come back for more, genius!” Watts yelled, then turned to Kansas. “You did that?” he asked her.
“Possibly,” she said.
Watts smiled, in awe. “I think I’m in love.”
“You got a knife?” Sugar asked Spenser.
She shrugged.
The chatter with the hotshots picked up, and I straightened Zeke’s shirt. “Why do you insist on this nonsense when you know I can take care of myself?”
“I don’t know,” he said, sitting in the chair next to me. “It’s the way I was raised. And I…”
“You what?” I asked when he didn’t finish.
“I like you,” he said.
“I’m married.”
Zeke paused. “Then tell me you just wanna be friends.”
I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come out. I took a swig of my beer instead, pretending to watch the others laugh and enjoy one another’s company.
chapter fifteen
myths
Naomi
T
he doors of the Colorado Springs Hotel swept open, and glorious air conditioning blew into my face. A dark-haired college kid stood at the check-in counter. Men and women were still ambling around the lobby, a pint or bottle in their hands. The bartender was in a vest and bowtie, obviously trying to class the place up a bit.
Watts leaned against the counter to order but was interrupted.
“Sorry, last call has come and gone,” the bartender said.
“What? C’mon, Stavros! It’s not even eleven o’clock!” Watts said.
“Does this look like a Hilton to you?” a man said, turning around on his stool. His eyes were blood shot and glossed over.
Zeke touched his shoulder. “Whoa. Tyler. You’re blitzed.”
“Fuck off,” Tyler said, pulling his shoulder away.
Zeke didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s get you up to your room. C’mon. You’re not doing anyone any good down here.”
Tyler stared at him for a minute, looking lost. “They arrested her.”
“I know,” Zeke said.
“I had to put her in a cab and send her back to Estes.”
“I know.”
“She hates me.”
“Tyler. She got drunk and wandered around a restricted area, and they found her almost in the black. She’s lucky she’s still not in jail.”
Tyler looked down. “I can’t help her.”
Zeke forced him to stand. “Not by getting drunk, you’re not. C’mon.”
Zeke walked Tyler to the left and turned around, gesturing that he’d be back.
“What was that about?” Kansas asked.
“That’s Tyler Maddox,” Watts said. “His girlfriend is a photographer. She wasn’t allowed up on the mountain, so she fell off the wagon and decided to go up on her own. It’s a bad deal. She’s in a lot of trouble.”
“Been there,” Spenser said.
“You put a knife in all four of his tires and sugar in his gas tank. Not the same as wandering the burning wilderness drunk, Spense,” Kansas said.
“So I guess I don’t need to ask if you really put a knife to that guy’s family jewels at the bar. What do y’all do when you get into it? How are you both still alive?” Sugar asked in his deep voice.
Spenser held up the bottom hem of her shirt, showing her four pack and a two-inch long horizontal scar.
“Appendix?” Sugar asked.
“The bitch stabbed me,” Spenser said.
“It was our last fight,” Kansas said. “In my defense, she broke my jaw and I had to eat through a straw for months.”
“Damn,” Sugar said, appalled.
“That’s nothing,” I said. “Our fathers have shot each other … on three different occasions.”
Watts’ eyes widened. “You weren’t kidding about your family.”
Zeke returned. He wasn’t smiling or making light of Tyler’s state in anyway, instead choosing to change the subject. “Everybody up for cards?”
The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 12