by Tia Fielding
“Well, here goes nothing,” Quinn murmured under his breath as he sauntered inside through the double doors. “Jimmy, you here?”
Chapter 18
The funeral of Ian MacGregor shut down Spruce Creek. Aaron figured half the town’s population was at the graveyard, paying their respects, and the other half was doing exactly what he was doing: locking their doors and peeking out their windows to see what the hell was going on. You didn’t need insider knowledge about bikers and undercover cops to know that something was going down. The whole town knew that Jimmy MacGregor had killed his father, and the whole town was waiting to see what would happen next. There had to be at least one member of the MacGregor clan who’d stand up to Jimmy for what he’d done, surely. And not Quinn, Aaron knew, because he’d sworn an oath to uphold the law, but there had to be someone. Maybe one of the older grizzled guys who’d hung around with Ian while he’d held court in the bar, for loyalty. Or maybe one of the younger guys, who saw an opportunity to get rid of a snake like Jimmy and make his own grab for power at the same time. It was difficult to imagine that Jimmy would remain unchallenged, but what the hell did Aaron know about how the MacGregors operated? He hadn’t been in town long enough to relearn all their complicated alliances. And neither, he thought with a sinking feeling, had Quinn. Not really. What if he was as out of his depth as any other outsider right now?
It was a terrifying thought.
Aaron watched the time.
He hated waiting. Fuck Quinn’s job, and fuck his meeting with Jimmy—they could have been halfway out of the state by seven P.M. if they left now—but he knew Quinn wanted to make sure his aunt got out of town before he left too.
A police cruiser drove slowly down Main Street, and Aaron wondered if it was Uncle Will.
And there was another tendril of worry unfurling in his gut, of course. If the Burned Skulls really were coming to town, where the hell did that leave Uncle Will?
Aaron pulled out his phone. Should he text him? Or text Quinn and ask him if he could warn Uncle Will?
He stared at the screen of his phone, and then shoved it back into his pocket.
Shit. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do, except wait like Quinn had said.
The afternoon passed slowly, and Aaron felt the weight of every minute.
When the police cruiser pulled up in the driveway at just before seven, Aaron’s heart raced and his hands began to shake. What if something had gone wrong? But Uncle Will climbed out of the driver’s seat, a takeout bag swinging from his hand, and Aaron pushed down his rising panic.
He opened the front door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Uncle Will stepped inside. “You eat yet?”
“Not really hungry.” Aaron had never been able to eat much before a patrol, back in Afghanistan. Nerves too tight and gut too queasy. He envied the guys who could, the same as he envied the guys who could sleep wherever they sat, like their bodies knew this might be the last chance they got for a while. He felt like that now; too wound up with restless energy to shove food down and expect it to stay there.
Uncle Will hummed, and strode into the kitchen.
Aaron followed, his stump aching.
Uncle Will sat at the table, and unwrapped his burger. “Spoke to Quinn a little while ago,” he said, his gaze speculative.
Aaron’s stomach clenched. “Yeah?”
“He told me a hell of a thing,” Uncle Will said.
“Did he?”
Uncle Will snorted, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Cards on the table now, huh, kiddo?”
“You first,” Aaron said.
Uncle Will’s smile cranked up a few more degrees before his expression became somber again. “Well, apparently Quinn is a cop.” His shrewd gaze took in Aaron’s lack of surprise. “I was going to ask if you ever heard anything so crazy, but I guess you already did.”
Aaron dragged a chair out and sat heavily. “Yeah, I already did.”
“Hell of a thing,” Uncle Will repeated. And then tilted his head as if he was in thought. “Though he was always a smart kid. I guess it’s better to have him on the side of the angels, as goddamn surprising as it is.”
Aaron couldn’t help curling his lip at Uncle Will’s expression. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever calling what Quinn had been doing as being on the side of the angels. It was way too dark and dangerous for that. Quinn operated in the shadows, not the light.
Uncle Will took a bite of his burger, and chewed it slowly before swallowing, like a cow ruminating over cud. “He tells me he’s leaving,” he said. “With you and Charlie and Lennox.”
“That’s the plan,” Aaron said, guilt stabbing at him for Uncle Will having to hear it from Quinn, and not him.
“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me, son,” Uncle Will said, raising his eyebrows. “In fact, it sounds just as cockeyed as the rest of all this bullshit, like Quinn going to face Jimmy without backup.”
Aaron’s stomach clenched. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Uncle Will huffed out a breath. “I’m pretty fucking sure he’s got no idea, actually.”
Aaron curled his fingers into fists, his heart pounding. What if Uncle Will was right? Quinn had always been reckless—it was exactly what Aaron had always been unable to resist about him. What if that hadn’t changed?
“Aaron,” Uncle Will said, his voice firm, “I want you to leave town. You and Charlie and Lennox. Now.”
Aaron shook his head, “We’re waiting for Quinn. We said we’d wait.”
Uncle Will held Aaron’s gaze. “He can catch you up, kid.”
“No. We promised we’d wait.”
Everything—everything—had gone wrong last time because they hadn’t waited. And all three of them, Aaron and Quinn and Charlie, had spiraled off into different, shitty directions, because they should have found a way to stick together. Aaron could see it clearly now: it hadn’t just been his dad’s death that had broken him. It had been losing Quinn and Charlie as well. And he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
Uncle Will’s phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. “Well, that’s all I need.”
“What?”
Uncle Will rolled his eyes. “One of my deputies has called in sick for tonight. Guess I’m working a night shift!” He reached out and clasped his warm hand around Aaron’s wrist. “I mean it though, son. Don’t wait for Quinn. Or, if you have to, don’t wait out in the open when you might have a goddamn target on your back!”
“Why would I have a target on my back?” Aaron asked, his stomach twisting. “The clan doesn’t know about me and Quinn.”
“What?” Uncle Will shook his head. “Well, not you, maybe, but the kid. Jimmy isn’t going to take care of the line of succession and leave Quinn’s kid out of it, is he?”
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “That’s good advice. We’ll wait out of town maybe.”
“Good. That’s good.” Uncle Will looked relieved. “First bit of common sense I’ve heard all day. Now, I’m gonna go keep an eye on Quinn as best as I can, from a distance, because I don’t give a damn what he told me. He might need backup after all.”
A banging on the front door startled Aaron.
“It’s us!” Charlie called.
Aaron rose and made his way to the door, leaving Uncle Will to finish his burger and fries. He barely had the door open before Lennox was rushing in, wearing a pinched, pale face and a backpack that looked to be bursting at the seams.
Charlie followed with an old suitcase on wheels. “We’re taking your truck, right? That was the plan?”
“Yeah,” Aaron said.
Lennox had already walked through to the kitchen. “Hi, Sheriff Henderson!”
Aaron heard Uncle Will answer him, his voice warm with good humor.
Charlie raised her eyebrows. “The fuck?”
“He already knows,” Aaron assured her. “Quinn told him. About being a cop, and about how we’re gett
ing the hell out of here.”
“On, well, in that case…” Charlie let go of the suitcase and strode into the kitchen. “Sheriff. Didn’t you have a burger for lunch as well?”
Aaron leaned in the kitchen doorway and watched as Charlie headed for the refrigerator to pull out a soda.
Uncle Will raised his eyebrows. “Don’t try and nag me, Charlie Kyle. I’m immune.”
“Mountain Dew or Coke?” she asked.
“You’re a better host than Aaron,” Uncle Will said. “Coke.”
Charlie tossed the soda at him, and he caught it deftly and popped it open.
Lennox, sitting across from Uncle Will, stole a fry with a cheeky grin. Uncle Will pretended not to notice.
Aaron felt his throat aching as he watched. He was worried for Uncle Will, for whatever was coming to Spruce Creek, but he needed to get Charlie and Lennox out of here. He knew Uncle Will understood that.
He moved forward, grimacing at the pain in his leg.
“You want to sit down, Uncle Aaron?” Lennox asked.
“Thanks.” Aaron walked slowly over to the table.
That was when Uncle Will’s phone buzzed again, rattling gently on the tabletop where he’d left it after his last message, and Aaron just happened to be in the perfect position to see the screen as the notification flashed across it:
JM
He told you he’s a cop?
Aaron’s blood ran cold.
* * * *
Aaron was sixteen, numb with grief and shock, and sitting on the top step because he couldn’t bear to go down them any more than he could bear to go back to bed.
“But Will,” Mom cried, “where were you? Where were you?”
And Uncle Will just stood there, staring at nothing, with his arms wrapped around her. “I know, Grace. I know.”
“You were supposed to be with him! You were supposed to have his back!” Mom was lashing out in her grief, looking for someone to blame. “Will, why would he go out there alone?”
Aaron had thought she was being unfair.
Maybe she hadn’t been though.
Maybe it had been a hell of a good question.
* * * *
Aaron eased himself down into a chair, turning his head to smile at Lennox as Lennox squeezed past him, to mask his expression.
“Coke or Mountain Dew?” Charlie asked.
Aaron held her gaze, aware that out of the corner of his eye he could see Uncle Will tap a reply to the message. “There a water bottle in there?”
Charlie dug one out from somewhere, and came over to give it to him.
By the time Aaron cracked the seal, Uncle Will was eating his burger again.
He didn’t look any different. Why would he? He was exactly the same man Aaron had known his whole life.
The whole town had known that Robert MacGregor was crazy, and had a grudge against Sheriff Paul Larsen. Everyone knew it would come to a head one way or another. Aaron had seen the worry in his dad’s face, the tightening of the skin around his eyes because of the stress. And he’d overheard Dad promise Mom more than once that he wasn’t going to calls by himself. But for some reason he’d gone out to Dead Bend in the middle of the night, alone.
Aaron heard an echo of his mother’s voice again: “Where were you?”
And then, before Aaron could even wrap his head around what had happened, he and Mom were packed and leaving, and she’d never talked about Spruce Creek or Uncle Will again.
Had she known?
No, she would have told him if she did. But she must have suspected that it was more than a mistake that Dad had ended up at Dead Bend alone that night. Because he’d promised. He’d promised not to go to any callouts alone.
Had Uncle Will gone with him, stepping out of the way at just the right time to make him an easy target?
“Uncle Will says we should leave before Quinn,” Aaron said, keeping his voice even. “Says Quinn can catch us up.”
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. Her forehead creased with worry. “You think so, Sheriff Henderson?”
“I think,” Uncle Will said quietly, “that it’s very unlikely Quinn will be meeting you kids later.”
Charlie blanched.
Aaron felt sick to the stomach.
Uncle Will had made sure of that, hadn’t he?
* * * *
Aaron wasn’t sure how he got through the next ten minutes. When Uncle Will pulled him into a hug, Aaron wanted nothing more than to shove him roughly away, to grab for his gun. To hold it against his forehead and demand answers or something crazy like that. Instead he thanked Uncle Will for taking care of selling the house, and promised he and Charlie would leave now and hope Quinn would catch them up.
“To Vegas, probably,” he said when Uncle Will asked. “That’s the plan, anyhow.”
Charlie caught his gaze, but didn’t contradict him.
They waved Uncle Will off from the front door. Aaron kept his smile plastered on as the headlights of Uncle Will’s cruiser arced over his face as Will reversed down the driveway.
Then he slammed the door shut.
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked.
“Give me your keys,” Aaron said. “You and Lennox take my truck. Head east, like we planned. If you don’t hear from me, just keep heading east, okay?”
“Aaron!”
Aaron was aware that Lennox was staring, his dark eyes wide.
“I saw his phone,” he said, his voice rasping. “He had a message from ‘JM’. It said, ‘He told you he’s a cop?’”
Charlie clasped a hand over her mouth.
Aaron hugged her hard. “Get the hell out of here. Don’t stop unless you hear from me or Quinn.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, and handed him her car keys. “Please be careful.”
Aaron hurried out into the night.
Chapter 19
The warehouse was bigger than it looked on the outside, especially in the dim evening light. There was some sort of sitting space in the front with some old couches and a coffee table, and Quinn saw a fridge and a coffee maker in the corner. Made sense, in a way, for Jimmy’s guys to have somewhere to sit in their off time.
There was enough space in the front to back a large truck in, but there was very little Quinn could see contents-wise. He guessed all Jimmy’s merchandise was hidden behind the walls dividing the place.
“In here!” Jimmy called from somewhere deeper in the building.
Quinn walked through the closest open doorway into a space with crates and boxes.
Jimmy peered out from what must’ve been his office in the back corner. “Here.”
Quinn flashed him a smile. “This place is a bit of a maze, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I changed my mind about the layout after it was already built, so I got stuck with the back of it for my office.” Jimmy shrugged casually.
He seemed relaxed, which felt a bit weird, but Quinn wasn’t going to question it nor would he let his guard down.
He sat in a visitor’s chair and Jimmy went to his leather chair behind his desk. It was all less fancy than Quinn had envisioned, but maybe this was just a temporary location?
“I would’ve come to gather you from the front, but I didn’t hear your car,” Jimmy said, raising his brow in question.
“Oh, I saw Brody’s gates were open so I left my car there. I wasn’t sure if you had any deliveries coming in so I thought better stay out of the way,” Quinn replied casually. “It’s weird to see how little this town has really changed.”
“Yeah, didn’t his dad own the junkyard before him?” Jimmy leaned back in his chair, settling in.
“Yeah, it’s still the same, I guess. I talked to him in town a while back. He just took over and that’s it. Brody was never that ambitious.” Quinn shrugged.
Jimmy hummed. “So, I wanted to talk to you because a little birdie told me you were thinking about leaving town?”
This was it, Quinn thought. He had no idea what Jimmy kn
ew or thought he knew. Only one way to find out.
“Yeah, I’ve done what I came here to do, you know? The funeral is done, you’re in charge now. What would I stay here for?” Technically all true. Ish.
Jimmy mulled over the words, then sighed. “I was going to ask you to stay, actually.”
Quinn couldn’t help the way his eyes widened. “What?”
Chuckling, Jimmy shook his head. “Shit, you really weren’t here to take over, were you?”
“No, I’ve been honest from the start, Jimmy. I never fucking wanted the family business, why’d you think I left?”
“I thought it was because your mom made you.” Jimmy grinned, and for a moment there was a flash of the friend Quinn had had as a kid in the face of the man who had become his enemy.
Quinn laughed. “Yeah, well that’s a big part of it for sure. But like I said, I didn’t want this. Still don’t.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Jimmy grunted. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stick around and be my, well, Arthur.”
The sound of a motorcycle filtered through the warehouse then, and Jimmy frowned.
“Shit, give me a sec, I wasn’t expecting them tonight.”
“Yeah, sure.” Quinn waved a hand and tried to look relaxed.
Jimmy got up and went through the door to talk to his guest. Quinn sat in the chair and wondered how to get out of this. He could just go out after Jimmy and make his excuses, but he had a gut feeling that wouldn’t be smart.
So he waited.
After maybe five minutes, Jimmy came back, his cell phone in his hand and looking annoyed.
“Sorry about that,” he said, closed the door behind himself before sitting again.
“One of the Skulls?” Quinn asked, carefully stepping on what he knew to be very thin ice.
Jimmy put the cell on the desk and leaned back, huffing wryly. “Yeah.” Then he rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “Shit.”
For the first time, Quinn saw something in Jimmy’s expression that seemed to suggest he wasn’t as into whatever he was doing with the gang as he’d thought.