by Debra Kayn
Chapter 4
Nelson
June 1983
HIS DAD SHOVED A BROWN paper-wrapped package into his chest. Nelson stepped back, refusing to take the load of cocaine from his old man.
"You'll damn well deliver it, boy." His dad stepped forward. "Unless you want to lose everything around you. I can take the garage away from you faster than you can grab your shit and hit the road."
He stopped. When he could've hidden his money or hell, spent it on any damn thing he wanted, he'd bailed his dad out of debt again. He'd put as much money into the garage as he got out. What did he have to show for all his years of hard work?
A two thousand-dollar Harley Davidson with a top-end blown out when he rolled it home. At least he had the one thing he owned running now.
Pride in Steel Mechanics and a desire to make something of himself, he took the package from his father. "Where?"
It would be the first and last time he helped his dad in his new get-rich-quick scheme.
"On West Broadway, past the airport. He'll be in a black Jeep. You wait until he hands over twenty grand. Don't let him short-change you." His dad lit a cigarette. "Then, get your ass back here."
He grabbed a rag, draping it over the package. The Wild Walk Parade was scheduled to start in an hour. Most of the cops would be staged along the route, if not in the parade. As long as he skirted downtown, security at the airport, he'd make the exchange.
At his bike, he put the package in the saddlebag and slipped on his sunglasses. He wasted no time getting on the road. His dumbass brothers, since getting out of jail, only encouraged their dad to take the risk of being the fucking middleman to some nameless drug cartel that would rather kill them than support them.
He rounded the corner and spotted Scarlett running as fast as her arms could pump the air on the sidewalk. His shoulders tensed. Something was wrong.
He braked hard and made a U-turn, pulling up to the curb beside her. Scarlett ran straight toward him, using his body to stop her forward momentum.
He held her still. "What's wrong?"
"Men." Her cheeks flushed red, she heaved for breath. "Outside my house. Creepy looking."
He looked over her shoulder, but he couldn't see anything around the corner. "Where's your mom?"
"Work." She closed her mouth and swallowed. "Chuck's sleeping. I've been..." Scarlett sucked in air. "Sweeping the front walkway to the driveway like my mom asked, and they kept staring. I tried to go back in the house, and I'd locked myself out."
She wasn't making sense. Suspicious of anyone hanging around the neighborhood, knowing he was carrying a kilo of coke, he got paranoid. The risk to himself fled in his worry that someone was trying to kidnap Scarlett.
There'd been a rash of child kidnappings all over the United States since January. The only reason men would hang around close to her was if their intentions were to nab her.
"Go around the block and get in the black car outside Steel Mechanics. Stay there." He pushed her toward the sidewalk. "Run. Don't stop."
She took off without questioning him. He could read the fear consuming her. Her stepfather being home wasn't enough to make her feel secure, and she'd come to him for help.
He roared to the end of the block and turned without stopping at the stop sign. Just like Scarlett said, there was a strange car parked outside her house. He rode by, taking a long look. Their heads turned, and both men gazed at him.
In his side mirror, he watched the vehicle turn around in the middle of the street. They were going to follow him.
He went the opposite way, cutting through a residential block. Running stop signs, he zigzagged through the neighborhood until he could no longer see them behind him.
His jaw ached. He rode back toward Steel Mechanics, unable to ditch the bike to get to Scarlett. Once again, he damned his dad's involvement in the drug deal.
Knowing he couldn't stop and would have to act fast, he sped forward to get to Scarlett before he could do anything about his visitors.
Pulling up in front of the building, he hopped off his motorcycle and went straight to the car, knowing Scarlett would've done exactly what he told her to do.
He opened the door. She flew out and wrapped her arms around his waist. With no time to comfort her, he half carried her to the side of the building. He grabbed her upper arms and leaned down in front of her.
"Is the back door unlocked?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Lock yourself inside. If they show back up, call the police." He practically lifted her off her feet. "Run."
She hesitated. He pushed her away. "Now, fox. Run."
He watched until she disappeared behind one of the cars near the fence. Turning to ride out and lead the men away from the block, he almost knocked into his dad.
"What the hell are you doing with that girl when you're supposed—"
He stepped forward, bumping chest to chest with his dad. "Your shit almost got that girl hurt. You've opened your mouth one too many times, and somebody knows what you're doing."
"What are you—?"
"You'll be lucky if I make the delivery without getting killed. If something happens, it's on you." He shoved his old man. "Get out of my fucking face."
His dad stumbled and caught himself. "You better make that delivery."
Ignoring the threats aimed at his back, he stormed to his motorcycle and rode off. Pulled in two different directions, he damned his life.
His excuses for putting his life on the line, to somehow get back the money invested in a company that barely had their heads above water, seemed asinine. On days like today, he would give it all away—every tool, blood, sweat, and scar he'd earned over the years.
Scarlett was home safe, locked in the house, and scared to death. Even at her age, she could sense the difference between right and wrong. Those men put fear down deep in her soul.
Someday, she'd live her life not being reminded of how unknown men frightened her for reasons he wasn't sure she understood, but she recognized. She'd laugh. She'd love. She'd live each day seeing the goodness surrounding her.
But one reminder of how those men had made her feel, she'd again experience the way she felt vulnerable and fearful.
Someday, she'd realize he could've done more or protected her from even experiencing those feelings. He'd grow smaller and weaker in her eyes.
In his side mirror, a black car pulled out of a cross street and got behind him. On his Harley, he could quickly lose his followers. But getting pulled over for speeding while carrying a kilo of cocaine would put him behind bars.
Knowing the person who waited for the delivery would flee if the exchange wasn't made on time, and he'd wasted too much time already dealing with Scarlett, he opened the throttle and hoped he'd make it home to live his shithole of a life one more day.
Chapter 5
Scarlett
December 1984
THE FIRST DAY OF WINTER break started at ten o'clock when Scarlett finally woke up. She finished dressing and shoved her feet into her moon boots, grabbed her parka off the hook in her closet, and ran downstairs. Chuck's loud voice stopped her outside the kitchen.
She peeked inside the room, surprised to see her mom home and not at work.
"You can't kick me out, Tina." Chuck banged his fist against the cabinet. "You're mad. I get it, baby. But, we'll work things out. Give me time—"
"I've given you too long to straighten yourself out. I've asked you not to drink, and you promised me you'd look for another job and you haven't. I want you packed and out of here by noon." Her mom stood near the sink with her hands fisted at her sides. "It's over. I'm done waiting to see if you'll start putting some effort into our marriage. You're more concerned about yourself than Scarlett and me. I'm seeing an attorney in the morning. I want a divorce."
Scarlett's heart raced. Over the last couple of years, she'd hoped Chuck would leave. She never suspected her mom would demand he go.
"Tina..." Chuck reached for he
r.
Her mom stepped back. "I want you out of here by noon, Chuck, or I call the police to escort you out."
Scarlett jerked back, out of sight. She wanted to go to her mom but was afraid showing up when they fought would give Chuck someone to blame.
Walking backward, she quietly escaped to the family room and left through the sliding door. In the backyard, she trudged through the snow. Not bothering to put the hood of her coat over her head, she clumsily hurried toward the fence.
The snow overnight filled the clearing she'd created yesterday. Using her booted foot, she dragged the four inches of new snow away from the boards and then crawled through the space she'd made.
She had to tell Nelson what she'd overheard. Maybe he'd know if it was true.
Her mom got in lots of fights with Chuck. Mostly grownup arguments about jobs, drinking and doing his share of the chores around the house.
Lowering her head against the wind, she hurried to the back of the building. She stayed under the eaves where there wasn't any snow and rounded the side. Large snowflakes started falling.
In the front of Steel Mechanics, she stopped, looking around for Mr. Steel. Not hearing or seeing him, she checked for Butch and found him eating out of his bowl inside the last bay. The thick chain hung from around his neck.
She thought when she turned fourteen years old, she'd lose her fear of the dog. Or, at least, Butch would give up trying to kill her. No such thing happened.
Any time she was near, Butch would lunge and snap its mouth at her.
Luckily, Nelson had bought a collar with spikes on it that faced the dog's neck. Butch wouldn't get poked unless he charged after her. Sometimes the collar worked. Sometimes Butch acted like he couldn't even feel the pointy metal parts.
A clattering noise came from the other side of the truck inside the garage bay. She walked around the fender and found Nelson stumbling over the rolling creeper.
She stopped. His odd movements were strange compared to the way he usually walked.
"Nelson?" she said, not wanting to startle him.
He reached out and grabbed the fender of the truck. "Go home, fox."
His muffled voice, deeper and rougher than usual, concerned her. He remained hunched over, the waist of his jeans riding low on his hips.
She approached him and leaned forward to look at his face and gasped. Blood ran—not dripped—from his nose. There was a cut under his swollen eye.
Instantly, she knew what had happened. His father had taken his anger out on Nelson again, and he'd refused to fight back.
She slipped under his arm and hugged his waist, trying to lift his weight to help him.
"You need to sit down. I'll get a clean rag for your nose." She stumbled under his weight and forced herself to keep going toward the desk in the back of the garage.
In her concern for Nelson, she'd forgotten about Butch until he started fiercely barking. She stopped, unsure if she should go closer.
"He's tied." Nelson spat blood and groaned.
She used the extra adrenaline to get him to the chair. He fell onto the seat.
"I'll be right back." She turned to walk away, and he called her name.
"There's a-a T-shirt in the saddlebag on my bike. It's clean." He palmed his forehead and let his head hang between his legs. "Ice in the freezer, over in the corner."
She nodded, even though he wasn't looking. Hurrying to gather everything, she planned to call her mom from the phone in the garage the second she had Nelson taken care of. Her mom could drive him to the hospital.
Keeping the shirt from touching the dirty ground, she ran to the fridge and opened the top compartment. Not wasting time picking out the ice, she carried the container back to Nelson.
She spread the shirt out on the top of the desk and dumped the whole collection of ice in the middle. Folding the material, she kept the ice from falling out. "Hold this on your face."
Putting the bundle in his hands, he tilted his head back. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks at the first full inspection of his face. It was worse than she'd imagined.
"I'm going to call my mom." She brought his hands up and made him put the ice on his nose. "You need to go to the hospital."
"No." He groaned but kept the homemade pack on his face. "It's only a broken nose. I've had one before."
"Then, I'll call the police. They can come and—"
"I said, I'm fine." He straightened his head and spit.
There was blood coming out of his mouth. She hugged her middle, feeling sick.
"Did your dad—?"
"Yeah." He inhaled deeply. "He's gone."
"But, he'll come back."
Nelson lowered the shirt full of ice and blinked his eyes open. She could barely see the brown around his pupils with all the swelling. "I'm going to kill him someday."
"Don't say that," she whispered.
"It's been coming for a long time, fox," he whispered back. "If I don't, he'll kill me first."
She shivered, dropping to her knees in front of him. Not wanting to hurt him more, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.
"Why does he hate you so much?" She pressed her face into his stomach.
Nelson was the nicest person she knew. Even when he acted like he wanted her to leave him alone, he took the time to talk with her. He'd also let her eat out of the vending machine in the garage without paying when his dad wasn't around.
"He has his reasons."
"He's stupid," she muttered.
Nelson's hand landed on her head. She reached up and clasped his hand, taking it to her chest. Holding on to him, she promised herself when she graduated high school, she'd save all the money she received as gifts, like her sister had, and give it all to Nelson.
He could take the money and start over somewhere else, away from his father.
"Stop your crying." He nudged her off him and removed the ice from his face. "I need to take a piss."
She scrambled to her feet and helped lift him from the chair. "You're hurt really bad."
"I'll be fine tomorrow." He hobbled away.
She watched him go into the little room and shut the door. Her chest hurt, wishing there was more she could do for him.
Butch growled, lowering its head. She backed away. Knowing Nelson would be mad at her, she ran out of the garage and headed toward the back lot.
The snow made her progress slower. She crawled under the fence and fell in the mound of snow. Crying, she struggled to her feet and forged ahead to the sliding glass door.
"Mom!" She rushed through the house. "Mom!"
Her mom came to the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"Nelson's dad beat him up. He's bleeding out his nose and mouth." She ran up the steps and grabbed her hand. "You need to come and make him go to the hospital."
"Lord, Scarlett. Mr. Steel already threatened to call the cops if he finds you on his property again. You promised not to go over there."
"But, Mom. Nelson's hurt real bad." She tugged on her mom's hand, crying. "Please?"
"I need to get my shoes on." Her mom exhaled loudly, looking behind her. "You'll have to go with me. I don't want you to stay here by yourself."
Chuck appeared in the upstairs hallway. "What's going on?"
"None of your business, Chuck." Her mom grabbed Scarlett's arm and took her downstairs with her.
She went to the sliding door while her mom slipped on her shoes and grabbed her purse. Unable to see beyond the backyard from the first floor of the house, she found her mom's car keys for her and together walked out the front door. They'd have to drive around the block.
"At least the plow cleared the street," muttered her mom.
Getting in the car, she sat on the edge of the seat, ready to jump out as soon as they arrived. "Hurry, mom. We have to get there before his dad comes back."
"I'm going as fast as the speed limit." Her mom turned the corner. "That family is bad, Scarlett. I don't want you hanging out over there."
"
Nelson's not bad. His family is."
"Still. It's not right. He's too old to have a little girl hang—"
"Gross, Mom." She huffed. "I'm fourteen years old."
Her mom's gaze narrowed, and her mouth tightened. "Too young."
When the car stopped, she rushed out. Her mom came around to her side. Scarlett shook her head, heaviness filling her.
"Where is he?" asked her mom.
Her throat closed. "Gone."
"What do you mean, he's gone?"
She pointed to the overhang by the walk-in door where he parked in the winter to keep the snow off his Harley. "His motorcycle is gone."
"Maybe he took himself to the hospital."
She turned. All three garage doors were closed.
Nelson wouldn't have gone to the hospital. Part of her hoped he took off and would never come back. He'd be safe. His father couldn't hurt him anymore.
The other part of her already missed him.
Chapter 6
Nelson
May 1984
THE CROWD ATTENDING the street fight closed in, leaving no opening for either one of the participates to escape. Nelson walked out in the designated area.
He had nothing to lose, nothing to win. Just a whole bunch of anger that needed to get out of him before he self-destructed.
"Get him," yelled the crowd.
He stared at the man challenging him. At six feet tall, the man was built like a brick. A backwoods Montana man, born and raised.
Nelson fisted his hands, walking around his opponent. "Come on, man."
Taunting the man, Nelson wanted him to make the first move. He needed the pain, the shock, the violence to unleash the anger poisoning him.
The hit came fast. His head snapped back. The curtain of numbness fell over him. He roared forward, swinging.
Holding nothing back, he exchanged punches, looking for any opening. He breathed through each jab to his ribs, knowing he'd lose his breath if he held everything inside. Living with his father had taught him how to ignore the pain.
His shoulders strained. Losing his balance, he wrapped his arm around the other man, pummeling him with his fist.