by Tess Sharpe
“Yep,” I say.
“Did your daddy give you your gift yet?” Sarah asks, dishing out a piece of chocolate cake onto a paper plate, handing it to me.
“Not yet,” I say. “He says it’s a surprise.”
“I bet it’s something big,” Sarah says, with a conspiratorial wink.
“How are the babies?” Brooke asks.
“Good.” Sarah strokes her stomach. “Almost here.”
“We gotta talk about your baby shower,” I tell Sarah. “Sal and Miss Lissa wanted to do something for you.”
“Aren’t you sweet.” Sarah beams at us. “We’d love that.”
“There you are!” Troy pounces on her from behind, wrapping his arms around her. He kisses her on the cheek loudly. “I want me some cake.”
Sarah laughs, bending down to grab him a plate.
“C’mon, Harley,” Troy says, jerking his head toward the bonfire, where Daddy and his men are grouped.
I look over at Brooke, whose eyebrows knit together. “I’m gonna stay here and help Sarah with the cake,” she says.
“You excited?” Troy asks, as we begin to walk toward the bonfire. “Big day.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”
I don’t hesitate when we join Daddy and his men. I take my place at his right, where I belong. Buck shifts out of the way, and his shoulders tense, but I ignore it as Daddy hands me a beer with a smile.
They talk about everything and nothing as we stand there, everyone else around keeping their distance, knowing better than to bother Duke and his boys. Occasionally, their eyes go to me, their cheeks flushing when they say too crude a word, and Daddy just keeps smiling, smug, pleased. This is the new normal. This is my place, I remind myself. But I feel sick to my stomach, and it’s not from the beer.
After the food’s been eaten, the sleepy children are driven back home by their mothers. The cooks are the last to file out, hours past midnight. Cooper and Wayne hang back.
“We got something special for you,” Cooper says as Wayne holds out a long, thin box.
I flip it open. Inside, nestled in black velvet, is a machete, like the one Wayne keeps strapped to his leg.
I look into his eyes, and his mouth quirks up. “I’ll teach you how to use it,” he promises.
I hug both of them tight. “Thank you,” I say.
When they drive off, it’s just me and Daddy left. Miss Lissa and Will are back at the cabin, and Jake’s gone into town, probably to visit the woman he sees, the one I’m pretty sure only I know about.
“Good birthday, Harley-girl?” Daddy asks.
“The best,” I say. “Thank you.”
“It’s a big day,” Daddy says. “C’mon. I’ve got something to show you.”
He takes me out to the new barn, the red steel one he had built a few years back, to house the four-wheelers and Gators he kept on the property. He pulls the door open with a flourish, and inside is an old S10, painted a sandy gold.
My heart twists when I see the chunk of turquoise hanging from the rearview mirror.
Momma’s truck. He kept it all these years, but it’s been stored at the lumberyard for as long as I can remember.
“I fixed it up for you,” Daddy says.
Part of me can’t believe it. Even though he lets me off the property now, I’m never alone. I always have Jake or Busy or Will or him with me. A truck of my own means freedom.
“You’re gonna need wheels now that you’re working for me.”
The elation floods out of me like air in a balloon.
This isn’t about freedom.
This is about power. Everything is. And I understand it, I do.
But I don’t know if I want it. But I don’t have a choice, do I?
Daddy tosses something at me, and I almost miss catching the keys. I manage at the last second, and it makes him laugh, fondness shining in his eyes.
He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time, and I want to keep it that way, so I get in the truck and smile, because I know it’ll please him.
“Where are we going?”
“Drive up to the lookout,” he says.
I pull the truck out of the barn, heading toward the forest and the back ways that weave up the mountain.
By the time we’ve made it up to the ridge that overlooks the valley the homestead’s set in, dawn’s cresting across the sky. Daddy gets out of the truck, leaning against the hood, and I follow.
From here, our place looks like a dollhouse, the meadow and the cabin that lies beyond it little patches of green and brown. The forest is bigger than you can imagine, even from this vantage point, where all you can see is acres and acres of old-growth pines as far as you can look.
“It’s a beautiful sight,” Daddy says.
I nod.
When it comes to this, home, I understand him fully.
“I have something else for you,” Daddy says, digging in his back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. At first, I think it’s either a letter or some sort of makeshift birthday card, but when I unfold it, I see it isn’t.
It’s a list of women’s names with dollar amounts next to them.
“What’s this?” I ask, even though I think I know.
“Your job,” Daddy says. “Every month, you’ll collect those amounts from the women on this list.”
“They owe you money?”
He nods. “Banks are bullshit, Harley Jean. Hardworking people get turned down for loans all the time. So men like me help them out.”
I look down at the list and see the name Haley Talbot is third.
Brooke’s mom.
I bite my lip. “And if they don’t take me seriously?”
“You make them,” Daddy says.
It’s an order, and I know it.
Daddy puts his arm around me, drawing me close. “Sixteen,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “I can’t believe it.”
I lean my head against him and we watch the sun rise over the valley.
It’s a new day.
It’s a new life.
Whether I want it or not.
Thirty-Two
June 7, 12:00 p.m.
When we get to Fir Hill, I help Will unstrap and unload his bike in the parking lot. We stand there awkwardly for a second, and I’m so aware that if things go wrong, I might never see him again. It makes me want to trash the whole plan. To just run away like he wants.
“Are you sure?” he asks me.
I nod.
He draws me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Then be safe,” he says.
He turns and walks into Fir Hill, and never once does he look back.
He knows I’ll crumble if he does.
Will showing up had been a distraction from what was to come. What’s waiting for me at the Tropics and how I react—how I sell my story—will determine everything.
I have to be focused. I have to make them believe me.
I drive away from Fir Hill, heading back west on 299. Coming into town, I take the off-ramp, drive down the main drag, and at Market Street, I take a left and pull into the Tropics parking lot. Cooper’s old blue Dodge is already parked outside, along with Buck’s Jeep and a few other familiar vehicles. They’re all here.
My palms are sweating, and it’s not from the heat. I know there’s a hornet’s nest waiting for me inside. I park next to Cooper and gingerly get out of my Chevy. My head and ribs ache, my black eye is throbbing, my nose is swollen, and I can still feel Brooke’s sharp jabs. I pull the flannel shirt tighter as I walk toward the bar.
The neon sign is dark, there’s a CLOSED poster on the door, and it’s locked, so I knock. Once. Twice. Three times.
It slowly swings open, and for a second, all I see is Sal’s silhouette, a shotgun in her hands.
“Jesus, Harley!” she says, stepping into the light when she sees my face. “Honey!” She grabs me, pulling me inside and snapping the door shut, locking it firmly behind us. “What happened?”
I sigh. �
��Bobby Springfield,” I say. “He jumped me.”
“Oh my God, ” Sal whispers. “The boys are in the back. Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be okay.”
“Go on, then,” she says. There’s fear all over her face.
I wish I could tell her it’s gonna be okay. Sal’s nice. She’s always done right by the bar and by me.
I can hear the voices now as I move through the dark, empty space. Angry voices, coming from the back room.
I don’t knock. I just push the doors open and step inside.
When the light hits me, a hush falls over the room.
“Harley!” Cooper’s up off his feet, hurrying toward me. Wayne, his silent shadow, is close to follow. Wayne doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s usually worth listening to. The rest of the guys cluster around me too, worry and fear in their eyes.
“Who did this?” Cooper reaches forward, touching my bruised cheek lightly.
It doesn’t hurt, but I fake a flinch, looking up at him, my eyebrows drawn together—the image of the helpless, scared girl that Duke trained right out of me.
“Bobby Springfield,” I say again. “I was heading home last night, and he forced my truck off the road. He…” I trail off, waiting for his imagination take him there. Waiting for his heart to get seized with that murderous rage. “I got away before he could…” I say. “But he got me good.” I wave at my face. “First Carl attacks one of the Rubies. Now Bobby attacks me. The Springfields are up to something. I don’t know what—”
“I do,” Cooper cuts in. He whirls around, glaring at Buck, the only man who didn’t leap to his feet when I came in. “How did you not see this coming?”
“Hey—” Buck protests.
“Duke put you in charge!” Cooper thunders. “And you fuck it up so bad that not only does Springfield blow one of our labs to kingdom come, but his piece-of-shit nephew put his hands on Harley!”
“Wait—what?!” I say, letting a shocked expression settle over my face. “What are you talking about?”
The other men look down at the floor, like they don’t want to meet my eyes. Wayne sighs, walking over to sit at the table.
Buck glares at me.
“Springfield blew a lab?” I ask, letting my voice go dark and angry. I stalk over to the table, making sure I take a moment to look around the room, like I’m taking count. “When? Which one? Is everyone okay?” I ask Cooper.
He nods, grimacing in fury. “Last night. The trailer out east of Viola. Troy and Dale were lucky to get out,” he says.
I look over to them. “Are you guys all right?” I say again.
They nod, looking scared and sheepish.
“We’re so sorry, Harley,” Troy says.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth. Troy’s got twin boys at home, and Sarah stays home with them because the littler twin has some problem with his legs. She’d be screwed if something happened to him. I turn to Buck. “What happened?” I ask. I wait a beat and then say, “Are we sure it was Springfield?” because they need to be sure for themselves, without me pushing them.
“Springfield set a fire,” Buck says with a sneer. “And these idiots”—he jerks his thumb at Troy and Dale—“both went to deal with it. Left the trailer unguarded. Son of a bitch jacked the product and blew up the trailer. And spray-painted Death to McKenna on the fucking meadow. Who else but Springfield would have the balls to do that?”
“Jesus,” I say, my shoulders slumping. I sit down, my eyes wide, staring at my hands for a long moment. “What did Duke say?”
“He hasn’t called me back yet,” Buck says.
There’s a ripple in the air when he says those words. An almost invisible shifting of the men around me.
They’re without their leader. They don’t know what to do.
They’re going to turn to either Buck or me. I gotta make sure it’s me.
“He hasn’t—” I snap my fingers. “Give me a phone. Mine’s dead.”
Cooper hands me his phone, and I dial Duke’s number. It clicks immediately over to voice mail. Just like I knew it would, since it’s turned off and sitting in my glove box.
“Duke,” I say. “Call me back. We have a problem.”
I hang up and hand the phone back to Cooper, zeroing in on Buck. “Okay. You know him when he’s in Mexico. He disappears into some hole-in-the-wall bar and gets drunk off his ass. When he finds his phone, he’ll call.”
“That could be days,” Buck says. “Springfield’s just getting started. What if he hits the warehouse next?”
“What’s your plan?” I ask, because I know it has to be a stupid one. I just need to draw him out, like a deer to a salt lick.
And then bam.
“Load up. Duke’s still got the shipment of guns at your place, right?”
I nod, letting him dig his grave.
“I stopped by the warehouse and grabbed the guns there. Those plus the gun shipment should give us enough firepower. We go take Springfield out. He broke the truce. Duke would do the same thing.”
Cooper snorts. As usual, Wayne is silent, but his eyes narrow a little, like he thinks Buck’s stupid.
“I don’t get why he’s finally fucking stuff up now,” Troy mutters. “It’s been years.”
“Who cares?” Buck says. “Point is, he did it. So he pays.”
“We already have a plan in place for this,” Cooper says. “When a lab gets blown, we lay low. We don’t go start any fucking war. Especially when Duke’s not here.”
“Was the warehouse okay when you checked?” I demand.
“Everything was fine,” Buck says. “No one knows it’s there. He’s not gonna find it.”
“Are you kidding me? He managed to track the guys eighty miles into the national forest. You think he can’t find the warehouse?”
Buck’s frown deepens. “It’s secure,” he growls.
I ignore him. “Dale!” I bark, and he looks up at me, relieved that someone’s telling him what to do. “Wayne is going to take you to the warehouse. Get all the finished product—if Springfield hasn’t jacked it yet—and then call me.”
“What about the chemicals?” Troy asks from the back of the room.
“He’s right,” Dale says. “The barrels—it’ll have to be dark. We’d need one of the trucks.”
“Just get the product out,” I say. “We’ll get the chemicals in the second round.” I turn back to Cooper. “Where else are we holding?”
“Trucking yard,” Cooper answers. “Shipment was scheduled to go out tomorrow.”
“Pull it,” I order him. “Send our apologies to our buyers down in L.A. Refund them the money plus ten percent. Tell them they’ll get another ten off the next shipment because of the trouble. Be nice. Be apologetic. But don’t be truthful. Tell them it was a bad batch or something. Quality control. Paint it like we didn’t want a string of ODs on their hands.”
“On it,” Cooper says briskly, standing up. “I’ll be—”
“Wait just a second,” Buck interrupts. “We need to go after Springfield. We need to keep the product moving.”
I move right up in his face and stare in his mean little eyes. “No, Buck. We need to lay low, pull all the product, and not draw any attention to ourselves.” I spell it out slowly, like I’m talking to a little kid.
“We’ve got the sheriff controlled,” Buck snarls. “He won’t come after us.”
“And what about the DEA?” I ask. “Law has to report the explosion. And even if Sheriff Harris buries the details, we still have the Forest Service to deal with. And then the firefighters—they’ll make a report, so CDF’s involved, too. And, if I remember correctly, my name was spray-painted on the grass for all to see. They’ll come for us.”
“We can strong-arm the Forest Service and the CDF,” Buck says. “Buy them off.”
“We don’t own them,” Cooper says. “They can go report whatever the fuck they want. And you know the Forest Service wi
ll because they’re a bunch of tree-hugging hippies who care about pines and cottonwoods more than their own damn lives.”
“Jesus,” Buck swears, looking back and forth at Cooper and me. “It’s like you don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t,” I say. “It’s not the time. It’s not the protocol.” I turn to the rest of the men and take my chance. “Does anyone disagree?”
In the silence, I look around. Buck starts to say something, but then thinks better of it. The other men won’t meet my eyes, but they shake their heads. I’ve got them.
For years now, we’ve been in a long stretch of peace, precarious, but holding up to now. Most of them started working for Duke after Springfield was sent to prison. They don’t remember the world when Duke was still building his empire, brick by bloody brick. He’s had control of North County for over a decade. They’re not fighters—not the kind we’d need for the war Buck wants to start.
Luckily, I’m all I need for the kind of war I’m waging.
“Good.” I nod. “I knew I could count on you. We need to secure whatever Springfield could steal. Then we figure out how to deal with him…after the heat from the blown lab dies down. If I sent that shipment down south, what’s to say Springfield’s not waiting to jack the truck?” I turn back to Buck, scorn written all over my bruised face. “We don’t even know if he’s hit the warehouse because you didn’t bother to take the product out of there.”
“I was busy!” Buck roars.
“You’re a lazy motherfucker,” I spit out. “And you’re not thinking ahead. If Springfield wipes us out of product, it’ll take a month to get back up running…longer if he destroys more of the labs. So we pull all the product. We’ll keep it at the house, like Duke did last time a lab blew.” I turn to Cooper. “That’s what he did last time, right?” I ask, like I don’t remember in perfect detail.
Cooper nods. “It’s what he’d want us to do now.”
I turn to Buck expectantly. The rest of the men are silent and tense, not knowing who to side with, but afraid to cross me. Afraid to cross Duke.