A Cry in the Dark

by Denise Grover Swank

  A few men muttered capisce but didn’t ask any questions.

  “Now, you newcomers are lucky. To celebrate Carly joinin’ our team, she’ll be passin’ out a round of free beers for y’all.”

  “I don’t want a damn beer,” one of the men shouted. “I want a whiskey.”

  Max’s hard gaze landed on him, and they had a momentary staring contest until Max said, “Then when Carly comes around with your beer, you’ll give her a polite ‘no, thank you,’ and when she’s finished passing out everyone else’s drinks, you can order your whiskey.”

  “That’s bullshit, Maxwell!” another man shouted.

  “You’re always free to walk your lazy ass up to the bar and order it from me,” Max said with an ornery grin. “I don’t smell as nice as Carly and I’m definitely not as good of company, but suit yourself.” He shrugged, then spun around and headed to the bar, giving me a glance that suggested I should follow.

  When we got behind the bar, I said sarcastically, “Thanks for the warning.”

  An apologetic look washed over his face as he started filling a mug. “I didn’t want to scare you, and I had no idea what kind of mood they’d be in when they finally showed up.”

  “Why did they all come together in a pack?” I asked. “And why would their moods collectively change from night to night?”

  “Most of them hang out together, and I’d heard they were havin’ a meetin’ earlier. They must have headed over here after it broke up.” His tone suggested he knew what they’d been up to but didn’t feel like elaborating.

  I frowned, wondering if I’d just jumped into a hornet’s nest. Did it matter since I’d be leaving in a few days? That brought up another good question. “Why are you spending all this money on me?” I asked, gesturing to the mugs. “I doubt I’ll be here long enough to make it worth your while.”

  He winked. “My momma always told me to be sweet to pretty ladies. Just doin’ like she taught.”

  “I know you’re doin’ it so they’ll like me more, but still, Max. That’s a lot of beer.”

  “I ain’t fillin’ ’em all that full,” he said, putting a three-fourths-full mug on the tray as if to prove his point. “Besides, some of ’em don’t like it when Lula takes off. They’ll be inclined to like you more and not give me grief, which makes my job easier. Win-win.”

  I took it we were buttering up the first group of men to tip me well. The second group we were bribing to not stir up trouble, although some had visibly flinched at Max’s casual suggestion that Tiny would cause them bodily injuries if they got out of line.

  I carried the first tray over and started passing out the beer. It was obvious this group wasn’t as chatty as the first lot, but a guy in his mid to late twenties shot me a curious gaze.

  “What are you doin’ in these parts?”

  “Just stoppin’ through for a few days,” I said with a huge smile. “And helpin’ Max out while Lula is gone.”

  “We’re not used to strangers around here,” he said. “How’d you find out about the job?”

  It wasn’t any of his business, but I figured he’d likely find out anyway since it was such a small town. Might as well look friendly and pretend I had nothing to hide. “My car broke down out at the overlook. I’m staying here while I’m waiting for it to get repaired.”

  “You were out at the overlook?” asked a guy with a handlebar mustache and a pockmarked face. “What were you doin’ out there?”

  “I guess I was doin’ what most people do out there—takin’ in the pretty view.” My smile was starting to make my cheeks hurt. Why was this guy so suspicious of me?

  “Ain’t nobody go out there no mores,” another guy said. He said something else, but it was drowned out by an eruption of loud cheering.

  The Titans had made a touchdown.

  I started to move on to the next table, but the guy who’d spoken last grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, making some of the beers slosh on the tray.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked. “Wyatt’s garage?” He wore an AC/DC T-shirt so old and threadbare it looked like it had been worn nearly every day since its purchase at a concert when the band was in its heyday. Only, the guy was young enough that he must have gotten it at a thrift store or from his father’s closet.

  “One and the same,” I said, careful to keep my cheerful tone intact as I made a show of extracting my arm. “He towed it down a few hours ago.”

  Thankfully, the guy didn’t try to grab me again. “He didn’t say nothin’ about it when I saw ’im.”

  My smile started to slip, but I tightened my cheek muscles. “Well, I sure hope it was Wyatt Drummond that took off with my Honda hooked up to the back of his tow truck or I’m in a world of trouble.”

  That produced some laughter, and I moved on to the next table to pass out the remaining two beers on my tray.

  I set a beer in front of a guy who was leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, studying me like I was a crib sheet for his final exam in trigonometry. He had dark brown hair that hung over his ears and his collar, but not long enough to be pulled back into a man bun or ponytail.

  “How long you plannin’ on stayin’?” he asked in a dark tone. He adjusted his arms, and it struck me that he was powerfully built for a man who appeared to be in his forties.

  I tried not to let him know he’d rattled me and gave him a flippant answer. “I guess as long as it takes for Wyatt to fix my car.”

  “And how long’s that gonna be?”

  I set the last beer in front of his companion, then put my hand on my hip and infused plenty of attitude into my stance. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe Wyatt will conference-call us both so we can find out together.”

  He sat up so quickly his chair legs slammed into the floor. “This here’s my town and I ain’t gotta put up with your shit.”

  I stared at him in disbelief, taking a half second to come up with an appropriate response. Ignore him or rip him a new one? It helped that I knew Max kept a baseball bat behind the bar.

  But Max beat me to it.

  “Hey!” he shouted, setting down the mug he’d been filling with a loud thud. Beer sloshed out over the sides and onto the counter. He placed his hand flat on the bar next to the mug, leaning forward with hard eyes. “This is your only warnin’, Bingham.”

  Bingham’s face was a mask of contempt as he slowly lifted his hands up next to his head, showing Max his flexed fingers and empty palms. “I didn’t lay a hand on ’er.”

  But the look in his gray eyes told me he was a dangerous man. It was easy to see that he didn’t like being issued orders—and liked following them even less. If the Drummonds were seen as some sort of authority in this town, it was little wonder he seemed challenging.

  Max tilted his head ever so slightly, the small gesture banishing the good-natured, affable man I’d known for the past two hours. “I’m pretty damn sure I made myself clear just moments ago. Do I need to bring Tiny out to show you how to treat the staff? He’s busy as shit, gettin’ a mess of wings ready for y’all, but he’d be more than happy to oblige if you’re being disrespectful to Carly.”

  Bingham held Max’s gaze for several long seconds as he slowly dropped his hands, and I had a wild fancy that Bingham was about to whip out a six-shooter for an Old West shoot-out. Instead, he gave me a sarcastic grin. “Welcome to Drum, new girl.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to let him see my shaking hands. I gripped the tray so hard I was surprised it didn’t break in half as I made my way back to the bar. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it had scared the shit out of me.

  Max had his eyes on Bingham as he filled a mug, while Bingham’s gaze was still firmly on me. The beer overflowed onto Max’s hand, and he flipped the tap shut and set the mug on a second, half-full tray. He snuck a glance at me and murmured, “You okay?”

  No. I was stuck in a one-stop-sign town with a potential maniac who obviously detested me, with no way to escape fo
r several days. Oh, and I was hiding from two people who should love me. I was far from okay, but I’d be damned if I’d admit it. “I’m fine.”

  “He’s in your section, but I’ll have Ruth cover his table,” Max said, shooting me a guilty look. “I should have warned you. Bingham has his good days and his bad.”

  “I sure as hell hope this was a bad day,” I muttered.

  Max made a face, letting me know he could get a whole lot worse.

  Even so, something refused to let me back down. I was sick to death of bullies.

  “He doesn’t scare me,” I said.

  Max’s eyebrows shot up.

  I lowered my voice. “Okay, he does a little, but I’m sure as hell not gonna let him know it.” An ounce of fear would be like blood in shark-infested water. Rose, the woman I’d lived with back in Arkansas, had taught me a lot about dealing with rough men. She didn’t let any of them run roughshod over her, and neither would I. Sometimes the only way to get respect was to demand it. No more kowtowing. Carly Moore would be fierce. “I can do this.”

  He nodded slowly, a grim look plastered on his face. “Okay. But don’t antagonize him, and if you get into trouble, look my way. I’ll jump in immediately, and Tiny is literally three seconds away. He may be big, but he can move fast.”

  “Thanks,” I said, meaning it. I’d worked a lot of jobs in my thirty-one years and never had a boss back me up like this. It was obvious he truly cared about his staff. He thought of them as family. It warmed my heart to realize I was part of that group, if only for a few days.

  I picked up the tray and steeled my resolve as I headed back to Bingham’s table to finish handing out beers to the rest of the men.

  An amused grin lit up Bingham’s face as he held his hands out at his sides. “And she’s back for more.”

  I gave him a sweet smile as I served the other men sitting with him. “I can’t leave your friends thirsty just because you and I got off on the wrong foot.”

  He didn’t say anything else and I moved on to the next table, but I could feel his eyes pinned to my back—or perhaps my ass—as I made the rounds to the twenty or so new guys.

  I’d just handed out my last beer when the door opened again. Wyatt walked in, a cold breeze trailing in with him. A few flakes of snow clung to his dark brown hair and his brown jacket. His cheeks were tinged pink from the wind.

  My breath caught at the sight of him. He scanned the room, and my heart skipped with anticipation…until his gaze landed on me. He stopped in his tracks, but it was clear he was anything but happy to see me—his expression hardened and he made his way to the bar as if on a mission.

  “What’s Wyatt doin’ here?” I heard one of the men ask. “Can’t remember the last time I saw him here.”

  “Dunno,” a second guy said, but he flicked a glance in my direction.

  Me? While I could see that I was the variable here, why would Wyatt give two shits about me other than worrying about me stiffing him on his bill?

  Max walked down to the end of the bar to greet his brother, but from the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a friendly reunion. So this was why he hadn’t paid a visit in some time. The brothers clearly didn’t get along.

  I shot a glance to Ruth, who was watching with open interest. She gestured for me to join her by the food counter.

  “Do you know what that’s about?” Ruth asked.

  Although they were much too far to have heard us, the Drummonds both turned to look at me before facing each other again, Wyatt’s mouth pressing into a tight line.

  “Holy shit, they’re arguing over you.” Her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “I have no idea why they’d be doing that,” I said, trying not to panic. “Wyatt and I didn’t exactly hit it off, but I didn’t do anything to elicit him coming in and chewing out his brother.”

  “Oh, I suspect you’re not the cause of it,” she said. “Just an excuse. They’ve been feuding since before Wyatt went to prison.”

  That sucked the air out of my lungs. “Prison?”

  She made a face, her gaze still on the two brothers. “DUI. There were a couple of other charges, robbery and breaking and entering, but the robbery charges didn’t stick because the only witness disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  There was a second-long delay before she acknowledged my question. Waving her hand in dismissal, she said, “Not like you’re thinking. Everyone’s of the mind the Drummonds paid her off to keep quiet and she left town.”

  That made me feel better. Sort of.

  “The real question is why Wyatt Drummond gives two figs about you,” she said, her gaze landing on me as she gave me a once-over with heightened interest.

  “I can assure you that Wyatt Drummond isn’t interested in me. Although I’m grateful he came along, he was downright rude to me on the drive down the mountain.” But there was no denying he’d been friendly enough until I’d refused to involve the sheriff. He clearly thought I was up to no good.

  She shrugged. “That’s Wyatt. Ever since he came back from prison, he’s been distant. Prison changed him.”

  I resisted the urge to shudder. “How long’s he been back?”

  Her mouth twisted to the side as she considered it. “About five years, I guess. He took over the service station and got himself a tow truck. I’m surprised he came back at all, considering.”

  “Because he went to prison?”

  “Nah,” she scoffed, looking amused. “Hell, a good third of the guys in this room have done time. It’s because of his family.” She leaned closer. “The Drummonds practically owned Drum once upon a time, and they didn’t take to Wyatt besmirching their good name.”

  Bingham had called Drum his town, and the way he’d said it wasn’t out of pride for his hometown. Had he taken over the ownership? “Because of his conviction?”

  She laughed. “Hell, you really aren’t from around here. No, because he denounced them. Rumor has it they cut him off, but that makes everyone question where he got the money to buy the station and the tow truck. The place he supposedly robbed? It was unclear what he tried to take in the first place. The owner took off soon after that and refused to discuss it. Dropped the robbery after the only witness left.” She shrugged. “No one knows why Wyatt came back to town. He refuses to have anything to do with his family, Max included, and yet here he is…talking to his brother about you.” She shook her head, beaming at me as if the gossip had fed her soul. “Color me intrigued.”

  “I can assure you that I have no idea why they’d be talking about me. My car broke down, Wyatt found me and towed my car down the mountain. He suggested I get a room in Max’s motel and dropped me off here. End of story.”

  She grinned and cocked her head. “You’re a bundle of surprises, Carly Moore. I’m gonna like havin’ you around.”

  She better not get too used to my company. I planned to get the hell out of Drum as soon as my car was ready, even if I had to push it down the mountain.

  Chapter Four

  After Wyatt and Max had said their piece, Wyatt surprised the hell out of everyone by getting a beer and taking a seat at a table with some of the rough crowd. Bingham didn’t look too pleased to see Max’s brother, but as far as I could tell, neither of them said a word to each other.

  Bingham left me alone for the rest of the night, but he kept an eye on me—and about half the other men were watching me too. Wyatt was keeping an eye on me as well, although he was trying to be more subtle about it. He sat in Ruth’s section, so I never had to deal with him.

  The Titans won, which put everyone in a good mood, and the customers ordered several more rounds of drinks to celebrate. A good portion of the men left before eleven, with a few stragglers sticking around until Max shut the place down at midnight. Bingham had left with the first group. Wyatt had left soon after.

  When Max shooed the last men out—a couple of old guys—he turned to face me with a huge grin. “Damn, Carly. You not only worked your ass off, but
you won them boys over. How long you plannin’ on stayin’ again?”

  I couldn’t help wondering if he was asking because of his conversation with his brother. “I’ll be leavin’ as soon as my car is fixed and ready to go.”

  Given the fact that I’d earned nearly two hundred dollars in tips, I might actually be able to afford the repairs in the not-too-distant future.

  “If you change your mind,” Ruth said, “you’ve got a job. Max’s right. Most of those boys loved you, and they don’t usually take to newcomers.” She turned her attention to Max. “What was Wyatt doin’ here?”

  Max’s smile spread. “Just two brothers chattin’ it up.”

  “I ain’t never seen him in here since he came back to town, and he seemed mighty interested in Carly,” Ruth countered.

  “He asked me to give him Carly’s paycheck to make sure she didn’t stiff him with the tow bill and leave her car behind.”

  “He did what?” I demanded.

  “Don’t you worry,” Max said in a genial tone. “It’s your hard-earned money, not his. If he’s got a beef with you, then that’s between you two.”

  “He never once asked me for payment!” I said in outrage. “I would have been more than happy to pay for the tow and give him a deposit.”

  “That’s just my fool brother,” Max said as though that explained everything. He headed toward the back. “You girls go settle up with Tiny and Samson, then I’ll walk Carly over to her room.”

  “Not without my sheets,” Ruth called after him as we walked up to the serving window to the kitchen. Ruth’s boyfriend, Franklin, had shown up around the third quarter of the game, and I’d covered Ruth’s station so the two of them could sit at the bar for ten minutes.

  Tiny was scrubbing the grill while Samson—a small, older guy so frail he looked like he’d snap like a twig if you bumped into him just right—put the last remaining dirty dishes through the dishwasher.

  “You done good, girl,” Tiny said, his voice warm and accepting.

  “Thanks.” I couldn’t stop the broad smile spreading across my face. I’d left Rose and the others two weeks ago. It had been too long since I’d had a substantial interaction with anyone. I’d had no idea how much I missed this. Human contact. The feeling of a job well done. Acceptance. I only hoped I’d find it as readily once I reached Wilmington.