Asher was in the living room with the door open between the house and the bar. Dylan was in the backof the house. Gunner was in the bar. They were trying to cover all of the points of entrance and exit when Asher’s phone signaled a text. He was on his feet within seconds of reading it.
“Phil Eldredge just texted us. The Brandts are heading southbound on I-27 at this moment. It’s going to happen tonight. We all know our places, right?”
“Right,” they echoed.
“And we’re ready to end this,” Asher said.
“Hell, yes,” they echoed again.
Asher’s adrenaline was pumping. He kept picturing that god-awful pool of their dad’s blood that had soaked into the floor behind the bar, and he was ready for a takedown.
“We’re looking at fifteen or twenty minutes until they show. Gunner gives us the signal as to which way they’re coming. We’ll be in place before they get out of the car, and then they have to break in. Just stay calm and trust each other. There’s three of us, and two of them.”
“It’s all good, Ash. We’ve got your back,” Dylan said.
At that point, the TV was turned off, and they resumed their positions to wait for Gunner’s warning.
* * *
Everett was speeding through the night, his gaze fixed on the highway before him bathed in headlights coming and going. Freddie was quiet, which was worrisome, and Everett consoled himself by the thought that Freddie still wasn’t a hundred percent from the flu they’d both suffered.
For the past few days, he’d been going through what happened before. The fact that the bar was closed and there was no one in the building to deal with made all the difference.
But…since it was closed, parking in the front parking lot would only bring attention to their presence. He knewthere was a private drive that led around to the back, and his plan was to get out of sight of the highway, and they’d have the whole place to themselves for hours.
When they reached the intersection of Highway 86 and I-27, he took eastbound 86 and headed to Crossroads.
“It’s not long now,” Everett said. “Another ten or fifteen minutes and we’re in business, right, Freddie?”
“You’re not gonna shoot anyone this time, are you?” Freddie asked.
Everett frowned. “No shooting needed because there’s no one there. It’s empty, Freddie, okay?”
Freddie shrugged. “You said you weren’t gonna shoot anyone before, and you tried to kill a man.”
“And if you had done what I asked you to do, that wouldn’t have happened, right?” Everett said.
Freddie frowned. “You never said, don’t talk. You didn’t say that, Everett. You never said, ‘Freddie don’t talk.’”
“Fine. Fine. Just let it go, damn it. You’re right. I never said don’t talk. I never said be quiet. And we’re almost there, so calm down, damn it. I need to concentrate.”
Satisfied that he’d made his point, Freddie had nothing left to say, and all too soon they were driving past a quick stop, then past the Yellow Rose, past the big gas station, and into the parking lot at the bar.
Everett braked just long enough to get his eye on the drive leading to the back of the bar, then turned off the headlights, and using the light from the streetlights, slowly drove behind the bar.
* * *
Gunner saw the car slowing down.
“They’re here…and they’re heading to the back,” he said, then took off running.
Dylan was in the utility room, waiting for them to come in through the back door.
Gunner and Asher were crouched down in the kitchen, hidden by walls and furniture. Waiting.
* * *
Everett opened the trunk, handed the shovel to Freddie, then took his flashlight and the pry bar, and headed up the porch steps, pausing at the door long enough to jimmy the lock, then slip inside.
