It had been nearly a week since the initial beating.
When those five men attacked me from behind, kicking the shit out of me, as they waited for May to arrive to give the order to hog tie me and toss me in the back of his cruiser.
At first, I’d thought the attack was retribution for the damage at the old mine, but later I realized I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d come to learn that people assume that we all share the same fears, and Davis’s greatest fear was to be the man down in the dirt writhing in pain from an unwarranted attack.
As far as I was concerned, pain had always been a poor teacher. Rage, on the other hand, rage had taught me plenty. Surprisingly, it had even taught me patience—to some degree.
The two days I’d spent in Everly’s care, rather than rushing back to exact my revenge should count as proof.
No, that initial beating wasn’t because of the damage I’d caused, it was Balo and May who had fit together the pieces that Davis was too slow to assemble. Gravedigger had prior claim to Balo, so I had no problem letting that be, but the others owed me a dance.
The barn waited somewhere in the dark expanse stretch of farmland ahead. It wasn’t unlike thousands of rotting shells filled with straw and the ghosts of harvest seasons long gone. Except now it was also something else. A hideout, a prison, and a torture chamber.
Not for the first time, I wonder if Mills was brought there. Shoved into the same cage where they held me, but long before the townspeople or the deputies knew what danger had invaded their peaceful hamlet.
Gearing up for the fight, they were expecting in the morning, Bronco’s intel assures me that the men I’m gunning for will be there. And Bull’s booked the cremator to hide any trace of their corpses.
It’ll be like they never existed.
I wasn’t riding toward them for justice. I’m not even sure it can be classified as revenge. All I know is that a good man is dead simply because he was in the way. Mills wasn’t perfect, the fact that he was open to the quarterly allowance from the Kings was proof of that, but I know that he never would have allowed anyone under his jurisdiction to be hurt or to live in fear like they were now.
Growing up in Thunder’s shadow, I was always jealous of the relationship he had with Dad. Even though Thunder always stood up for me and tried to get him to include me in their outings, it was better when Dad was simply ignoring me than when he wasn’t. Though it was years later, Mills, in his own way,filled the roll of a father figure; one that I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was still looking for.
Whatever it should be called, I just know that men like these have no right to draw breath.
The leather roll that Thunder handed me only holds two items: a small hand axe with a worn hickory handle, and a long, slender hunting knife with a grip that had molded to the shape of brother’s fist over years of use. The axe was practically an old friend, Thunder’s knife would do until I recovered mine.
Neither weapon was impressive nor needed to be. I had learned long ago that the tool didn’t matter, only the resolve behind it.
Leaning into a curve, I caught a flicker of light past the trees and figured it was coming from the barn I was looking for so I killed the headlights and slowed the ATV.
After Everly’s rescue, it should have occurred to someone to set up a warning system, but if there was one, I couldn’t see anything. Deciding that I was pushing my luck, I pulled up alongside a few trees that had sprouted close enough that they had started to weave together as they grew.
The only noise was now coming from the barn, and I took a moment, not so much to admire all the stars that were out in force tonight than to study the building, looking for a guard or a sniper, even a dog, but the men inside sounded almost jovial.
My smile was humorless as I started forward. The more fun they were having, the more distracted they would be, not having a fucking clue that they wouldn’t live to see the dawn.
Reaching into the leather roll, I slid the knife into my belt and kept the axe in my hand as I stepped forward, my feet sinking into yesterday’s snowfall which also helped to pad my steps.
Their words became clearer the closer I got, first it was the arrogance in their tone and the top forty music that annoyed me, this is too fucking easy, I thought. When the faint smell of tobacco and pot reached me, I became certain this is a trap.
Instead of stepping any closer to the door, I circle the building. From my previousvisithere I know there’s only the one door, with the wider barn doors being well chained together, but there are some cracks in the wood and at the back of the barn, I finally get a good enough angle to see where the men are sitting.
The light that I saw from a distance was coming from a haphazard fire pit and several lanterns. I shake my head, disgusted with myself.
This is the brain trust that got the jump on me?
Hey, let’s set up a fire in this rickety old barn. What’s the worst that could happen?
Inside, an old table is surrounded by folding chairs, a card game is underway with a pretty healthy stack of cash in the middle. While only four of the chairs are currently occupied, there are drinks in front of five of them, which instantly makes me tense up.
Looking around the best I can through the missing wedge of wood, I sense more than see movement inside and to my right, putting the fifth man close to the cage I was kept in. Wracking my brain, I try to figure out what he’s up to—has he seen my shadow through the planks somehow?
“Davis, it’s to you,” yells one of the men from the table.
“Give me a goddamn second,” he grumbles back, letting out a grunt. And that’s when it clicks, the asshole is taking a dump. Not something he’d be doing if they were laying a trap for me.
The largest man at the table is easily Thunder’s size, though comparably he looks more like bigfoot than my brother’s Mr.Clean appearance. Scratching his overgrown beard with the edge of the playing cards, he grunts, “They ain’t comin’.”
