“You alive in there, boy?” Terry’s distorted voice called to him as if he was speaking to Big Country while they were both submerged in water.
Big Country opened his eyes and the world had a glassy sheen to it. Every time he consumed Firewater, he knew he exposed himself to the danger of the phantom flame that danced just on the edge of his vision, disappearing whenever he tried to focus on it. He shook his head to clear his mind and the flame went away, only to flicker back to life.
“Be careful, boy, part of your soul walks a different plain now. Don’t let it drift too far…or you’ll lose it,” Terry warned.
Big Country nodded, as everything around him moved slower.
Looking to the left, then to the right of him, he saw four of his challengers either on their knees or writhing on the floor. The fifth—one of Carver’s Marine buddies—was on the floor, not moving at all.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, Big Country rolled his neck. “Okay, boys,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “Let’s find a resolution to tonight’s frustrations.”
Striding to the front door, he opened it and the other four men stumbled through. He looked back and saw Mama and Lynx grin and salute one another with amber-filled shot glasses before knocking them back. Big Country frowned, turned away, and shoved into the night where vehicles were being rearranged in a circle, headlights turned toward the center where the contestants would fight.
Whatever unease Big Country felt in witnessing the exchange between Mama and Lynx disappeared the minute the ex-DEA agent’s fist connected with his gut. Still half in the world of quiet and cold, he felt no pain, only the satisfaction that arose when he clenched the other man’s skull and head-butted him into unconsciousness.
Big Country roared, challenging the elusive flame dancing in the distance, as well as his remaining opponents. The men came at him all at once. He dug in, enjoying the brutality of combat, feeling refreshed by it.
As he fought, he was ever present of that elusive flame flickering around in his mind, taunting him, drawing closer and cutting off every means of escape as he ducked and dodged his opponents. Then the flame exploded, consumed him, taking away the joy of battle, taking away everything except the old primal rage that burned so pure its only purpose was destruction, its only belief the sanctity of pain.
He didn’t hear the other men’s screams, didn’t hear the sound of bones breaking, didn’t taste the blood from seeping wounds. He fought well after his original challengers had fallen, working his way through every man that came within striking distance, making the world bleed copiously until Terry lifted a gun, pointed it at him, and shot.
He charged the man who had been like a father to him as the flame released its hold and slipped out of existence.
The world quieted. Cold wrapped around him, continued to numb him as vibrant green eyes twinkling with sin moved closer. He couldn’t move, couldn’t escape…then the scent of cinnamon and cedar overwhelmed his senses, pushing the memory away and surrounded him as he crumpled to the ground as the world went dark.
Then he was gone.
Chapter 2
Unlike the anticipation that had filled Lou’s SUV on the ride up to Mama’s House, the atmosphere going down was tense.
Tavi hadn’t spoken or looked at Stormy since slamming the door and accusing her of doing too much, of treating her like a child. Stormy pursed her lips, struggling to hold on to her temper.Like slamming a damn door and giving me the silent treatment is the pinnacle of maturity.Tavi was twenty-three and Stormy had no problem respecting her womanhood, but if her niece didn’t have the good sense to know when her life was in jeopardy, Stormy had no problem snatching Tavi up, funky attitude or not.
Looking behind her to check on Reign, seated behind Lou on the driver’s side, Stormy saw her cousin was still slumped against the door, the left side of her face plastered against the window.
“Reign baby, you okay?” Stormy asked.
Reign’s eyes remained closed as she nodded, moaned, then whimpered.
“We’re gonna have to pull over, Lou,” Stormy said.
“All I got is trees here, Stormy, trees and unpaved road. Where the fuck am I supposed to pull over?” Lou snapped, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she focused on getting them through the pitch-black forest road in one piece.
“Reign!” Lou called out, quickly looking at Reign through the rearview mirror. “If you throw up in my car, I’ll shoot you in the foot and make it look like an accident. You know I’ve gotten away with that shit before so don’t try me.”
Reign whimpered, squeezing her eyes tighter. “Don’t you dare threaten me when I’m sick, LouisaBadGardener.”
“Oh Lord…” Stormy fought to hold back her smile.
“This crazy heffa…” Lou muttered.
The night wasofficiallya wrap when a thirty-eight-year-old woman regressed to using a name she’d coined in fourth grade to denigrate Lou, aka Louisa Gardener. The name had only ever been an insult to Reign because what normal kid cared if someone was abad gardeneror not.
Placing her hand over her mouth, Reign dry-heaved.
“Reign. Check it out. You fuck up my ride, put money on yourlifethat—”
“Lou, you didn’t even bring a gun,” Stormy said.
