“Work,” I repeat. “What kind of work?”
They both smirk.
“We’re not in the business of details.” He shrugs. “We just know your brother’s a thief.”
I shake my head. “You’ve got the wrong guy. Knox wouldn’t do that. He hates people like you.”
The big one snorts. “‘People like us’. Yeah, we heard that before. Thing is, your brother’s not as perfect as he makes out. Took things from other people, took our money. Which makes him either a dumbass, or someone who thinks he’s smarter than us.”
“Neither,” I say. “You’re lying about him.”
“You’re a good sister,” the bearded one says. “But we got the right person. Knox Woodworth. And we know all about you, too.”
“Lucky me.”
He stands, cracks his neck. “You been runnin' with the wrong crowd, Sawyer. Stetsons are bad news. Everyone knows it. But after tonight, maybe you see what it’s like to be on the winning team.”
My mind races. Why me? Why would Knox have anything to do with these people? What have they done to him? My stomach twists, a knot of panic and guilt, but I grit my teeth.
“Not even if you paid me,” I spit.
He barks out a real laugh. “This one’s feisty. I like that.”
Feisty? That’s what he calls it? I swallow hard, heart hammering. This isn’t a game. This is my life. I need a plan. I need a way out.
“You got a thing for the Stetsons? Which one are you fuckin’? The pretty boy, or the wild one?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. They don’t deserve my answer.
Big guy tilts his head. “Bet it’s the wild one,” he says. “Rogue. He likes the crazy ones.”
I want to throw something at them, but I don’t say a word. They don’t suspect I’m with Trouble, and I have a feeling that once he knows what they’ve done, he isn’t going to take it easy on them.
“We’ll be back to check on you later. Don’t go having too much fun,” one says before they make their way out.
The lights snap off, and I’m alone in the barn. I can see through the cracks in the planks—a faint slit of blue sky. My wrists hurt, my mouth is dry, but I’m alive.
What has Knox been doing to get us into this mess? Was it worth it? Did he know this could happen?
I wonder if the Stetsons are looking for me. If Trouble is looking for me.
thirty-two
Trouble
“Uncle T, when do I get my nickname?”
I snort, shaking a scoop of grain into the trough. The horses nicker, shoving their muzzles in before it even settles. “Not till you ride.”
He throws his arms up. “But y’all won’t let me ride yet!”
“’Cause you’re not old enough.”
He narrows his eyes at me like he’s tryin’ to start a staring contest. “What if I get two nicknames? One for now, and one for later.”
I tilt my head, brushing horse hair off my shirt. “Alright, hotshot, what nickname you want for now?”
He puffs out his chest. “I’m thinkin’ you can call me… Batman. Or maybe Iron Man.”
