It took me too fecking long to get my business tied up in New York. Nearly a week after I’d last seen Hunter, Corbin and I were in a car. In a parade behind us on the highway were Tadgh and Mickey McCorkell, and behind them were a few more carloads of the fellas. All told, I was bringing twelve men with me to New Gothenburg, not counting myself.
“You’re only dragging us to this rinky-dink, run-down fucking town to bang your boyfriend,” Corbin grumbled. His normally smoothed-down hair was ruffled from the window being cracked.
“Don’t be a cunt.”
“Well, ya are.”
“Aye, so what?” I asked.
Corbin sighed. “So, the boys can’t know that’s what we’re doing. You’ll be a laughingstock.”
“It’s none of their fecking business what I’m up to, is it? They do what I tell them and they’re damned grateful for the opportunity.”
“Are they?”
“Aye, they are.” I tried to glare at him, but ahead of me an eighteen-wheeler drifted into the passing lane right as I was about to signal and go around him, and that was enough to have me paying more attention to the road than his bullshite.
“What are ya planning to do there, sir?” His snark had reached new levels, but I chose to be dignified and not draw attention to it.
“I’m going to get us set up to be useful and then go find my boy.”
“Just like that?” He snapped his fingers. Ahead of me the big truck finally made its decision on where it wanted to be—the driver must be fucking high as a kite on speed—and chose half of both lanes. I groaned and would have killed for more lanes, but I was stuck waiting for him to either crash and take us with him or pick one. Finally he moved squarely into the passing lane, and I pushed down the shifter on my Shelby GT, moved the stick to high gear, and shot straight ahead. Corbin grunted at the acceleration but refrained from telling me how to drive for once.
“Maybe not just like that, no, but that’s what I need to do. He was upset when I last saw him.”
“He was the only one upset?” Corbin wheedled dryly. When I shot him another look, he had his phone out, likely texting to his own sweetheart back home. At least I’d made him feel nostalgic.
“How does she handle ya being gone so long?”
“Toys,” he said offhand, and I laughed. “How do ya think he handled ya being gone for a week?”
He was searching for something that would strike a blow because he wasn’t happy about being dislodged from his nice apartment parked in the middle of everything interesting in New York City, and he’d finally managed to find it. I sat there and tried not to seethe, but it was a near miss.
“Fuck ya.”
“He’s not doing anything, sir, and ya know it,” Corbin said after a long stretch of highway had disappeared behind us. He sounded apologetic, and that was as good as saying sorry.
“Course he isn’t.”
That conversational topic effectively killed my desire to speak, and though Corbin attempted several times to resurrect a friendly atmosphere, I couldn’t be bothered with it. I drove fast, my intent to get to New Gothenburg before sunset only stymied by the state patrolmen I saw every now and then. Half the cars were scarecrows, but there was always a chance they were manned. I cursed and slowed down every time I saw one, and Corbin finally laughed about the sixth time that happened.
“Eager, are we?”
“Piss off.” I grinned at him.
“Ya have a plan, then?”
“Yeah. We’re going to talk to King and see what’s going on with that airport situation.”
“I meant—”
“King’s his da. So.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s good.” Corbin turned toward me, and I felt much more chipper after that. I didn’t tell him exactly what happened between Hunter and myself because that wasn’t his business, but I let him tell me about how to talk around someone who’s upset and listened harder than I’d like to admit to his advice. By the time we passed the Welcome to New Gothenburg sign, though, the sun was close to setting, and I was nervous.
“What if I find him and he’s not interested?”
“Is this really my life?” Corbin seemed to be asking his question to God, with his eyes rolled toward the roof. I growled at him, and he laughed.
