It hadn’t been like that when Robert had been the head of the clan. No, Robert had been more like Jimmy in that way. Lashing out easily and often. Quinn was sure the townspeople liked Ian’s rule much better.
Once the sound of Jimmy’s car vanished into the distance, Ian leveled Quinn with a look.
“So, whatreallybrings you into town?”
“What, a guy can’t come see his uncle?” Quinn grinned and spread his hands. Then he got serious. “I got out of rehab two weeks ago. Didn’t want to go to Mom so I came here.” It was the truth, after all.
Ian’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, trying to read Quinn. “This the only way to go?”
Quinn could’ve made the “what, I’m not welcome here” joke that most people might’ve. Instead, he smirked darkly. “I’m not very popular in my pre-rehab circles right now.”
Ian pondered on that for a bit. Then he nodded slowly. “Alright.” He coughed into his fist and grimaced. “All I have to tell you is this. If you’re looking to take over the town once I’m gone, Jimmy’s going to put up a fight. I don’t know if it matters, but I don’t particularly care who takes over.”
Quinn thought quickly. “Well, after spending years in a pond much bigger than Spruce Creek, I’m sure I’d be capable of taking over. I just don’t have the crew and I’ve been gone for a decade, Uncle Ian.”
Ian hummed. “Just…don’t turn your back on Jimmy.”
Quinn wondered if Ian meant it as in “be careful around him” or “don’t turn your back on family” kind of thing and didn’t ask. For all he knew, it was both.
“So, anything I can do for you and Karen while I’m in town?” he asked instead.
Ian smiled at the mention of his wife. “Nothing comes to mind. I’m sure she’ll ask you to help her in the kitchen though. You used to like that.”
Yeah, Quinn had spent time here a lot as a kid. More often than not, he’d helped Aunt Karen with the cooking. Sometimes it was with his mom there and others not. Whenever his parents went somewhere together, this was where Quinn would stay. Not that his dad left the town much. He was too careful for his territory.
Quinn yawned. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I was going to stay and visit for longer, but I think I need to go check out the trailer and get some groceries, then just get some rest. I’ll come by tomorrow when Karen’s home.”
Ian got up too, and Quinn managed not to hover when he saw his uncle sway a little. He knew better than to draw attention to Ian’s weakness.
He did hug Ian though, because he’d genuinely missed him. Sure, Ian was a wannabe mob boss in a tiny Nevada town and tiny fish on the scale Quinn was used to dealing with. But he’d also been the more emotionally stable father figure in his youth, and Quinn missed having that sort of connection.
* * * *
Quinn ended up taking a detour to the main street to check things out. He started at the end where most of the quaint touristy shops were, and shook his head at how little things had changed in a decade. There were a couple of closed shops with boarded up windows, but there were also still the Wild West themed shopfronts that were kitschy as fuck.
Hell, even the bar with a few rooms for rent upstairs, the Saloon, was still up and running. The diner was still open, too. With his growling stomach, Quinn was tempted as hell to go there and grab early dinner. He just didn’t want the questions, because in a town with a thousand people everyone knew everyone, and by now the townsfolk would know Robert MacGregor’s son was back in town.
Instead of the diner, he headed to the tiny so-called grocery store and got a basketful of things that made healthy enough breakfasts and snacks. He could have most meals at the diner and he was sure Aunt Karen wouldn’t mind having him at the dinner table every now and then.
He kept his head down and got out of the shop and to the middle trailer park without being interrupted. He passed one dark SUV which obviously belonged to Uncle Ian’s crew, but he ignored it for the time being.
Almost opposite the road down to the trailers sat the old sheriff’s house. He remembered it well, small and rustic as it was. That was where Aaron, his first actual true crush had lived. And then Quinn’s dad had killed Aaron’s dad and…yeah. Shaking his head, he headed down the dirt road toward his rental.
It wasn’t much. Then again, he wasn’t willing to pay a lot and didn’t need much, so he didn’t care. There was a tiny bathroom, a kitchenette, a peeling and stained carpet, and a small bedroom at the end of the hall. The living room area was okay enough if you ignored the way the couch was slumped a bit at one end.
Quinn had done some time on the streets so anything more than a sleeping bag was a near luxury. The mattress at the rehab had been shit, too, so when later that night he found that the landlord had bought a new mattress sometime in the last few years, he felt like fucking royalty.
A prince with a gun under his pillow, but a prince nonetheless.
Chapter 2
Aaron Larsen woke to the sound of glass breaking. His heart raced as he rolled off the mattress onto the floor, wincing as pain shot through his knee and then through the lower right leg that wasn’t even there. Sharp stabbing pins and needles tortured the sole of the foot he didn’t have anymore.
He pushed himself off the floor, wobbling like a bowling pin before he made a grab for his crutches. He jammed the crutch pads under his arms, curled his fingers around the grips, and swung himself out of his childhood bedroom into the dark hallway.
Fucking stairs. The rubber tip of his right crutch slipped, and he lost his footing. His heart beat fast and his stomach flipped, but he managed to shift his weight back instead, landing on his ass on the top step instead of crashing headfirst down the steps.
“Jesus Christ, Aaron!” Uncle Will loomed into view at the bottom of the dark stairwell. He was wearing his uniform, and the dim light gleamed on his sheriff’s badge. “What the hell are you doing, kid?”
