It’s cold out here, but the chill I feel in my bones has nothing to do with the temperature outside, and everything to do with the people inside that barn.
As we get closer, we can hear background music playing, but the only voice we can pick up is Smitty’s. It’s not loud enough to make outwhat he’s saying though, so it’s hard to gauge what the atmosphere is like inside.
Glancing around the yard, I notice the fire drum alight, hot embers floating up as the wood inside burns, yet no one stands around it. There are no lights coming from the few tiny houses that line the yard, and the only lights coming from the direction of the bungalows are the faint ones lining the path.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I whisper, and Ringo’s hand squeezes mine, dragging my attention to him.
“Keep your hand near your gun, but don’t make it obvious you’re carrying if you can. Is that knife still in your boot?” he asks, and I nod. “Good. That’s your backup.”
“Hopefully, I won’t need it,” I whisper, and his strained smile isn’t the least bit reassuring.
“First thing you do when we go in is track my team. Make sure you know exactly where JD, Murf, Vender, Mex and Jols are. They will move into place to get close to you without me asking, and if shit goes bad in there, you do what they say to get you safe. Got it?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “You’re so bossy.”
He smirks back. “You fucking love it.”
The next thing I know, his lips are pressed to mine in a very quick, yet searing kiss, helping somewhat to ease my nerves and reminding me that I’m not alone.
I have him.
I have the others.
We will be okay.
When Ringo reaches for the small side door, I take in a deep breath, preparing myself to see my mother and Banes. My grandfather.
This is it…
Swinging the door open, Ringo steps inside, tugging me in behind him, our hands still locked together. With my free hand, I keep it just behind my back, ready to reach for my gun if I need it.
“Ahhh, finally,” Smitty sing-songs, and as Ringo steps aside showing me the space, I forget how to breathe.
There, sitting casually like they are having Sunday sippers at a table with Smitty and Spud, are Banes, my mother, and my sister, Maggie.
Shit.
SHIT.
My heart lurches at the sight of seeing them again. Especially sitting so casually on Southern Sadists soil. I kinda hoped they’d be strung up like pigs.
“Breathe, Angel,” Ringo murmurs under his breath, and I give his hand a slight squeeze as I take in more air, focusing on my breathing, and not looking scared.
Last time I saw them, I was living in a world where my daughter was dead. I was ruled by my grief. My heartache. If I were still living in that world, I’m quite certain I would have pulled the gun out and shot all three of them by now.
But that’s not my reality anymore. I still want them gone, but the raging violence I felt before isn’t there.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ringo snaps, moving us deeper inside, all eyes on us.
Shit. What was it I was meant to do when we stepped inside?
Oh, that’s right, find the others. See where they are in the room.
Quickly, I scan the space, finding Jols just to my left with JD close by. Murf is with Lewy over to the right, and Vender and Mex are across the room, behind Smitty.
That’s when I see two more people here that don’t look like they belong.
The first is Blake Moore. The guy Smitty had sent into the Rebels undercover. We haven’t heard from him in ages, and had wondered if he was dead, but maybe he’s just been focused on keeping the ruse alive. Or maybe he’s switched sides.
