Page 304 of Property of Whiskey

Then tires crunch outside.

Legend’s hand goes up, and the room changes instantly.

Twila takes the protected side of the interior wall beside the hall opening. Royal moves to the window. I take the opposite angle while Legend peers through a narrow crack between the boards.

A black SUV rolls to a stop in front of the house.

Clean. Ordinary plates. Nothing about it worth remembering.

The driver’s door opens.

Reverend Crowley steps out.

Well.

Ain’t that convenient.

I look to Legend and Royal. “Who alerted your father?”

Legend balks. “Don’t even go there.” The fact that the reverend adopted Legend and Royal as teens for the church to raise isn’t lost on anyone. But it’s a mighty sore subject.

Reverend wears a dark coat over a white shirt with no clerical collar. Same pleasant face from the fundraiser photograph, only older now, and he looks way too fucking calm for a man arriving at an abandoned house occupied by three armed bikers and one pissed-off deputy.

He looks directly at the building.

Then at our bikes.

Smiles.

Royal whispers, “I can shoot him from here.”

Twila answers just as quietly. “No.”

“Why did we bring the cop?”

I lean toward him.

Legend’s phone rings.

Everybody looks.

Unknown number.

He answers. “Yeah.”

Outside, Crowley raises his own phone to his ear.

“You boys are trespassing.”

Legend smiles without humor. “Call the cops.”

Twila covers her mouth.

Royal nearly laughs.

Crowley’s smile doesn’t move. “I don’t think Deputy Dix wants that complication.”

Twila’s amusement disappears.