Page 91 of Road to Absolution

My stomach rolled. I was a country boy who thought all this crazy was only in the movies. “So, this is a revenge thing?”

“Yes and no. I mean… yes, and then some.” He moved his ice to another spot of his swelling lips. “A bit, uh, complicated.”

Trying to have an ounce of compassion, I blew out a breath. “Art, I’m quickly gathering your story is dark as fuck. I’m sorry for that. I am, but I have a pregnant wife, on bedrest, who is in danger because of these ‘complications.’ So, speak or get the fuck away from me.”

Somewhat grinning, he peered into the car and told Tucker, “I’m getting Prez wanting him to be a Prospect now.” He eyed me again. “Damn, you’re stubborn.”

I started to say, “No—” but Tuck-the-Fuck eyed me from behind his steering wheel with a raised challenging brow, so I conceded, “Okay, yes. I’m stubborn, but I’m also not a normal Prospect. You guys have been ‘watching’ me since high school. Have I ever done one thing to not show what kind of person I am? Ever even looked at another girl with the slightest flirt?” Again, Tucker-the-Fucker challenged with a look. “Okay, but your wife is so hot even the Devil himself would flirt with her.”

Art shrugged to Tuck. “He has a point.”

Both Tuck and my eyes went wide. Umm, she’s your aunt, dude.

Thinking Diesel needed to come clean before regrettable things were said between family members, I stuttered, “Uh… Plus, I flirt with Vixen right in front of my wife. Doesn’t that speak volumes about my character? Trustworthiness—”

“It’s revenge and a personal thing,” Art spewed as if the faster the better. Rearranging his bloody cloth, he peered to the ground. “He was a kid while his dads had me. While they hurt—” He stared into trees, swallowing, over and over…

Tucker’s mouth was gaping. He had never heard these details either.

Fuuuuuck. My heart started to really feel bad for the schmuck.

Art eyed my hand. “Can I possibly have one of those?”

Needing a lighter second—or a million of them—I smirked, “Are you asking me to share with you, Art?”

It worked. He smiled. “Not your wife, asshole. Just a fucking smoke.”

I gave him one and offered a light.

In a needed moment of silence, I stood there with a man I wanted to hate, but suddenly couldn’t. We had both experienced crimes… A commendable way to bond? Fuck no, but it was ours. I was man enough to get that, and man enough to try and let certain past issues be just that, in the past, because we had true ghosts creeping up on us. And they wanted more than to haunt us.

Since Art was really struggling with telling me these details, I tried to help out by piecing this all together. “So, this son wants revenge because his ‘dads’ were killed?”

His head bobbled. “This is where it starts getting weirder.”

I huffed because I was pretty sure this story couldn’t possibly do that.

“This son, Seth, he’s, uh, dead.”

Blink. Blink. “Wait. So… I’m confused.”

“Yeah, me too. When I was, uh, taken recently, ‘Seth’ had me. Once Diesel found me, ‘Seth’ was killed.”

My skin started to heat up with chills. “Why are you sounding not convinced?”

His eyes scanned about, squinting in the sun. “He talked.”

“Errrr, okay.”

Art pulled on the back of his neck. “Seth wasn’t much of a talker. He was a doer.”

“Why do I have the chills right now?”

“Because what he did was the vilest—” His eyes closed as he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“I get it.” I thought for a minute… “You’re truly not convinced he’s dead, are you?”

Quietly, he said, “No.” The hand holding a cigarette rubbed his stomach. “Ain’t settling here.”