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Ty rubs his neck, glares at Wells. “I was attacked. He attacked me.”
“Shut up, Ty,” Hassie snaps.
“Leave Wells the fuck alone,” I snarl.
“You want a raid, Weston?” Craddock’s jowls shake from his bluster as he looks at Warren. “Because that can be arranged.”
I tense. Fuck.
Warren draws himself up and stares down Craddock. “You shut down my bar—the town will riot. I don’t know if you or Mayor Hale want that kind of problem.”
“Think the problem belongs to your brother.” Craddock’s hand goes to the billy club on his hip as he gives River a pointed glance.
I feel it inside of me, the darkness, the anger. My fists twitch, fighting the urge to take a swing at Craddock and put him on the ground like he deserves.
“Fuck you,” River blasts. In the back pocket of his jeans, I spy one of April’s missing person posters.
“Shut up, Riv.” Hassie tugs on his arm and drags him toward her.
Craddock lifts his hands. “It’s settled if he leaves. Sound good, Weston?” he says remorsefully, as if he’s not the one creating the problem.
“That’s not right. They can’t do that.”
Delilah’s soft voice floats over our huddle. A small hand slips around my bicep.
I turn to her. “Darlin’, you okay?”
Craddock looks down at Delilah. “Who’s this?”
Get your eyes off her.
I don’t like it. His interest.
Suddenly I don’t want her here. In this town. In this bar. Around me. Anything we touch is a liability. And Delilah’s right in the middle.
The idea alone is enough to strangle me.
“No one.”
Delilah stiffens beside me. It’s an asshole thing to say, but I want Craddock’s attention off her. I check my rage before turning back to Craddock. “It’s done. Let’s move on, deputy.”
As if a countdown’s begun, the bells of the old church clang like thunder. A familiar, melancholy tune that has everyone lifting their eyes heavenward.
A murderous black storm cloud swirls over River’s features. “I’m going.”
He stomps to his motorcycle. The very last thing he should be on right now with his mindset.
Warren gives me a nod.
I turn to Delilah, not wanting to leave her, but needing to talk sense to River.
“Fuck. I have to go.”
Delilah exhales. “It’s okay. Go. Go to River.”
I take a step, turn, then clutch her hand. “Tomorrow night.” I shouldn’t say it, should keep her away from me, but I can’t.
She stares at me with big, beautiful brown eyes. “Yes,” she breathes.