by Ivy Black
“Yeah, we’re good,” Prophet replies.
Singer spits a mouthful of tobacco juice in the dirt as his feet, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Prophet, who offers him a smile that looks so wooden, it wouldn’t convince a blind person, let alone somebody as sharp as Singer.
“Thought you gave that shit up, Sheriff?” Prophet says.
He chuckles. “I think dealin’ with you boys has made it a hard habit to break. Just don’t tell Kasey. She’ll have my ass.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” Prophet says.
The air is thick with tension and crackling with the weight of everything not being said right now. This isn’t just a friendly social call. Obviously. Things between us and the sheriff have been better, but we’re probably not on his Christmas card list. There’s a reason for this visit, and I, for one, would like to know what it is.
“So, what can we do for you, Sheriff?” Prophet asks as if reading my mind.
Singer works the tobacco in his mouth as he looks at us again, maybe trying to decide whether or not he’s going to get a straight answer out of any of us. He should know better than that by now.”
“Heard a rumor about y’all runnin’ around in town,” Singer says.
Doc scoffs. “And when did you start listenin’ to rumors, Sheriff?”
He shrugs his wide shoulders. “Normally, I don’t. This one though seemed like somethin’ I needed to check on for myself.”
“All right,” Prophet says. “What’s the rumor?”
Singer spits another mouthful of tobacco juice in the dirt. “Heard there was lots of shootin’ out here the other day.”
Prophet shrugs. “You know we all like to go out back of the compound and do some target shootin’. Probably all it was.”
“Uh-huh,” Singer replies, looking thoroughly unconvinced.
“That same day, there was also an unidentified Mexican man, mid-twenties, dumped at the emergency room doors of St. Mary’s by two also unidentified Mexican men, with a single gunshot wound to the neck. Boy bled out on the pavement right there. Probably just a coincidence though, huh?”
“Seems like it,” Prophet replies.
That’s about the only spot of good news in this shitstorm raining down on us from all sides right now. I’m glad the fucker is dead. But I keep my thoughts to myself since I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t go over to well right now.
“I got a theory,” Singer says. “Want to hear it?”
“Would it stop you if I said no?” Prophet asks.
A wry smirk flickers across Singer’s lips. “Probably not. So, here goes. My theory is that these unidentified Mexicans are tied up with the cartel and judgin’ by those bullet holes in the walls of your compound, they shot your place up. You boys returned fire—self-defense, of course—hit the man in the neck. They drove off and dumped him at the hospital.”
“That’s quite a theory, Sheriff,” Doc says.
“Uh-huh. All it is since nobody’s talkin’ right now.”
“Sure wish we could help you. But things around here have been pretty quiet lately,” Prophet says.
Singer looks closely at each one of us, his steely eyes looking for a tell, something that lets him know that he’s spot on about what went down out here the other day. But nobody so much as bats an eye in his direction. He finally nods and frowns, then spits another wad of juice in the dirt at his feet.
“Look, fellas, I’ll never be able to express my gratitude to y’all for savin’ Kasey from those assholes. I’ll never be able to repay that debt I owe. But I can’t have a war breaking out in town. We can’t put the innocent people here at risk. So, if somethin’s goin’ down, y’all need to tell me so I can take appropriate action.”
“And what would that appropriate action be, Sheriff?” Doc asks.
He shrugs. “I’d likely have to call in the feds. They’re the ones who deal with the cartels. As you so capably demonstrated, we’re not equipped for that shit, boys. We’re a small town and can’t afford to have them big city problems here.”
Prophet cuts a glance at all of us, and in his eyes, I can see him telling us to keep our cool, that he’s got a plan, and that he’s on it. All we need to do is go along with him. Not that any one of us would actually break ranks. That’s not something he’d even have to worry about. Having the feds snooping around here would be bad for all of us because they would inevitably come knocking on our door and given some of the shit we’re mixed up in, we can’t have that.
“Even if that were the case, and your theory is correct—not that I’m saying it is,” Prophet says, “you can trust that we’d never let anything happen to Blue Rock, Sheriff. This is our home, and we’d die to defend it.”
“I know that, Prophet. I know y’all love this town as much as I do. And I know what you have, and would, sacrifice to protect it. But y’all have to know by now those cartel fuckers don’t play by the normal rules. They’ll shoot up the town just for the fun of it. And that can’t happen.”
Prophet nods. “Understood, Sheriff. And I get it. We all get it. Just trust me when I say you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He scoffs. “From where I’m sittin’, I’ve got a whole shitload to worry about.”
“Not from us. I give you my word.”
Singer takes a moment to look at each of us in turn, one more time. Giving us one more opportunity to come clean about what’s happening. Right now, he knows he has nothing to go to the feds with. No proof of cartel activity, and no proof that we’re involved with them in any way. I can see he’s worried, though. As are we all. Prophet’s right… this is our home, and we’d die to protect it.
We’ve all got a stake in this. Singer knows and understands this. He knows a lot of the guys have families here. Knows that most of us have somebody we care about living in town, and that they, in turn, have those they care about as well. We’re all intricately connected to this town. Tied and tethered to it in a hundred different ways. And he knows that we aren’t about to let anything happen to any one of those people who bind us to it or to the town itself.
“Just don’t go bitin’ off more than you can chew here, fellas. And don’t go doin’ anything stupid that’s going to hurt this town or the people living here,” Singer says. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Never do, Sheriff.”
“Uh-huh.”
Singer gets back into his truck and gives us all another pointed look before he puts it into gear and drives off. Prophet and Doc walk back to the clubhouse without a word to us, but Cosmo looks at me.
“Keep your head on a swivel, kid. Let me know what you decide.”
I nod as he turns and heads for the clubhouse himself. This thing feels like it’s starting to spiral out of control, and I know that if I say yes, I could help. Taking Ortega off the board isn’t going to stop things entirely, but it might help limit the damage the incoming shitstorm is going to cause. And if I don’t, I’ll be inadvertently helping that damage spread wider and the bodies to pile up.
“Yeah, no pressure at all.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashley
I wait at the gates to the zoo with Cole standing in front of me, my hands on his shoulders. My heart is beating a mile a minute and my stomach is cramping with nerves. Max and I have seen a lot of each other over the past couple of weeks, and I feel like something special is really building between us.
I honestly had no expectations of what was happening when we first started seeing each other. It’s been difficult for me because I’ve always been somebody who reads into things. Tries to interpret every word said or everything somebody else does to discern the deeper meaning. I’ve made reading between the lines an art form. And not always in the best way.
But with Max, I’ve tried to take a step back from that. I’ve tried to put no pressure on anything and just let things happen as they would. It’s been difficult changing my most basic nature, but I’ve been trying to not read into anything he
says or does and just take him at face value.
It’s been made somewhat easier by the fact that Max really is a “what you see is what you get” sort of person. He doesn’t play games, doesn’t obscure the truth of things, and says what he means. And when he would rather not talk about something, he will tell me straight away. He’ll eventually come around to talking about it, but I’m learning that I don’t need to push him and to let him open up to me in his own time. That sort of transparency has been… refreshing.
More than that, he treats me like a princess. Yeah, I know, this is the whole courtship phase of any burgeoning relationship—when everything is perfect. But after my experience with Ryan, I’m jaded enough that I don’t see the world through rose-colored glasses. I’m definitely not a cynic, I just have a healthy view of the world around me and the people in it.
I don’t see sunshine and rainbows everywhere. I simply see reality as it is. And to this point, what I’ve seen in Max is nothing short of wonderful. He treats me better than Ryan ever did… better than any guy I’ve ever gone out with, in fact. He is solicitous, caring, compassionate. He takes an active interest in me and my life and wants to know all the details of everything.
Max never makes me feel like I need to hide anything away. That there are certain things I shouldn’t talk about because it makes him uncomfortable or upsets him like Ryan did. He genuinely seems to want to know everything that passes through my mind, no matter how silly or trivial.
Basically, being with Max has been the exact opposite of my experience with Ryan. Max has shown me in a thousand different ways how much he values me. He seems to cherish me in ways I’ve never felt before. He seems to sincerely adore me in every way. And I have to admit that I adore him as well.
It’s obviously still far too early to predict where this is going with him. I’m doing my best to avoid getting my hopes up. Too far, anyway. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some small piece of me looking forward to perhaps taking this thing between us to another level. Ryan didn’t entirely kill the hopeless romantic in me. She’s wounded and hurting, but she’s not dead. And even if he doesn’t realize it, Max is breathing new life into her.
Which is why I thought today was the perfect time for him to meet Cole. Max was hesitant at first when I raised the subject. But he’s slowly warmed to the idea. I know he still harbors those scars deep within him. Honestly, I don’t think those are ever going to fully heal. My personal opinion is that he’s simply going to have to find a way to learn to live with it and deal with the pain that still so obviously affects him.
And my feeling is that he needs to spend more time around kids to prove to himself that he isn’t going to hurt them. Deep down, I think that’s what his issue truly is. The fact that he inadvertently killed two children, as horrible as it is, wasn’t his fault. But he still bears the burden of it and I think on a subconscious level, he feels like he’s going to hurt any child he comes across.
It’s irrational, of course. But oftentimes when we live through a traumatic event, it inspires fears that others might think are unreasonable but seem perfectly logical to us. In other words, it really only needs to make sense to him. And in his mind, it makes perfect sense to fear kids because of what he went through.
So, my goal here is to help him get used to being around kids and show him that he can have positive interactions with them. I want to show him that he can enjoy being around kids and that he’s not the portent of doom for children that he seems to think he is. I want him not just to see but believe that he’s not the monster he thinks he is. And I think being around Cole can help him with that.
Of course, there’s also a selfish motivation for this meeting as well. If things with Max continue on the trajectory they seem to be on, he’s going to have to get used to being around kids, anyway. I told him the first night we went out that Cole is the center of my universe and that without my son, there is no relationship with me.
So, this is kind of a rubber meeting the road moment. I know it will probably take a little time before he’s fully comfortable being around Cole, these sorts of issues can take a minute to resolve themselves. And I’m willing to be patient and work with him. But this will tell me whether or not he’s willing to put in the work on himself he needs to do to resolve his issues. It will go a long way to telling me if he wants to be with me, and actually thinks I’m worth the effort.
Max emerges from a crowd of people and I let out a small breath I didn’t know I was holding. He’s here. First hurdle cleared. He walks over to us and I can see how stiff and tentative he is. Max leans forward and gives me a peck on the cheek. He looks down at Cole, who’s looking back up at him with wide eyes. Max clears his throat and squats down in front of my son, a warm, but wavering smile on his face.
“You must be Cole,” he says.
Cole darts behind my legs, burying his face in the back of my knees. Reaching down, I take Cole’s hand and guide him back out in front of me.
“Cole, honey, it’s okay,” I say. “Max is mommy’s friend.”
“Your mom’s told me a lot about you, big man. You sound like a real cool kid.”
Cole’s smile is tenuous, but at least there’s one there, which I find encouraging. Apparently, Max does, too, as his smile seems to grow more certain.
“You ready to go see some monkeys?” Max asks.
Cole nods eagerly. “And ele-funs,” he says.
Max laughs as he looks up at me. “Personally, I like that pronunciation a lot better. Let’s go see some ele-funs.”
We share a laugh as he stands up and ruffles Cole’s hair. I put Cole into the small buggy that’s shaped like a panda and strap him in. Pushing the buggy along, we meld into the flow of traffic heading for the gates of the zoo. I’m sure some people will think he’s too old for the buggy, but I know my son and he’ll be done walking a few hours from now. The buggy saves us all a lot of time and headache because as any mother will tell you, a tired kid knows how to throw a tantrum.
Max is starting to loosen up already, but he hasn’t fully turned the corner just yet. I can still see the apprehension in his face and the tightness in his shoulders. I watch Max’s eyes and see him scanning the crowd, his gaze cutting left and then right, suspicion etching his features.
“You all right?” I ask.
He tears his gaze away from the crowd and looks at me, a sheepish expression on his face as if I’ve caught him doing something horribly embarrassing.
“Yeah. Sorry. It’s an unconscious thing,” he says.
“What is?”
“Looking for threats in a crowd of people. They really drilled it into us in the Corps since it was literally a matter of life and death.”
I laugh ruefully. “Well, that’s a cheery thought. I doubt we have to worry about suicide bombers in the zoo, though.”
“Here’s hoping.”
As he pays for the tickets, though, it’s me who gets a chill running down my spine. I feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as a wave of goosebumps washes over me. I turn and look out at the crowd, certain that somebody’s watching me. But there are simply too many people milling about, and I don’t see any faces I recognize.
“You okay?” Max asks.
I give him a gentle smile. “Yeah, I guess your paranoia’s rubbing off on me.”
“It happens.”
Max flashes me the tickets and I push the buggy along as Cole squeals with delight. We enter the park and are instantly inundated by a myriad of sights and sounds. It seems like a million people are in the park, the buzz of conversation and the high-pitched squeal of children laughing and playing so loud, it’s almost deafening. But it’s the sound of people enjoying themselves and having fun.
Ordinarily, it would buoy my spirits and I’d be laughing along with them straight away. But that feeling of being watched persists. It’s oppressive and heavy, and it’s sapping the enjoyment out of a bright, sunny, warm, and otherwise beautiful day. I turn again, posi
tive I’m going to see somebody right behind me, but there’s nobody there. And yet, I still somehow feel creeped out.
“What’s wrong?” Max asks.
“Nothing. I don’t know. It just feels like somebody’s watching me.”
He smirks at me. “Wow. I guess my paranoia really is rubbing off on you.”
My laugh is forced and weak, so Max grabs hold of my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I look into his eyes and see the concern in them.
“I know it’ll sound absolutely crazy, but I can’t get it out of my head that it’s Ryan. That he’s found us somehow and is watching me.”
A sympathetic look gleams in his eyes as he looks at me. “It doesn’t sound crazy. After hearing what you went through, I’d be surprised if you didn’t jump at shadows or have some lingering trauma from all of it. But he’s a thousand miles away, and like you said, he’s got no way of knowing where you are. It’s just nerves. I mean, things between us are moving kind of quick, and I’m sure it’s stirring up all of that shit inside of you. I think it’s probably natural to be freaking out a bit.”
“Wow. Now, who’s sounding like the shrink?”
He shrugs. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me, too.”
“I hope not. I don’t think I could stand being analyzed and dissected a hundred different ways,” I say with a laugh.
“Welcome to my world,” he replies with a goofy grin on his face. “More than likely, it’s probably some guy who thinks you’re hot and can’t tear his eyes off you. I mean, I can totally relate.”
I laugh and slap him playfully on the shoulder. “Stop.”
He shrugs. “It’s true, though.”
“Spoken like a man who’s hoping to get lucky later.”
“This is one of those situations where both things can be true.”
I laugh and take his hand, raising it to my lips, and place a gentle kiss on it. He gives me a smile.
“Play your cards right and we’ll see how you do with the latter,” I purr.
