Burn in Hail

by Lani Lynn Vale

  That’s about where I was at, too.

  “Every time she sins, he cuts her hair.”

  “Going into someone’s house like that when they’re sleeping is illegal,” Parker said, zero emotion in his tone.

  I laughed then.

  “The cops in this town leave a lot to be desired,” I pointed out. “They got rid of some shitty ones, but…”

  “But the whole fucking force was shit,” Evander added, filling in the words I’d left unsaid. “They fired a lot, but kept on others that were neutral because of their supposedly good work ethic. Only good one that I know I can count on is a woman, and we know how women in that profession are treated. She’s eaten alive up there, and sometimes I feel like the only reason she’s still there is because of her sister’s kids that she supports.”

  I agreed with the other big man.

  “I can remember at least ten times that her hair was hacked off like that,” I started pacing again. “And to top it off, she let it slip that it wasn’t the only thing that he used to do to her.”

  Growls came from the table behind me.

  When I turned, each man’s face was blank, even the new guys.

  “I think maybe you should take the day off.” Travis stood and started collecting his papers. “We’ll finish this shit tomorrow. I have a brother-in-law that I guess I could speak to…but I’m not sure what I’d tell him at this point.”

  Travis speaking to his brother-in-law was big. They hadn’t had a relationship in a very long time, but Travis’ woman, Hannah, had brought them together again. She’d helped them mend fences, but there was still tension there, and probably always would be.

  Wolf was an agent of some kind, one I’d never cared to pay attention to, but I knew that he probably couldn’t do anything about this. Travis was right. Without proof that she was hurt, there was nothing on our end that we could do until he did.

  We knew how the law worked, and sometimes it was a right bitch.

  I’d never had a problem with the police, and never would.

  However, I saw the gaps in the system, and I really didn’t want this to have to get worse before something else would be done.

  Which meant I was talking to the town’s preacher. I was going to tell him what he was to do from now on, and I’d make sure he never touched his daughter again.

  Not if he didn’t want his ass kicked afterwards, anyway. Fuck going back to jail. If that was what I had to do, then I’d do it.

  It’d be worth it. That I knew for sure.

  “Fine.” I walked toward the door. “But I’m going to have a few words with our preacher. Maybe one of you could accompany me?”

  Rafe stood and walked toward me.

  “I’ll go,” he said. “I’d had some stuff I needed to do at the church anyway.”

  My brows lifted at that, but I wasn’t opposed to him coming.

  If the man wanted to hear what was about to go down, who was I to say anything to the contrary?

  Though, I had a feeling he was going there not as a favor to me, but as a favor to someone else.

  Now only to find out who.

  ***

  I arrived at the church in greasy pants, a dingy gray t-shirt that had some stains on it from hundreds of uses, and dirty boots that still had mud on them from the day before.

  I didn’t stop to clean myself off, though. Knowing instinctively that it would antagonize the man that hated me with a passion.

  My first stop was his office, which was empty but for a receptionist.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, smiling brightly at not me, but at Rafe who’d tailed behind me.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Yes, Rafe was pretty. He looked like a woman’s wet dream if you asked me.

  Tall, muscular, a slight beard. No identifying tattoos—that I could see—except for one single one on the inside of his elbow, and even then I had to squint to see it because it was the same color as his skin.

  “I’m here to talk to the pastor,” I interrupted her ogling. “Where is he?”

  The woman’s eyes flicked to me, then she flinched.

  “Oh, hello Mr. Casey.” She smiled, but I could tell it was strained. “Mr. Hanes is in with a friend right now at his home at the back of the church. He should be done with this appointment by eleven o’clock.”

  There was no way in hell I was waiting until eleven o’clock to address this. It was happening now.

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “We’ll be back at eleven then.”

  The receptionist smiled warily, looking relieved that I wouldn’t be waiting, and waved timidly.

  “Have a good day, Mr. Casey.”

  It was then that I placed who she was. Marion Kent. She’d been a friend of Hennessy’s while in high school.

  Was she still a friend?

  I doubted it.

  Rafe was nowhere to be found when I turned around, and I decided he’d have to catch up as I made my way out of the church.

  However, when I rounded the corner of the building and started walking down the path that led to the house that the church allowed their pastor and his family to live in, I found Rafe standing next to the front door, arms and legs crossed as he leaned against a pillar.

  “What the fuck?”

  Rafe grinned.

  “He’s fucking someone all right.”

  I winced.

  “Who?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Tall brunette with gold highlights. Older.”

  I knew instantly who it was.

  “Goddammit.”

  I knew exactly who Rafe was talking about, and I’d managed to avoid her since I’d gotten out of prison. It hadn’t been easy.

  “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to take the Lord’s name in vain on church grounds.”

  I laughed humorlessly at that.

  “The Lord already knows that I’m a sinner,” I told him bluntly. “And I don’t plan on asking for forgiveness seeing as I’d do it again over and over if I ever had the chance or the need to do it again.”

  Rafe shrugged, then levered himself off the pillar using just the strength in his legs.

  “Want me to knock?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Knock?”

  Then I pounded on the door before walking right in.

  Stupid pastor thought he was invincible. He’d never locked it, which I’d found out one other time when I had to confront him when it came to my mother.

  “Oh, mommy?” I bellowed. “Pastor Hanes! You have a visitor!”

  It didn’t take long for both of them to arrive—thankfully clothed.

  “Tate?” My mother said in confusion.

  She looked like shit. Too old for her age of fifty-nine, but apparently the pastor still dug that. Her makeup was smeared, her lips swollen and bruised from what I could only assume was them kissing.

  The thought of them doing anything at all turned my stomach, but I was here for Hanes. I’d be dealing with him despite the awkward situation.

  “Get out of my house, sinner!” Hanes bellowed the moment he hit the doorway, still buttoning the collar of his white dress shirt.

  Stupid mother fucker. Always with the white. God, he made me sick.

  “I’m not going anywhere until we discuss the fact that you’re assaulting your daughter. Breaking and entering into her home,” I said.

  The pastor’s face never changed. No surprise. No guilt. No nothing.

  “I don’t know what you speak of,” he lied straight faced. “But if you don’t get out of my house, I’ll be charging you with breaking and entering.”

  I smiled then, showing a row of straight white teeth.

  “Yeah?” I grinned. “I’ll leave, but only after you hear this one thing first.”

  Pastor Hanes didn’t say anything.

  “You touch her, or I even think that you’re thinking about touching her, again, and I’ll end you.”

  “Is that a
threat?” Pastor Hanes’ voice rose.

  I shrugged. “Take it as whatever you want to take it as, just know that if you touch her again, you’ll have me to deal with.”

  “You have no right to tell me how to raise my daughter.”

  I laughed at that. “Your daughter is well past grown. Trust me on this.”

  I walked out before he could reply, again finding that Rafe was gone.

  He also hadn’t caught back up by the time that I got to the truck, and I contemplated leaving him.

  After five more minutes, I started the truck, thinking that maybe he’d wanted me to leave him.

  But after another thirty seconds of waiting, I found him rounding the corner of the church again, walking slowly toward me.

  When he got in, I rose my brows at him in question.

  “Had some questions of my own,” he muttered. “Placed a bug, too.”

  I frowned. “You just happened to have one of those in your pocket?”

  He nodded, and I had no response to that.

  This man was a whole lot more than what he seemed, and only left me with more questions than answers.

  My phone rang before I could ask them, and I looked at the readout and contemplated answering it.

  In the end, I knew that I wouldn’t ignore it.

  “Hello?” I answered the phone as I drove.

  “Um, Tate?”

  My happy mood soured.

  “Rosemary,” I said carefully. “How are you?”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  My brows furrowed.

  I scratched my head. “I can’t do it today, Rose,” I told her. “I have a few things I need to take care of, and I’m ready to be home. I can meet you tomorrow, though.”

  Rosemary immediately agreed. “Okay.”

  Which was odd for her. Rosemary was an arguer. I always told her that she should try out for the debate team. She never liked hearing the word ‘no’ and she always argued, just because she could.

  I should’ve known then that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but chose to take the agreement for the boon it was.

  And I shouldn’t.

  “Where do you want to meet tomorrow?” I asked. “Lunchtime okay?”

  “Yes,” she agreed again. “That’s perfect. Can you meet me at Bord’s?”

  I didn’t want to go anywhere near that place, not even a little bit.

  “I don’t want to meet you there,” I told her bluntly. “I really don’t want to have anything to do with that place, or Ariya’s parents.”

  Bord’s was Ariya’s parents’—well, father and step mother—diner, bar, and grill.

  I loved their food. What I didn’t love was the company.

  “Please?”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Twelve?”

  “Eleven. Less people.”

  I should’ve asked why less people mattered, but I didn’t. I let it go, knowing that she’d keep arguing if I didn’t agree.

  “Fine,” I grunted. “Bye.”

  I didn’t wait for the reply, just hung up, and kept driving.

  “Who’s Rosemary?” Rafe asked.

  I sighed.

  “Ex’s sister,” I told him. “Why did you happen to have a bug in your pants that you could conveniently plant in the pastor’s house, and why did you volunteer to come with me?”

  Rafe grinned.

  “You’re not the only one with problems around here,” he told me. “Plus, I figured I’d do you a favor so I could collect my own later on.”

  That I believed.

  “Whatever,” I said, pulling the truck into traffic. “You want me to take you back to the office before I head home, or do you have somewhere else in mind?”

  “You can drop me off at the diner,” he told me. “I’ll find a ride back from there.”

  I did as he asked, trying not to think about anything that had to do with Pastor Hanes, and that included Hennessy and my mother.

  By the time I arrived at the diner, I’d very nearly managed to clear my head completely, only to get pissed all over again to see Hennessy walking down the sidewalk away from the gas station toward her car once again.

  She had those same taquitos as the day before, and I found myself pissed off at the way her hair was a jagged mess along the length of her shoulders.

  I’d enjoyed the hell out of running my fingers through it when she’d fucked me. Now I’d barely have anything to hold onto the next time I took her to bed.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Rafe said, shoving open the door.

  Then he slammed it shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  “The next time I take her to bed?” I asked myself aloud. “Seriously, Casey. You need to get your shit together.”

  I needed to, but did I? Hell no.

  I’d never once made the best decision that there was to make. I was a rebel. The type of man that didn’t march to the beat of anyone’s drum but his own. At thirty-seven years old, that was never going to change.

  She was who my body wanted, and she was who my body would have. It didn’t matter that she was the notorious good girl, and I was the infamous bad boy. What mattered was that we fucking wanted each other. We’d worry about the rest later.

  Chapter 14

  When someone tells me ‘you’re going to regret that in the morning’ I only laugh. Why? Because most of the time I sleep in until noon.

  -Krisney to Hennessy

  Hennessy

  I nervously worried my lip as I walked, looking both ways before I crossed the street to Tate’s place.

  He’d left me a note on my front door saying that he was at home whenever I got home, and to come over when I got changed into old clothes.

  Why I needed old clothes, I had no clue, but I did as he asked, changing into my oldest pair of jeans from high school that barely fit. They were old, stained, and so thin in some places that there probably wasn’t much life left in them. I followed the pants up with an old black t-shirt that used to be Reed’s—yes, I’d stolen that from Krisney, too. Finally, I finished the ensemble by putting on a pair of short ankle socks, my old Nikes that’d seen better days, and my hair up into a high ponytail.

  “Isn’t that Reed’s shirt?”

  I grinned and looked down at it, laughing.

  “Yeah, it was his old soccer shirt.” I nodded. “When Krisney and he split, she was going to throw everything away. I took it for safe-keeping.”

  And wore it, because why the hell not?

  The back of the shirt said ‘Hail’ with the number ten beneath it. It was obvious whose it was seeing as Reed was the one and only Hail brother that nearly went pro—so everybody knew who he was.

  “Yeah,” I grinned. “Why?”

  He was scowling, which caused my grin to slip away.

  “What?”

  His eyes came up to mine, and he gritted his teeth for a few seconds before saying, “I don’t like seeing some other man’s shirt on you, even if it was from when he was a little runt.”

  I looked down at the t-shirt.

  It was a large, and that was definitely not the size of Reed any longer.

  Speaking of Reed.

  “I saw Reed last week,” I told him, climbing his porch steps as I spoke. “Why is he here?”

  Tate shrugged. “Been here the last few days, actually. Assumed he was done over there to be honest. However, I can’t give you a for sure answer without asking him, and honestly I don’t fucking care that much.”

  So he didn’t know what was going on either. Interesting.

  Making a mental note to ask Krisney about Germany again, I took a look around at Tate’s house.

  The entire place looked like chaos. Electrical cords stretched everywhere. Tools on every available surface. Large sheets of plastic hanging down from the ceiling, and covering most of the floor.

  And empty fast food cups everywhere.
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  “You are a mess and a half,” I murmured, taking everything in.

  “I’m not usually,” he admitted. “Just fucking nice to be able to do shit that doesn’t have someone following behind me telling me I can’t. I have a stack of freakin’ clothes in my bedroom that I haven’t put into the washer yet, all because I don’t like to be put on a schedule.”

  I could imagine.

  I’d watched a documentary once about prisons. In it, they spoke about how the inmate’s entire life was dictated to them.

  They had someone telling them when they could eat. When they could shower. When they could go outside, and what they were allowed, and not allowed, to do while out there.

  Literally, there wasn’t a single thing that they could do without first having to run it past someone first.

  They even had their mail read before they got it.

  “Did you ever get marriage proposals from women who wrote you while you were in jail?”

  His brows rose, and then he shook his head, grinning.

  “No, can’t say that I did.”

  “Darn, I guess you never got any of my letters,” I teased.

  He burst out laughing and took hold of my hand, leading me deeper into the house.

  “What the hell are you going to do with all this space?” I asked him, my eyes widening, further and further, the more rooms we passed through.

  “Not a damn thing,” he said. “I’m gonna fix it up and flip it once I’m done with it.”

  My heart deflated.

  Knowing that he wasn’t going to be living next to me for the rest of my life kind of sucked. He would’ve looked so pretty mowing his lawn without a shirt on.

  “That’s fun,” I lied. “How much more work do you have to do on it?”

  He shrugged. “A lot. Another six to eight months worth if all goes well.”

  I let my hands trail against the wall in the hallway, and then stopped when I saw the kitchen.

  This must’ve been where he started, because it was the most finished out of all the rooms.

  “Wow,” I said, trailing my hand across the cabinets. “This looks like it’s almost done.”

  He opened the fridge and bent forward, coming back out moments later with two beers.

  He offered me one, and I looked at it curiously.