WALKER: The men of Whiskey Mountain

by Love, Frankie

  “You know I can do it now, don't you?” Maker hisses. “If I wanted, I could hold this gun up to your head and take you out of my misery,” my bother sneers.

  “Then why don't you?” I ask threateningly and I know I'm walking on fire. I don't want to burn because I have too much to live for.

  “Because I care about getting that money more than I care about you staying alive. That's what matters to me.”

  I look him dead on. “So, the cartel is still after you? You fucked more deals up with them?”

  My brother wipes his mouth where I hit him. “Maybe,” he says coolly. “But it's nothing to you. You left this business when you left the family. Forcing me to deal with the problems Dad made. You were too chicken shit to man up and take over like you were supposed to.”

  “You know I wanted out.”

  My brother laughs sharply. “Fuck you, Walker. Dad was up to his eyeballs with broken promises and then you left me to deal with it. You think I wanted to take over a business that was covered in blood, debt, and nearly ruined?”

  I look at Maker, the words hitting me hard. Never once did I think he didn’t want this life. But now I wonder if he is as desperate for a way out as I am.

  “You really want out?”

  “You must have realized this,” Maker shouts. At me, mania mixed with terror. I see my brother is in serious trouble. He runs his hands through his hair. “Since when did a few hundred thousand dollars and some coke in a duffle bag mean life or death? It does now because after you ran off to God knows where I stayed behind. I dealt with the cartel who was up my ass. I dealt with the problems Dad started and now I’m fucked, Walker. I'm having to fix this with the cartel, and that's where you come in. Go get me my money or I'll make sure you never see this wifey of yours again.”

  “Go,” Waverly says. “Just do it. Come back for me. I can defend myself.”

  Maker grabs her by the wrist. “Oh, shut your mouth, you spoiled princess. You may have gotten my brother to get you to believe you are worth something, but you aren't. You met me because I was paying you to sit on my cock. Nothing's changed. You're still a dirty little whore.”

  I growl, my fist smashing into Maker's jaw. Wavy screams and I pull back my bloody knuckles and stalk out of the room. Beam follows me. “I’ll get your money,” I shout. “But don't you dare touch my girl.”

  And then I leave. I want to look back. I want to pull Waverly into my arms. I want to tell her I love her and that nothing will ever change that. I want to tell her she is my home. I want to tell her I will take care of her until the day I die.

  But more than that, I don’t trust my brother. I never have and I never will. And maybe I fucked him over by leaving, without asking him what he wanted. But fuck, all I knew was that I needed to be gone or I’d stay forever.

  It kills me to leave her with him now, but it's only for a matter of a couple of hours. I'll get the drugs and I'll come back for the love of my life.

  In Beam’s car, I try to contain myself. I want to slam his head against the steering wheel and take over. But if I do that, there'll be hell to pay, and I can't do that to Waverly. So, instead, I go back to where we started this morning, the train station in San Diego. I go to the row of lockers that Waverly instructed and to get the money for my asshole of a brother.

  The duffle bag is still there, in row 15, locker 218. I can smell the coke, the cash, and I wrap my fists around the bag, jut my chin at Beam. “We can go.”

  He huffs knowingly. We walk back in his car and I feel like maybe everything's going to be okay. I made a deal with the devil, but it will give me back the love of my life and everything is going to be okay.

  Until I realize that Waverly wouldn't want this. Wouldn't want me to make a deal with the man who killed her sister.

  Beam is totally off guard with the keys to the car in his hand, when I knock out his knees. When I slam my elbow in his back and force him to the pavement of the parking lot. “Just returning the favor,” I grunt, hitting him so hard he passes out and slumps into my arms. I slide him into the car then toss the duffle bag in the back. Beam’s in the passenger seat, bloody and half broken. Pushing the key into the ignition, I make a choice that will change everything.

  It's not how I thought this day would go, but there's no way in hell I'm giving my brother what he wants.

  26

  Waverly

  I'm scared to breathe.

  My fright only makes it worse.

  It's just the two of us here in this warehouse., and I don't know where Maker lives and where he comes from and what he was before. Besides being the man who let my sister die.

  I'm all about second chances, but how many chances did Jemma get?

  She needed him to give her one more. Needed Maker to pick up the phone and call nine-one-one and try to save her life. Instead, he did worse by her.

  He threw her overboard and I didn’t even get to watch as she washed away. I never even got to say good-bye.

  God, I miss her.

  I blink away the tears, wondering what my life would've been like if she hadn't died.

  Would I have ended up with Maker that night on the boat? Would I have been forced to strip down to nothing and lie on his bed and let him take me?

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  The idea’s wrecking me. It's not that I'm glad my sister died so I could escape Maker.

  But I am grateful I didn't end up in this man's arms, with his body pressed against my body, my virginity his instead of his brother’s.

  I was given another chance. Alaska. A week at a fucked-up commune that led me to Walker.

  That led me home.

  I press my hand to my flat belly. The idea of carrying a child, Walker’s child, takes my breath away and I don't want Maker to realize just how weak I am… but the truth is, right now I feel like a wilted flower. Like I could fall over with the slightest breath. I'm exhausted. Heart, mind, body, and soul, and I just want Walker back. I want to be alone with him, in his cabin. I want to grow this child in the safety of his embrace. I want my belly to get round and my breasts to be full. I want to give him this gift of life.

  I want to be his wife, his everything.

  And as I stand here with Maker, this man who took all those chances away from my sister, I want to kill him.

  “What do you think I plan on doing with you?” he asks me, giving me a cocky look that has me wincing with disgust. But then his eyes flash with something I recognize.

  Regret.

  And crazy as it might seem, I can see now how he is a brother to the man I love.

  They have the same hair, same eyes, big build, broad shoulders, and are both tall. Both carry a lifetime of unease — I understand Walker’s, but Maker’s? I don’t know.

  Walker seems to use his size as a strength, but Maker’s is a weakness. Yes, both these men are handsome, but Maker’s features are his downfall. His looks matter more to him than they should.

  Not every man with money uses women, but maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was desperate and afraid and needed to go to bed with a woman wrapped around him. Maybe he needed to breathe her in, kiss her lips and be reminded of humanity, of life.

  But maybe, I'm being too soft on a man who is nothing but cold. Maybe I’m looking for the best when there is none.

  Maybe Maker is nothing more than a murderer.

  But Walker has killed men too. Done worse. He was a drug runner, just like Maker. He comes from the same place; his veins bleed the same blood. But does that mean they're the same people?

  I don't know what to think. I wrap my arms around my chest and close my eyes. I don't want to see Maker. I don't want to think about this, be faced with it. I just want Walker back here with me, forever.

  “So, what do you think?” Maker asks. “Should we play a little game on my brother?”

  I shake my head. “I won't play anything with you.”

  “Ah, and here, I thought you were a girl who liked to have fun,” he laughs. “Th
at’s never has been Walker's way though has it?”

  “I wouldn't know,” I say. “I just met him.”

  Maker sizes me up. “You really didn't have some scheme with him going on before you showed up on my yacht?”

  I open my eyes realizing Maker really thinks that Walker and I staged a coup. Had some sort of master plan.

  “When I met Walker, I had no idea you were his brother. Truly,” I tell him, wondering why I'm trying to defend myself by explaining things to a monster.

  “You expect me to believe that?” he asks, stepping closer to me. He takes my wrist in his hand, holds it up over my head. He's close. I can smell him. See him. I want to run. He won't let me. He's forcing me to stay.

  “I don't care what you believe, Maker. I hate you. And nothing will change that.”

  Maker glares at me. “Why do you love him?” he asks.

  It's the last thing I expect. Him to question my love for Walker and when he does, I realize I was right. Maker is a broken man, flawed and potentially unworthy of my forgiveness, but he is as worthy of love as everyone.

  I don’t answer him the way he wants. “Jemma was my sister.” There's no flash of recognition on Maker's face. “The girl who died,” I press, tears burning my eyes. “She overdosed on your yacht; you threw her overboard. That was my sister. You wouldn't call for help.”

  “I didn’t throw anyone anywhere,” he says finally, but I know he remembers. Still, he doesn’t look sorry. He looks pissed. “You don’t believe me?”

  I shake my head. “It’s what you told me.”

  “That is what I needed to tell you. It made it easier, didn’t it? Got you off my back? I didn’t realize you were a fucking thief. I also didn’t know you two were sisters. That complicated things.”

  “What do you mean, made it easier?”

  Maker runs a hand over his jaw. “It was a fucked-up night from what I remember. She was coked out of her mind--“

  I cut him off. “You both were.”

  “Yeah, and you were new to the scene and fucking hysterical.”

  “I was watching my sister die.”

  “Yeah, so we got you out of the room and made a call. Called in a favor with a friend and they took her to a hospital so she wouldn’t be connected to us. I couldn’t tell you. It wasn’t worth the risk. If we told you, you’d have implicated us. Right?”

  I swallow trying to understand what he is saying. “I guess. So, where is she?”

  Maker shakes his head. “She died on the way. I’m sorry, Waverly.”

  I exhale, holding on to hope a beat too long. “It’s still your fault,” I say. “You should have called an ambulance sooner.”

  “That would have sent me to prison. It would have had the FBI chase Walker down in Alaska if I would have called the cops in for your sister. And you would never meet the man you say you love because he'd be behind bars in prison for the rest of his Goddamn fucking life.”

  I don't want to think about what he is saying because it makes everything too complicated.

  The idea that my sister had to die for me to carry this child, the one growing within me now. The idea that my sister had to die for Walker and me to be together is wrong. Cruel. Twisted and broken.

  I don't want to think about it. Why can't it be black and white?

  But Walker said that his brother always lived in the gray.

  “That's a hard pill to swallow, ain't it?” he asks softer than I expect. “But you can forgive yourself. What’s done is done, right?”

  “No. It’s not that easy,” I say, my fingers curled up into fists, pounding against his chest. “Don't talk about her like that. She was my family. I loved her. I love her.”

  Maker grabs my wrists, pushes me into the wall. Not hard, but enough to get my attention. To remind me who is in control here. “I understand that all too well. Walker is all I have and he left me too.”

  “He wasn’t trying to hurt you by leaving,” I say my eyes burning.

  “Doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

  “Does it have to be like this?” I ask.

  “He made his choice. Unlike my brother, I actually care about whether or not I fuck my family over. Now I'm just looking for a way out of my goddamn problems.”

  “What’s your plan?” I ask him. “You're gonna take the cash from Walker and run to Alaska as he did. Walk away? I don't believe you. You like this life. You have the yacht, the girls, the booze, the money.”

  Maker laughs. “You don't know me. Just like Walker doesn't know me. I stayed because someone had to clean up this mess my father made, or the cops would be coming down my throat and Walker's throat for the rest of our goddamn lives.”

  I shake my head. Not liking the words he insists on saying. “So, you're saying Walker is the villain in all of this? It’s his fault.”

  “I’m saying he sure as hell ain't the hero.”

  “But you are?” I shake my head, hating him.

  “I dunno what I am, Waverly. But I know I'm going to be an uncle.”

  I pull back, realizing he heard what I said to Walker before he left. I press my hand to my belly.

  “Does that change anything for you?” I ask him. “The idea that you still have a family?”

  Maker lifts his eyebrows, lets his shoulders fall. “Changes everything.”

  “How?”

  “Goddammit,” Maker says, shaking his head. Regret. “I never wanted this life. Walker had it in his head that I did, but he's been wrong about me since the beginning. This was never my dream. It was our father’s crooked mess, but it was never supposed to be mine. I'm done. I should have walked when my brother did.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” I ask. “When Walker brings you the drugs?”

  “I’m going to give them to the cartel and then I'm going to walk away. Forever.”

  I take a long, shaky breath, thinking that maybe we can all get out of this alive. “And me and Walker, you'll let us go?”

  Maker looks at me with hope. “We'll all walk away, Wavy one way or another. It’s time we all got the hell out of this place.”

  For a moment, I think maybe… just maybe… everything is going to be okay. Maybe this nightmare will have some sort of saving grace.

  Maker lets go of my wrists, and I exhale. Not liking him — the memory of my sister is still too fresh in my mind. But the fury I felt for him has been replaced with something darker, something deeper.

  But then, just like that, everything changes.

  A gunshot echoes through the empty warehouse.

  Then another. And another.

  If Maker and I thought we were getting out of here without a scratch, we were mistaken.

  27

  Walker

  Pulling out of the parking lot, my eyes are fixed on getting to the police station. It’s not a place I’ve ever thought of visiting of my own free will — but things are changing. And fast.

  I’ve always said I lived in the black and white, and I suppose, when push comes to shove, it’s the damn truth. Straight up, no way around it — I am tired of playing a game where money trumps morality.

  It’s risky — and I need Waverly in my arms — but I also need to truly put an end to all of this. Once and for all.

  But as I begin to take a left, I see three black SUVs hanging a right and I know their plates. Know those guys.

  Fuck.

  “Where you going?” Beam moans, clutching his face. His nose broke when he fell into the pavement. He’s had a hell of a few days and I know I played more than a small role in that. It’s because of me he was shot in the first place and how he managed to get out of my cabin alive and fly a plane, makes me think he was wearing a bulletproof vest when he knocked on my door. Might be the smartest thing the fucker has ever done in his life.

  “Not the time, Beam,” I growl at him, turning the wheel hard, needing to ride the ass of those SUVs.

  “Is that them?” Beams groans. “Fuck, this is bad.”

  “I know.”
I grit my teeth together. “How much ammo you got in the trunk?”

  “Enough.”

  “Good,” I grunt, accelerating, not wanting to lose them. But it only takes a minute to realize where they are headed. To the mother fucking warehouse.

  A semi-truck weaves through traffic and I have to swerve to stay this side of hell. My chest pounds as I lose the SUVs for a minute, but then I catch a glimpse of a taillight headed down Santana Boulevard and I take a right, pushing on the gas.

  When I pull up to the warehouse, the SUVs beat me by a solid three minutes, easily. Fuck, is all I can think. But also, there is no way in hell I’m losing my girl now.

  Beam pops open the trunk — we may be enemies, but right now we have a bigger rival. He tosses me an automatic and grabs one for himself, we both shove a pistol in our pants, and make a run for it just as we hear the shots.

  My heart falls to my stomach and anger fills the very fiber of my being. No way is the cartel coming here, now, and taking the mother of my child from me.

  It’s not the way our story is gonna end.

  I charge into the warehouse, blood boiling and fury written on my heart. I love Waverly and she loves me, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from being the man she needs. Now and forever.

  I take careful aim amid all the firing, intent on dropping my opponent. I start with one target, then the next, knowing that when a bullet strikes, it’s aimed to kill. Beam is alongside me. I may have tried to leave the family business, but I’ve been tracked down, dragged through the mud, and sent right back to where I started. Gun in my hand, fully loaded, taking aim.

  I’ve taken three men down, and I dive behind a concrete wall for cover. I roll, seeing a glimpse of Maker covering Waverly with his arm, shielding her. A member of the cartel charges after them, pulling at Waverly, attempting to take her out from under Maker’s hands. But Maker fights back, gives Waverly cover as she makes a dash for a concrete pillar.

  A bullet is aimed at the love of my life, and my brother dives, taking the shot, straight in his arm. Taking the bullet for Waverly.