“He isn’t capable of change. He’ll always take the easy way out. So what, if he can say it’s for the good of his town, that’s just an excuse.”
Abram raised one hand, placating them. “Stop. Fighting isn’t helping us. Frank, you may be right—or you might have misjudged a man, even if you had good reason. We don’t know, and can’t know, but I think he could move a mountain and you’d wonder why he didn’t move two. Let’s just focus on what we can control, what we can do. We can help these people boost their defenses, and maybe in doing it, we’ll help keep our own families safe. Okay?”
Silence.
“I said, okay?”
“Fine,” Frank said as he rolled over. “Wake me up when the magic fairies let us out of here. My money’s on Kent leaving us in here just so he doesn’t have to deal with me, ‘good of the town’ be damned.”
Abram settled back down onto his pillow, the hard floor making his ribs ache at his age, and tried to go back to sleep as well. Thankfully, Owen let it go, too. There wasn’t much point to arguing about it—events would prove Frank wrong, or they’d prove him right, but fighting over it wasn’t going to help anything.
Kent woke up and pried his eyelids open, only to find Brooke sitting on the bed beside him, fully dressed. But his first thought was about Frank. How was the old man doing? His second thought was to wonder why she was up and dressed. His tongue didn’t work quite right as he groggily said, “Huh? What’s up? You good?”
Brooke nodded. Behind her, the window was brightly lit by the dawning sun, though the blinds kept the light from being too blinding. “Yeah. I need to talk to you about something.”
Oh, damn. “Did I do something?”
A faint smile stole across her face. “No. Which is a problem, but before I get to that…When are you gonna go see your old man?”
This was not how he had wanted his morning to begin. Actually, he’d sort of hoped he’d wake up to find them gone—it wasn’t like the room he’d put them in could hold anyone determined to get out. Wishful thinking, perhaps. “I guess today, sometime. I can’t avoid him forever.”
She reached over and cupped his hand in hers. “Why, do you want to? Before you know it, the chance will be gone—forever.”
“I…kind of want to. Can I have coffee before we start this kind of talk, though?”
She reached behind her with her other hand, to the nightstand, and then brought it back with a white, steaming mug of coffee. “Way ahead of you, baby.” The corner of her mouth ticked upward, just a bit, as she handed it to him.
That first sip was always a soul-touching moment, but this morning, the brief silence it bought him was even better. It gave his mind a chance to kick in and push away the sleep cobwebs.
All too soon, though, she broke the silence, asking, “So, why would you want to avoid him? He loved her as much as you did, you know. I’m sure he hurt as much as you did, maybe more, when your wife died. You two should be sharing her memory, not fighting over it.”
Kent grunted. “Tell that to him.”
She slid her hand back onto her lap. “I don’t have to. You can tell him yourself. But remember that he’s here, he came to you, and I feel like that says something.”
“It says he needs something really badly,” he replied.
The pained expression that flashed across her face made him immediately regret it. He added, “Sorry. I know that sounds harsh. But he hasn’t talked to me in a long time, and he wouldn’t have come after all this time just to talk to me about that. Mark my words, he’s here for something else.”
She stood and stretched. Kent watched, mesmerized as the window’s light silhouetted her figure. She had the most graceful curves, and maybe she wasn’t built thick, like the women in most of his past relationships, but she was no less curvy for that. Still, it was her mind that most attracted him, not her figure. Even if it could be easy to forget how sharp she was beneath her farm-bred accent and all that, she was dangerously smart. The challenge of keeping up with her was half of what he loved about her—
“Answer me,” she said with flushed cheeks under his intense stare, interrupting his thoughts. “Why do you want to avoid him?”
Damn. Misdirection hadn’t worked. She rarely let him get away with that, though, so it came as no surprise. He paused to collect his thoughts before replying, and as always, she waited patiently while he did so.
When he figured out how he wanted to phrase it at last, he said, “The last time we spoke, both of us said angry words. I said things I shouldn’t have, and he said things he meant, and still means. Normally, I don’t care what no man thinks of me; I do what I think is right, and damn them. But Frank is a stand-up guy. He’s solid, a man I respected. I tried to live up to his expectations, and that made me a better man. But that just meant that, when he turned his back on me over a mistake I had no control over, it hurt. So, I lashed out.”
She smiled. “Your feelings got hurt. Ha ha, you have feelings,” she said, drawing out the last word teasingly. “I always said you had feels in you.”
“I do not,” Kent replied, and stuck out his tongue. But as much as he valued these little bonding moments with Brooke, it was just about time to start his day in earnest. He had to wrap the conversation up, though he knew how important this was to her, so he continued, “But you didn’t just want to talk about some old beef. You got a reason for bringing it up. What’s really on your mind?”
She shrugged. “I went to talk to them.”
Kent paused. His first reaction was anger—no one liked to have people meddle in their personal affairs. But she had a good head on her shoulders, as he’d been so sharply reminded just moments before. Whatever her reasons had been, she’d thought them important enough to violate his privacy—which she had never done casually. “Okay…Before I get angry about that, I guess I should ask why you stuck your nose in my business.”
She bit her lower lip, then said, “Don’t sound like that. I wasn’t trying to be nosey. But I heard they were here about bandits, then Danny showed up—with the truck full of food—and he was talking about bandits, too. Not just any bandits, but the ones led by the man who killed my daddy.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I know you were close—”
She waved him silent. “We don’t got time for that right now. I won’t sleep right until I watch that bastard bleed out, but you got a town to think about, not just me, and I figured your pops would have something to say about the situation. I was right, they had a lot to say about bandits. Not that one in particular, but in general.”
“Go on.” This was heading somewhere, and he wanted to see where. He fought the urge to look at his watch, though.
“You’ve got to decide what to do if the bandits come a-knocking, like Danny says they will. But if you cave in and give the bully your lunch money, I guarantee that ain’t going to work out so well—”
“That isn’t exactly right. Bullies don’t carve you up if you say no. They beat you up, and you go cry to Moms ’bout it, but you live. If those guys do show up, they’ll be worse than some school bully.”
She peered at him intently for a long moment, and Kent felt like he could almost see her thoughts fighting it out in her head, but at last, she gave a little shake of her head and said, “It seems to me that, whether you decide to fight for what’s ours or to hand it over, we’d be better off with some stronger protection. If we fight, we’re better off, but even if we give in, at least we’ll be in what my daddy would call ‘a stronger negotiating position.’ You know, get them to just take a quarter of our stuff, instead of half, or every other month instead of weekly. That sort of thing.”
“You figure so?” Kent cocked his head to one side.
“I guess. Am I wrong?”
Kent smelled a trap. She was about to outmaneuver him, somehow. Cautiously, he said, “We can negotiate, either way…”
“But bullies only respect strength, whether they want your lunch money or your people’s food. If you look strong, they think y
ou are strong. Right?”
“I guess.” Dammit. Instantly, he regretted his answer. All he could do then was to wait for the trap to spring.
Brooke smirked, confirming his suspicions.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, waiting.
She said, “Well, it turns out that your father-in-law and his boss, and all their people, they already fought off a whole bandit army. Not the same ones Danny’s runnin’ from, but Frank and his people was outnumbered like five-to-one, or something like that. They didn’t win just by shooting straighter than all them other folks. They got strategies. They got ideas. And, they got experience we don’t. So…why don’t you let me tap that? Let me take advantage of them while they’re here. They can help us beef up our defense, so we can stop our bandits cold—and keep them out of my ‘end-zone,’ when they come, if you know what I mean.”
Kent stared, speechless for once. The thought of some bandit taking advantage of her…He shuddered.
She said, “I’m just saying, we should look strong so they think we are. It’s win-win.” She paused, but before Kent could think of something to say, she added, “Unless you know a reason why protecting me better ain’t better, after all?”
Kent squashed his irritation. Yeah, she had just maneuvered him into a corner all right, just like he’d suspected she would. His mind raced, trying to think of a reason to say no. Any reason. But then, it occurred to him, maybe saying no wasn’t the right move. Even though she had painted him into a corner, was she wrong? Her reasons didn’t feel wrong.
At last, he let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can have your pet project, but it’s on you, okay? You’re in charge. You The Man on this one. It’s all you, babe.”
She clapped her hands together and bounced, then jumped on him where he sat on the bed, landing on his lap, and planted one helluva kiss on him, through his surprised grin.
The last thing he saw before she pushed him back, and other things occupied his thoughts, was the wind-up clock that read seven fifteen. His first meeting wasn’t for half an hour…
Abram set aside his breakfast tray, which, all things considered, wasn’t too bad. Being fed at all was a bonus, but oatmeal with maple syrup, toast with fresh butter, and a side of thick-cut bacon that had a nice hickory-smoked flavor? That was more than prisoners should expect. It gave him some hope that they might not be doomed. Still, he couldn’t help but worry about Shelly and Emma and longed to return to his compound, to be there to protect his family.
He glanced at his watch. Five to eight in the morning…He climbed to his feet and began to stretch, working out the painful kinks from sleeping on the floor. They’d been given lots of pillows, which they’d arranged as bedding and used jackets as blankets, but it was a far cry from a real mattress.
The sound of someone unlocking the door punctuated the silence, and he turned toward the door. A tall, well-built man stepped in wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt, and had a police-style duty belt around his waist full of equipment. Behind him, the woman, Brooke, walked in as well, wearing a smile.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Abram said. “Sir,” he added for the guy, whoever he was. He looked important, and his bearing was confident.
She stepped around the man, who was busy visually scanning the room, Abram suspected by habit. She replied, “Mornin’. So, I have some good news. Or, it could be, if you play your cards right.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she said with a cheery smile. “Kent has decided, for some reason, no idea why, that what this town really needs is some better defense. He thinks maybe you guys can help us with that. You know, tell us what’s broken, what works, what we need but ain’t got. Of course, it’d mean you get to leave this room. You’d be on my team, ’cause he put me in charge of it.”
The other man’s jaw clenched and unclenched, twice.
She continued, “The thing is, I know I don’t know so much about it. But you do, so. What do you think?”
The man’s eyes went wide in apparent surprise, for a moment, and his expression softened as he glanced at her.
Abram suppressed a smile. It seemed Mr. Goon had underestimated that woman. Given her height and country polish, that would be easy to do, but Abram had already suspected she was formidable, in her own way. “I can’t speak for my companions, but I’ll be glad to get out of here for a while. Count me in.”
“I’m in, too,” Owen said.
Frank grunted, frowned, but nodded.
“Good. Okay, Dean. Let ’em loose.” She looked to the polo-wearing man.
The man, apparently named Dean, tightened his jaw, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Turning to face Abram directly, Dean said, “It seems you have free rein to wander around and stick your noses in our business. Rule One: If you’re out of this room, you’re with Brooke. You are still not cleared to do your wandering around on your own. Rule Two: Any changes you folks want to see made, they go through me. Protecting these people is my responsibility, and I will not be responsible for something I have no control over. So, if she okays it, and only then, you will come to me to make it happen. Are we clear?”
His sweeping gaze included Brooke, Abram noted.
Abram started to reply, but she beat him to it. “Of course, Dean. You’re in charge of this stuff for a reason, and Kent trusts you with all our lives. I promise not to step on your…toes.”
His mouth ticked upward at one corner. “Very well. Then, carry on. I look forward to hearing any suggestions.”
Once Dean walked out, leaving the door wide open, Abram inclined his head to Brooke. “Thank you. We won’t make trouble, and I hope we can do some good. As long as we’re stuck here, we may as well help out how we can.”
“Excellent,” she said, beaming. Then, more seriously, she said, “Maybe the first thing we should do is to go talk to that bandit guy, the one who claims he came to warn us. Maybe you can find out more about what we’re up against?”
“Sounds good.” Abram held out his hand, inviting her toward the door. “Lead the way, ma’am.” Although he wore a polite smile, he was having a hard time suppressing a rather savage glee. At last, he’d get to meet one of the enemy. Hopefully, he’d learn much, even if, as he suspected likely, the man didn’t want to reveal anything. People could say a lot without speaking a single word, in Abram’s experience.
30
Danny slid his breakfast tray through the slot under the thick, bulletproof glass and nodded in thanks to the man on the other side, who had brought his meal. He had been a little surprised that they had fed him at all, but it spoke well of them as a community. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised at being so roughly detained, because he looked like what he was—a bandit turned refugee, arriving with a stolen truck of loot. Still, they hadn’t been too rough on him when they detained him, and though he’d had a cold night sleeping on the thin mattress on the cement floor, they’d given him a thick blanket to stave off the worst of the cold.
The man on the other side took the tray and left without a word, leaving Danny to pace the room’s length. They had locked him into a stripped-out check-cashing place, but as an effective impromptu jail cell, it was damn near perfect. There was no way he could break the bulletproof glass, and both the doors he could access were heavy, solid, steel fire doors. Anything he could have used to try to escape was long gone, leaving what had once been the tellers’ area a barren cement cubicle.
After a few minutes, he tired of pacing, so he plopped down on the mattress and leaned his back against the wall. Sooner or later, someone would come to talk to him, he figured. Or they’d kill him. Either way, these accommodations were only temporary.
The front door banging open startled Danny. He climbed to his feet to look through the window, and saw Brooke coming through the door, followed by three men. He gave her a faint smile. It was good to see she was alive, and even better that she had made sure he stayed alive when he’d turned himself in. But she didn’t smile
back.
One of the men looked really familiar, though as he racked his brain to remember where he might have seen the man, he drew a blank. Danny stepped away from the glass, and away from the doors, and stuck his hand in his pockets and slouched, hoping to appear less threatening. Not that he was an imposing figure anyway, particularly as he was locked safely away where he couldn’t have gotten to them if he’d tried.
The four approached the glass and stood in a row, where they could all get a good look at him. When he smiled and nodded to the assembled visitors, Brooke looked away, and stood a half-step behind the men. Only the familiar-looking man nodded back. After a few seconds spent basically staring at one another through the glass, the man broke the silence by clearing his throat, then said, “So. Your name is Danny, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Danny offered no additional information, deciding to let him lead the conversation completely.
“I’m told you’re from Clarks Crossing, and that you arrived in a truck full of loot. Is that right?”
That most definitely was not right. Danny shook his head. “Whoa. No. At least, not the way you make it sound. Clarks Crossing has a new head honcho, and he decided it was easier and safer, in the long run, to threaten violence against other survivors unless they pay him tribute.”
“That is just a fancy word for loot, mister. If they are giving you bandits their food, how did you get your hands on it, and how did you manage to get away, alone? I don’t think they’d have sent you to pick up a truck full of loot all by your lonesome.”
Danny eyed the familiar-looking man. He was sharp, that one. The memory of his companion’s blood gushing over Danny’s hand struck him, and he took a deep, shaky breath. He looked down at his feet. “I meant to use a ruse to escape, so I could come warn the next group on his list. That’s you folks. I thought that maybe if you were forewarned, you could meet the problem head-on. Clarks Crossing is full of my people, not this piss-ant warlord’s, but the man is charismatic. He’s got them all fooled, and somehow figured out a way to talk himself into our leader’s chair, just the minute he figured out how to remove its former occupant.”
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 20
