Hustle

by Teagan Kade

  Razor looks tired more than anything. “We were at the Bluff, Bo and I. He wiped out, hit the reef pretty hard but kept surfing. I guess the whites’ territory is shifting. They must have been attracted by the blood. Fucking little fighter fought it off, even though it had a good hold on his torso and leg. I managed to get him back to town before he bled out, had a chopper from the city hospital come and get him.”

  “But he’ll be okay, won’t he?”

  Razor nods. “Yeah, he’ll have a big-ass scar alright, but he’ll live. We’re made from tougher stuff, you see.”

  “You should be there with him too. You should both be by his side.”

  “Deacs wanted someone here when you arrived. There was a bunch of paperwork at the hospital, stuff you need an actual brain for. It was best he do it.”

  “How did he even know I was coming back?”

  A smile spans out on Razor’s face, his own scar shrinking in the process. “He called your buddy Jason, sussed it out.”

  I gulp thinking of how impossibly awkward that conversation must have been. “Oh.”

  Razor pulls out a chair from the kitchen table. “Here, sit. You want anything?”

  “Water, thanks.”

  Razor heads to the fridge, taking out a water for me and a beer for himself. He places my water down and sits holding up the beer can. “‘VB’ they call this stuff. Tastes like rat piss at first, but fuck me if you don’t get used to it. Like a lot of things over here, I guess, it’s an acquired taste. Suppose you could say the same about all of us, especially Deacs. I mean, that is why you came back, isn’t it?”

  I unsling my handbag and place it on the table, a little more settled now I know Bo will be okay. “We’ll see.”

  “It hasn’t been the same without you. I haven’t seen Deacon this moody since…”

  “Since?

  Razor shakes his head and places the beer can on the table. “You’ve got to understand, Deacon’s been through a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Razor seems reluctant to tell me, but he sees the look in my eye and relents, perhaps understanding it’s time for Deacon to move on. From what, I think I’m about to find out.

  “There was a girl, Abbey, back home in the States. We sort of grew up together. Anyhow, her and Deacon were a thing for a long time, one of those real fairytales, you know?”

  “She was a surfer?”

  “Everyone is a surfer around Newport. It was perfect—they couldn’t get enough of each other. They were even gonna be married.”

  “What happened?”

  Razor shakes his head. “I can’t.”

  “I need to know,” I press, “please.”

  He looks at the beer. “She died. A big, fuck-off swell came through and we decided to hit up the Wedge. It was huge out there, epic stuff, but dangerous. I didn’t go out. I was too fucking scared, and that’s saying something, but Deacon and Abbey? They were another breed. She would charge anything. It didn’t matter how big or heavy it was, she was always out there with the boys showing them up.”

  He stops and I let him take his time.

  Finally, he breathes out. “A big set came through, a freak set, really. I don’t even know why she set herself up to take that wave. It was a monster, but she did. The thing closed out early, absolutely pulverized her. She couldn’t get up, disappeared under the water for a long time—way too long.”

  He stops again, continuing to shake his head.

  I lean across the table. “Please, Razor.”

  “Deacon found her floating unconscious, managed to get her to shore, but there was an issue with the ambulance call-out. It took almost half an hour to arrive. He performed CPR the whole time, pounding on her chest, begging her to come back. I mean, fuck, it was a dark time. They had to drag him away. He punched one of the paramedics when they told him she was gone, right in the face. He didn’t want to believe it, not for the longest time.”

  “Is that why he moved?”

  “How much do you know?”

  “I know about Millertown, what went down.”

  Razor looks to me. “Millertown. Yeah. I mean, he didn’t point at a map and choose that shithole. He asked for a transfer as far away from the coast as possible, and that’s where they placed him. After her death, he was on a fucking mission—a robot. I don’t think he would have cared if they sent him to Juarez. He wanted to take out that pain, bash in some heads. Guess he got his wish.

  “By the time all the shit went down, we were in danger too. I mean, fuck, a group of them showed up at the house in Newport. Bo saw them coming around the back, managed to take out the first two with a baseball bat, thought they were burglars.” He runs a finger down the scar on his face. “The third got me with s switchblade before I fucked up his leg. Bikie prick managed to get away, but that was it. Deacon got home at the same time, sorted it out, but after that we decided together to move away, start fresh.”

  “Buy why here, why Finke?”

  Razor laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Finke’s pretty fucking remote. Deacon heard about Shipstern from one of his buddies up in Sydney, always wanted to come, so why the hell not? It’s quiet, a small town—no one knew us when we arrived and we’ve tried to keep our noses down—‘tried’ being the operative word, because Deacon can’t fucking help it. He’s got to protect everyone. Even you.”

  I lean back. “I had no idea.”

  “You never heard this from me. The thing with Abbey? That was over two years ago, but it’s still raw. You can see it in him, the pain. It’s part of the reason why he pushed you away, but if anyone can help him heal, it’s you. Fucking cheesy as it sounds, you’re special, Lux. I mean, I’d bone you.”

  I don’t even see Razor and Bo like that anymore. They feel more like brothers to me. I roll my eyes. “You’d bone me? And you wonder why you can’t pick up…”

  Just as I say it the front door opens and there stands Deacon in his leather jacket, grocery bags in hand.

  I stand and turn.

  We stare at each other.

  He’s trying to keep his excitement down, but I can see the way he lights up at the sight of me.

  I nod down to the groceries. “You brought supplies.”

  He smiles and the relief that floods through me is overwhelming. “Couldn’t have you starving now, could we?” He reaches into one of the grocery bags and takes out a giant tub of Vegemite. This should last you for—oh, I don’t know—a couple of years.”

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” says Razor, standing up and drifting away with his beer. I barely notice I’m so fixed on Deacon.

  “I—”

  “I—”

  We both speak at the same time.

  “You go.”

  “No, you go.”

  It feels so awkward, our first time yet again.

  Deacon places the grocery bags down and steps closer. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand, and I’m sorry about Bo. Razor just filled me in.”

  “Bo will be okay. He’s fucking lucky, but he’ll be okay. What do you mean you understand?” There’s hope in his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight.

  “Why you pushed me away. I’m here to tell you not to worry. I know why you came here and I know what you’re running from. I know about the thing in Millertown. I know your real name is Damien.”

  “Was,” he corrects.

  “I know about Abbey, your past, and I want to be with you all the same. Question is, will you have me?”

  He breathes in. “This isn’t right. It’s too easy. I should be on fucking knees, groveling.” He starts to get down.

  I reach down and pull him back up. “I’m begging you. Please don’t let me go again.”

  He stares into my eyes, sees right through me, deep into my soul. “Why would you want me? A broken shell, a guy walking around with a time bomb strapped to his back, because that’s what being with me means. People have died because of me. They still might.”

  “I k
now, but it’s not your fault. That’s what you don’t understand. And Abbey?” He stiffens at her name, tensing up, but I push on. “She wasn’t your fault either.”

  His eyes grow glassy, but he refuses to cry, to let those floodgates open. “I couldn’t save her. I mean, fuck, I almost lost a brother this morning because I was too busy sulking here when I should have been out with them.”

  “You saved me, didn’t you?”

  He sniggers. “Save you only to, what? See you killed in the crossfire when they come?”

  “I’m getting sick of telling you—”

  “I know, I know. You can handle yourself.”

  I press my hand up against his chest. “I don’t want to replace her, Deacon.” I press my hand harder over his heart, welcome the solid thud of it against my palm.” I know she will always have a place here and I’m fine with that, with sharing you.”

  He breathes in deeply, looks to the roof before locking eyes with me once more. “Are you sure? Are you really sure. It won’t be an easy life with me.”

  I smile. “Did I say I wanted an easy life?”

  He presses forward and kisses me—urgent, needy, the breath taken from my body as we finally come together again and the world slips away into the periphery. Kissing him, my hand against his beating chest, I know this is right, that this is precisely where I’m supposed to be and nowhere else. Whether he thinks he has to protect me or not, I’ve never felt as safe as when I’m in his arms, my body against his, his arms around me.

  I hold him away. “I can’t believe Bo was attacked by a shark. It’s crazy.”

  “Not just a shark, a great white.” Deacon says it with a kind of reverence. “I mean, I even saw the chopper overhead, wondered what fucking idiot had fallen off a cliff or drowned now. It didn’t even occur to me…” he looks into the distance, eyes glassy.

  I place my arm around his shoulders, pull him in, but it’s like trying shift a bus. “He’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “I should have been out there. It’s my responsibility to look after them.”

  “You can’t look after them all the time. They’re fully grown men who can take responsibility for their own actions.”

  “The top of his leg’s fucked up. He’ll need a lot of surgery.”

  “But at least he’ll have his life, right?”

  Deacon huffs. “What kind of life is that? If he can’t surf…”

  “Look at Jade Wheatley. That guy’s got no legs and he can still charge with the best of them. An injury like that is not a life sentence.”

  “You don’t know Bo.”

  “But I know you. Let’s all go, right now, be with him.”

  There’s a loud rapping on the door.

  Deacon looks to it. “I’ll get it.”

  I watch him open the door, all of us surprised to find Sarah standing there.

  She looks at Deacon, looks at me and Razor. “How’s Bo?”

  Deacon nods slowly. “He’s okay. Razor said you called in the chopper?”

  “Least I could do.”

  “Well, thank you, from all of us.”

  A look of concern comes over her face. “Look, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I thought you should see this.” She passes her phone to Deacon.

  I come up behind his back and stare down at the screen of the cell. It’s a newspaper article, a photo of Bo in his hospital bed front and center, leg hoisted into the air.

  Deacon stands and comes over. “What is it?”

  Deacon’s head snaps back to Sarah. “How long has this been live?”

  She knits her eyebrows together. “Don’t you watch the news? It’s everywhere. Great white attack like that, you can be sure every news outlet in the country—hell, the world—will want a piece of your brother, like the shark didn’t have his share already… Sorry, bad turn of phrase there.”

  Deacon drops the phone and punches the wall, enough to smash half of his hand through the plaster. “Fuck!”

  Sarah looks to Razor standing behind me. “I don’t know what it is you boys are running from, but your secret’s as good as out.” She stoops and picks up her phone, tapping the photo of Bo. “Once this gets momentum, and it will, whoever’s looking for you is going to know precisely where you are. I don’t care if you’re hiding the Crown Jewels in there, you’re burnt and this town doesn’t need the trouble. Are you following me?”

  Deacon runs his hands through his hair. “Loud and fucking clear.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DEACON

  There are about a million other places I’d rather be than a hospital, but Lux was right, Bo needs us all right now. To think I was trying to protect them from everything on land when the real danger was lurking in the water, not that I can blame the shark. It’s a predator, yes, but what it did wasn’t out of malice or hate. It was simply looking for a meal. Fuck, maybe it was just curious. In any case, Bo got off light considering what those creatures are capable of.

  I look out the window of Bo’s suite, the harbor of Hobart crammed with boats and yachts.

  I think about Lux and I smile, seeing my own stupid grin staring back at me in glass.

  I have a lot to be thankful for, especially considering this. Maybe it’s the impending danger, but I’m taking stock and it ain’t so bad. Lux is back. She knows everything. It’s a big fucking weight off my shoulders.

  “Are you listening to me, bro?”

  I turn back to the bed. “Sorry?”

  “Jesus, you’re spacing out and smiling over there like Captain fucking Picard. Here, have a look at this. That will put a smile on your dial.”

  Bo shows me the weather section of a local newspaper. “Have you seen this, man? There’s a monster low building off the coast. Should bring a huge swell, maybe the biggest all century, they’re saying.”

  I look out the window, the rain coming down but far from torrential yet. “Can’t say we’ve been following the weather much.”

  It hurts to see him like this, his leg strung up and torso half-bandaged. The doctor told me he needed thirty-seven stiches. Given that, it’s a miracle he’s even this alert, but that’s Bo—tough as a two-dollar steak.

  Bo can hardly contain his excitement. “I’d charge it for you, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere for a while, but you, you prick. You can do it, make history.”

  In a way, the whole reason we came down here in the first place was to surf Shipstern during a big swell. “How big are we talking?” I ask.

  Bo’s smile grows. “Fifty feet or more. I’m imagining fucking liquid buildings out there, bro.”

  Big waves have never worried me. I’ve had a death wish for a long time, but now, with Lux…

  “Do it for me,” he continues.

  What the fuck? I supposed to say no to that? “We’ll see. We’ve got bigger problems with your story getting out.”

  Bo puts his hands up. “I was asleep, man, knocked out. I didn’t even know that reporter was here. The prick just snuck in.” He looks to the window. “Anyhow, enough about that. How are things with Lux?”

  “Better.”

  “That’s all I’m going to get? Come on, bro. I’m sitting around here all day eating what tastes like recycled socks and watching daytime TV. Give me something.”

  “Since when do you watch Oprah?”

  He rolls his head around. “Hospitals, man. They fuck you up. I swear if I have to spend much longer in here I’m going to go Jack Nicholson madman on this shit.”

  I hold his shoulder and squeeze. “We’ll get you out soon, okay? In the meantime, there’s a guy out there who’s going to be here twenty-four seven, a local we can trust, security. Your story’s bringing down a lot of heat. They’re going to come for me, but we need to be ready.”

  “You’re posting a fucking security guard on me now? How much heat are we talking about?”

  I shrug. “Who knows? They might send one like before or they might send a hundred. Whatever it is, we’ll
handle it. We always do.”

  “Don’t you do anything stupid, you hear? I’m not going to be the one half-eaten by a shark only to have you or Razor taken out by a stray bullet. That is not how we go down.”

  I smile back. “No, it sure as hell’s not.”

  I meet Lux in the waiting room, funnily enough the only room in this whole hospital that doesn’t seem to have any windows or natural light. Shitty light or not, she looks fucking hot right now in her favorite jeans and sweater, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail I want to hang onto while I ram into her from behind, her pussy milking me of every last drop until I’m aching and empty.

  I’m almost tempted to suggest we head down the hall to find an empty supply room, but the place is busy. The last thing I need is a public indecency charge and more heat.

  I take a seat beside her. She reaches over and takes my hand. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I sent Razor in to listen to his rambling. I swear to god he’d be back in the water already if he could find a way.”

  “He’ll get there.”

  I nod. “He’s a Hunt.”

  “That’s not your real surname, is it?”

  I shake my head. “No, it is not.”

  “Your real name. Don’t you miss it?”

  I’ve never really thought about it before. My sole concern was flipping our identities completely, not looking back on that former life. “How’d you even work this all out? Through your friends in the force over there?”

  “I went to Millertown.”

  The vending machine in the corner is buzzing, driving me fucking insane. “You did what?”

  She pulls up her phone. “That photo on your wall? I took a snap of it, showed it around to see if anyone recognized you.”

  And here I was worried about the danger locally. If Lux showed my picture around Millertown…

  “It’s okay,” she continues. “I only showed it to a guy at a gas station who didn’t recognize you, but he did direct me to someone who did.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Storm.”

  My anger starts to dissipate. If anyone, I’m thankful it was him, one of the last decent guys left in that shithole. She’s watching me carefully. “What did he tell you?”