by C. M. Owens
I’m paranoid, so I notice shit like this.
“Neither,” is his gruff reply as he shakes out the paper and starts feigning interest in it once more.
As much as I don’t want to out myself, my paranoia can’t handle this anymore. I need real sleep, and I can’t get it when I have a gun under my pillow with my finger poised on the trigger, waking to the sound of every creak, crack, and tap in my house.
“You’re going to have to do better than that. You see, I’ve been in this town for a while. They don’t know the Death Dealers. The MCs who pass through here are actually the normal, good-guy kind. You know, the guys who ride for fun, do incredibly charitable work for the communities...like raising awareness for autism, and other good things like that. They may look rough but they hug like teddy bears. This place doesn’t have the fear they need to give a shit who you are, and I’m five seconds from calling the police if you don’t tell me who you are and what you want.”
He snorts as though he finds this all amusing, and I stand up and move around the busy coffee shop to sit down in front of him. I steel myself for whatever comes next.
The paper lowers immediately, and my breath runs out in a harsh burst. I didn’t steel myself enough to see the ice-blue eyes that are staring back into mine.
Eyes I never thought I’d see staring through me again.
Most people only know him by one name. Even his closest friends assumed it was his real name. Even the club assumed that one name was actually his.
But I know who he really is.
Rusty Asher, only known to the Death Dealers as Rush, sits in front of me, eyes on mine like it’s no big deal as he smirks and arches an eyebrow.
His body is different than I can remember, but since he’s sitting down, it’s hard to be sure how different. Gone is the long hair, and in its place...a more spiky look. Gone is the soft look in his eyes, replaced by a harder, less naïve glare.
Gone is the boy I knew if he’s come to this town, and in his place, someone who was sent by Herrin to finally take me out.
My hands ball into fists under the table as I try to regain my composure. I guess I only thought I was ready to confront this. Pop really is a demon to use Rush for this.
“So it’s you,” I state, sounding much calmer and less betrayed than I feel. “In the end, he sent you.”
Rush, for whatever reason, rolls his pretty/hard eyes. “Herrin didn’t send me. Drex did. I can’t talk about this here, so if you want to chat, let’s find somewhere with fewer people,” he tells me, his voice sounding deeper, rougher, and much...different than I remember.
I really don’t like the way my stupid body tries to respond to it. I know better than to be that ridiculous. The past is the past.
The present is constant paranoia and Death Dealer drama.
“I’m sure you’d like to get me somewhere with fewer people,” I say with a bitter smile, trying not to show him how much this actually hurts. “But I’m also sure you understand I didn’t survive seven years just to die now by the hands of a guy I once begged to go away with me.”
I take his coffee, drink a sip, still playing the part of a girl who isn’t inwardly pissing herself like a wimp. Fear always spikes my sex drive. I’m fucked up like that.
I blame my raising.
He just smirks. Rush was never a smirker unless it involved some exaggerated praise for his juvenile bedroom skills.
Now he smirks at something like this?
“Lots of things have gone down this past year,” he says, pulling his coffee back and sipping it as well. “I’ll fill you in later. For now, don’t you have a job to go to?”
Standing like it’s no big deal he plans to get me alone, I shrug, pretending not to be fazed by the fact he mentioned later a little too assuredly. “Suit yourself. Get trigger happy, and you won’t get out of town. They go so far as to track down jay-walkers here. Strict town, this one,” I chirp.
Putting the devil’s advocate at my back, I turn and walk out. My entire body is humming with nervous energy that I hide as I walk out of the coffee shop and cross the street to the diner like I haven’t a care in the world.
That didn’t go at all the way it was going in my head.
Julia is hustling between tables, and relief crosses her face when she sees me. I don’t say anything as I go to clock in and put on my apron. She meets me in the back just as I put my pen behind my ear.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You still have that hiring file updated?” I ask her, ignoring her sound of relief.
Frowning, she nods. “Yeah, but I can’t really afford to hire anyone new yet. The renovations—”
“Remember when I told you I had some issues with my mom that might one day cause problems, and that I might have to leave with very little notice?” I interrupt, concentrating on retying my apron instead of meeting her eyes this time.
“Sheesh, Karen, you told me about that when I first hired you...like seven or eight years ago...and never spoke about your family again. Now you bring it up?” Her hand comes down on mine, and I look up into her worried eyes. “Are you in trouble?”
Ha! Understatement of the century. Time to bump up my acting skills.
“Of course not,” I lie with a tight smile. “Just some family stuff I need to take care of out in New York.”
Lies. All lies. Everything this town knows about Karen Canady is one solid blanket of tightly woven lies to cover up Kara Caine.
“How long will you be gone?” she asks.
“At least a year, but I hope to be back sooner than that.” Another lie.
I’ll either be dead or gone for good so I can start over as another girl in another small town.
Rush can’t do anything to me while I’m in here, so I have at least a couple of hours to work out my next move.
“When do you leave?” she asks, sounding defeated.
I wouldn’t call us friends, but she does. I’ve always been careful not to get too close. I never wanted to feel comfortable enough to spill my secrets to a friendly ear, only to have it thrown back in my face and cost me my savings or my life.
“Tomorrow morning.” Another lie.
At least I finally know who my perverted neighbor is. I see his shadow move through the house, always following me and never turning on his lights.
Always watching me.
It’s a little weird now that I know it was him and not just some random flunky my father or brother sent to spy on me...or simply slit my throat.
Rush certainly isn’t one of my brother’s guys.
I spent all that time putting on a little show for him, planning to draw him out and force him to try something so I could put a bullet in his head. When he never made a move, I started wondering why he was content to just watch.
Now I don’t care. I sure as hell can’t shoot Rush. Almost anyone else, but not Rush.
“Call me before you leave,” Julia tells me, patting my shoulder. “I’ll get your paycheck ready.”
I give her a soft smile and nod before heading out on the floor. Charity almost bumps into me, and her eyes fill with relief and annoyance when she sees me.
“About time you show up. Table two has had five guys on it for most of the morning. You take them, because I’m sick of doing refills, and it’s your section. They won’t leave more than five dollars for a tip. I know the type.”
Instead of saying anything to her—the way I usually do when she tries to boss me around—I grab the coffee pot and the water pitcher. Plastering on my waitressing smile, I move through the routine, feigning indifference to my stalker across the street.
I take orders, give refills, moving quickly through the rows of my section. When I finally reach the table of five, they all turn to look at me.
Which is creepy.
But a slow smile spreads my lips when I realize who they are. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.
One of them glances at my name tag. “Karen Canady?” he asks,
a slow smile creeping up.
“Yeah. How’d you know my last name?” I ask.
They seem homegrown and country bred. Just backwoods enough to be brutal and bold, yet refined enough to where you know they’re also clever. If you pay attention, that is.
“You’re the employee of the month,” the blond says as he gestures above his head to my row of endless pictures. “Apparently, you’re always the employee of the month. Underachieving in life, Karen?”
I flash my smile again.
“You guys need refills?” I ask instead of answering.
The one closest to me pushes his coffee cup toward me, and I top it off, as another says, “Your name sounds real familiar, though it took me a minute to place it,” one says, but...the words sound like bait instead of truth.
My gaze flicks up, and I literally bat my lashes. “Oh?”
I top off another coffee, and start filling water glasses as he answers.
“Yeah. Actually, I think I heard it the first time about a month ago. You see, we’re passing through on our way to our family’s hunting lodge, and I came through last month to see if I could get any answers about our brother.”
“Mmm,” I murmur as I narrow my eyes.
“Your name came up.”
“Oh?” I ask again. “Maybe I could help. I know most everyone in town, so strangers stick out.”
I don’t like the grin he gives me. Too obvious. Maybe they’re not too clever.
“Oh, and do you know this guy?” Troy...er...I mean the blondish-redhead says...with zero finesse.
It’s easier to feign unfamiliarity when you don’t think of people you know with names.
“His name is Collin Smith. He’s our youngest brother. Ever seen him?” he asks, pushing the picture and name at me.
I don’t react at all. My features remain exactly the same as I slowly feign interest in the photo.
“Hmm...he does look familiar,” I say as I study the blond in the photograph.
“But I can’t say if I actually remember him or not. When did you say he came through?” I go on.
Five hard looks meet mine when my gaze swings up, and not one of them looks impressed with my acting skills. To be fair, my awesome skills only get used when I want to use them.
“Thing is, fella at the pawn shop says he remembers him hanging around this diner all day when we told him there was a girl in town that caught our brother’s attention. He knew without a doubt it’d be you,” he drawls, his eyes raking over me.
“Definitely Collin’s type,” another chimes in.
“That fella also said you worked a double that day, and Collin stayed in your section for fourteen hours. That’s a lot of time to forget, don’t you think, Ms. Canady?”
I find it annoying that they neglect to mention the ‘anonymous tip’ they got that told them to go see Perry Waters.
Old, reliable Perry Waters and his nosy people-watching and meticulous note taking. I bet he pulled out a journal, happy to help them if he could.
I hate it when girls wring their hands, but I wish I could do it right now.
“Well, my memory isn’t quite so good. It’s actually not that uncommon for out-of-towners to spend most of the day in here. Free wifi, free refills—as you boys have certainly taken advantage of, from what I hear.” I wink at them, sticking with the small-town charm thing. “The food is good, the coffee is the best in town, and the pie is something people write home about. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to the other customers.”
A hand clamps down on my arm before I can pick up my coffee pot, and my gaze flicks to the bastard gripping it much tighter than necessary.
“Hate to be a bother, Miss,” the guy says without an ounce of sincerity, “but when our parents died back ten years ago, they left us in charge of our little brother. He’s about your age,” he goes on. “What are you, twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
I just smile tightly.
“As I said, I don’t quite remember him. Faces come and go, and I don’t have the ability to commit them all to memory.”
“I asked your age, sweetheart,” the guy says, moving a little closer as his hand tightens on my wrist.
My eyes lock on his, and I hold his gaze.
This day will be very interesting before it’s over. It’s been a long time since I had an interesting day. Didn’t realize the adrenaline rush could feel this good.
“Everything okay over here, Karen?” Deputy Warren asks, coming close enough for me to see the coffee cup in his hand from my peripheral as he stands close to me.
The guy glaring into my eyes releases me with a sinister grin on his lips, and I straighten, ignoring the throbbing in my arm. It takes more than that to make me flinch at pain. That’s the leftover stubborn pride I have for fear of ever looking even a little weak.
My family would eat the weak alive and then laugh about their tears while ‘toughening them up’ some more.
But...Warren doesn’t miss the marks left behind on my arm.
“These guys are looking for their brother who went missing a year ago, and for whatever reason, they seem to suspect me,” I tell Warren, looking over at him with my faux fearful eyes.
Warren’s eyes widen in disbelief, and the five guys at the table bristle, clearly not expecting me to just blurt it out like that. After all, I’m just a little girl they wanted to intimidate before they follow me home to torture and kill me.
That’s not the paranoia talking either.
“I’m afraid you boys might need to load up soon and get out of town,” Warren tells them coldly, and I step closer, playing the victim even as I restrain my smile.
The diner has grown quiet, all eyes on them now. The tables have turned, because several of the bigger guys in the diner stand, making a show of backing Warren.
The five guys at the table slowly stand, their eyes leveling me with a silent threat. I love it when I do the unexpected and it leaves my opponent in a silent stupor.
That’s what they get for leaving out the anonymous tip thing.
Warren makes sure to put himself between me and them, and everyone in the diner turns to watch them walk out. The five of them leave real damn fast.
The thing about small towns is once you’re one of them, they have your back.
My eyes flit over to the coffee shop, and I see Rush standing outside, propped against the wall as he stares directly at me like he was viewing the entire showdown.
His earbuds are back in, because he’s had the diner wired for a while. I found the first camera two months ago. Clearly I gave no indication that I found it, but for every one I’ve found, ten more are probably hidden around all aspects of my life.
I think it’s cute how Rush apparently feels I’ve lost my edge over the past seven years. This is the first time my adrenaline has spiked in years with the edge of fear/excitement instead of just looking-over-my-shoulder fear.
“This is a terrible start to your last day,” Julia says as she comes over. “Are you okay?”
“Last day?” Warren asks, an air of suspicion in his tone.
“It’s been coming for a while,” Julia tells him vaguely. “She didn’t want a fuss made over her, but her momma needs her help.”
Warren’s eyes soften, and the tiny bit of suspicion flees.
“If those five come back, you give me a call, you hear,” Warren tells Julia.
“Of course,” she answers without hesitation, her voice a little shaky.
Warren leans over to my ear. “Be careful with whatever is coming, Karen. And call me if you need me for anything.”
If it wasn’t such a small town, I’d kiss his cheek for that offer, because I know without a doubt it’d be genuine. But since it is a small town, I’d rather not get his wife pissed at him, since she already hates me.
“Thanks, Warren. More coffee?” I ask, holding up the pot.
He just grins as I top him off, and then he heads back to his seat to talk the “good ol’ boys” club, who all nod at me
before they sit back down.
I’m really going to miss this town.
Julia drags me toward the back, and I practically feel the nervous tension bouncing off her when we’re alone.
“Was that—”
“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” I assure her.
“Their brother, what did he look like?” she asks seriously.
I smirk. “Pretty cute.”
She rolls her eyes. “You really should take some things seriously,” she grumbles, going back out to work.
If only she knew...
My eyes lift to the window like it’s already a bad habit, but Rush isn’t there anymore. He’s also not at the coffee shop table where he hides behind the letters on the windows.
I have no idea who Rusty Asher is anymore, but I know he looked twice as lethal without an ounce of humor or charm left in his voice or his dead, cold eyes.
Right now, I’d be far more afraid of one man than five, even if I felt like I had to be afraid of the Smith brothers.
I know I’m an excellent actress. I’ve had a lot of experience in that. With any good luck, I’m still smarter than Rusty Asher.
Chapter 3
RUSH
“That little problem is now a big one,” I tell Drex over speakerphone as I finish cleaning my gun and assembling it.
I move on to the next gun when I’m finished, my jaw ticking as I do so.
“How big?” Drex asks loudly, trying to make his voice carry over the obnoxious music in the background.
Sounds like there’s yet another party to keep the guys happy despite death coming at us from every angle.
Fucking Death Chasers is now our new name, compliments of that fucknut Drake. I told Drex to stop letting Eve hang around Drake so much. Lately, she sounds just fucking like him.
“It’s probably going to get messy. They didn’t get a hotel room, so I couldn’t bug the place. The car they drove was parked right in front of the diner window where they were sitting, so I couldn’t get close enough to bug it before they left.” I take a breath and a moment to get my anger restrained. “They threatened her. And I’m guessing shit will be going down tonight since Kara’s planning on splitting tonight, even though she told people in town she was leaving tomorrow.”
