“Okay, I guess. She admitted that she’s pregnant—and she wants to keep it. And, um, I kinda said we wouldn’t send her away. Hey! She was upset—I don’t know what to do with blubbering kids. Aimee abandoned me in there!”
Tucker snickered.
“Not that much of a kid if she’s having a baby.”
Aimee cuffed him around the head, but in one way he was right. I kept thinking of her as a kid, but she’d be a mother soon, bringing a new life into the world.
Hell, she was still a kid. I’d never met anyone less prepared to face the world. It was a good thing she’d run away with the carnival.
Aimee tugged Kes’s sleeve.
“I’ll see if I can get her an appointment with me tomorrow at the local hospital, then you can drive both of us.”
Kes didn’t seem too happy about that suggestion, but he gave a curt nod of agreement.
For the rest of the day, Sara stayed in the RV. I was pleased that she was taking my advice to rest, but I kind of missed seeing her around the place. I guess I’d gotten used to her.
The sky was fading in the twilight and I knew I needed to get back to the rig to start cleaning up. I’d been off my game all day and had made a couple of rookie mistakes in the evening show. It wasn’t entirely to do with Sara.
For a split second earlier in the afternoon, the briefest of moments, I thought I was seeing things—someone from my past. Common sense tells you that it can’t be, that it’s just the imagination of a tired mind. I tried to shake it off, but my time in prison had given me a sixth sense for danger. I could feel it, and I’d learned to trust my gut.
For the rest of the day, I was on high alert, scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for any small detail that didn’t fit.
When more than three hours had passed with no further sighting, I began to relax.
Mistake number one. Because then I saw him.
Roy hadn’t been in the running for any beauty prizes when I’d last seen him six years ago, but now he could have gotten a job in the carnival if we still had freak shows. The tattoos that had covered his arms and neck seemed to have flowed upward, with colorful ink covering the top of his hairless head.
His left eye was gone, an old scar making a seam through his eyelid and cheek. He’d put on some weight, too, a vast belt of fat hanging over the top of his pants. But his arms looked as thick and musclebound as ever, and he was flanked by two toughs whose cold eyes glared at me. One of them was swinging a metal stake that we used to hold down the canvas on the sideshows.
They’d found me in a quiet corner near the performers’ RVs and behind the rig. No one would see me here. And I didn’t think this was going to be a friendly hello.
Mistake number two.
“Hello, Roy. Long time.”
I stood with my hands hanging at my side, my stance loose and easy. There was nothing nearby that I could use as a weapon, so I’d have to snatch the stake from the goon on Roy’s right. It was my only chance, because I knew this wasn’t just going to be a spectacular beat down. I knew Roy, and he was out for blood.
“Colton.”
I waited for him to show his hand, tense and ready to move, but Roy seemed to want to take his time. He’d always been that way.
“You’ve been a hard man to find.”
I scratched my beard.
“I’ll talk to my publicist.”
He cracked a smile, showing a gap where his front teeth should be. Along with his bald head, it gave him an oddly innocent expression, like an overgrown baby.
“You like living on the road?” he asked companionably.
“I like it well enough.”
He nodded slowly, then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuffing one in that big, gaping mouth, before offering the pack to me.
“No, thanks.”
He lit the cigarette, cupping the flame from his lighter as he looked up.
“You off the weed?”
“Living clean, Roy.”
The truth was that I’d given up when Kes had been hospitalized a couple of years back. I’d spent a lot of hours with him in there and I didn’t want to keep running out to get a smoke. It was easier to stop, so I did.
Roy gave a hacking cough and frowned at his cigarette as smoke leaked from his mouth.
“I should quit.”
“Yeah, you should.”
He gave me a sour look and we both knew I wasn’t talking about smoking.
“You testified.” He filled his mouth and spit onto the grass. “Federal fucking Rule 35. I didn’t think you’d do that to me, Zef. We were friends, goddammit.”
I leaned forward meeting his eyes glare for glare.
“We stopped being friends when you set me up. We stopped being friends when you put the word out that I was dealing meth. And a fucking friend wouldn’t have tried to bring my family into your shitty world.”
“You’re a self-righteous motherfucker, Colton. You ratted me out and you ratted my boss out.”
“I cut a deal when I heard you’d gotten out of Georgia. Last I heard you were in West Virginia.”
“That supposed to make me feel better? I’ve got a $20,000 bounty on my head!”
“Is that all?” I laughed. “Big time villain, Roy.”
He chuckled quietly, his misshapen mouth creasing in a laugh. Then he turned to the two men.
“Break his face first.”
The goon with the stake took a swing at me, the wickedly sharp edge catching in my t-shirt as I stepped just out of reach. He swung again, and I lunged forward, getting one hand on the stake before I was grabbed from behind. A kidney punch brought me to the ground, sending pain flooding through me, my back on fire, and I saw Roy’s heavy biker boot aiming for my face.
I formed my arms into an X-shape, blocking his foot as it grazed my cheek. I twisted, taking him with me, but the first goon was still swinging the stake, aiming at my exposed back.
Oh shit! This is gonna hurt!
I heard a scream but it wasn’t me.
Sara was standing with one hand held out in front of her as if she could save me, the other covering her mouth.
The second goon grinned when he saw her. She tried to run but he caught her by her long ponytail, yanking her back roughly.
Distracted by her screams, goon one hesitated in his swing and I managed to grapple the stake from his hand, slamming it against his shin, making him howl.
Then I heard another scream, but this time it was Roy, a high-pitched shriek that sounded almost inhuman. I looked up to see a knife sticking right through the middle of his hand, pinning it to his wide belly.
Then another knife thudded into flesh with a soft whump, and the goon holding Sara cursed as he tried to pluck a small throwing knife that was sprouting from his thigh.
“I’ll take out an eye next, and you don’t have one to spare.”
I recognized Ollo’s voice even as I thudded the stake into the other goon’s chest.
Then I heard the pounding of feet as Kes and Tucker came running over, landing punches and getting in more than a few kicks.
Roy and his goons were whipped, bleeding into the dusty grass of the back lot.
I glanced at Ollo.
“You missed, old man.”
“The hell I did!” he spat indignantly.
“Yeah? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were aiming for that fella’s fat ass.”
He started to laugh, a squeaky, coughing, wheezing sound. Then he strode forward, plucking free his knives as his victims bled quietly, their furious eyes jittery.
“These assholes friends of yours?” Kes asked idly, his gaze cold.
“Never seen the Brothers Grimm,” I replied, “but Roy and I go way back. We were friends until he tried to frame me and set up Daniel.”
Kes nodded slowly.
“What do you want to do with them?”
I glanced at Sara who looked as though she was going to be sick.
“Nothing permanent. Just take
out the trash.”
I rubbed my bruised ribs while Kes pulled out his phone. Within two minutes, Al, the ride foreman and several of the roustabouts arrived and bundled Roy and the goons away.
“I’ll be seeing you, Colton!” Roy called, his voice ending in a groan as Buddy, one of the ride operators put a fist wrist deep into his overflowing stomach.
“Wait!”
I strode after them and grabbed the front of Roy’s t-shirt, hearing it rip as I dragged him to his feet.
“You had your chance, Roy, now listen up,” I hissed, my face inches from his. “I know enough about you to claim that twenty K reward money, but I’m not going to. I’ll leave that job to someone else because I don’t want your blood money. I did my time and I’ve paid my dues. But you know what? All it would take is one call and I’d give up enough new dirt on you to add a couple of zeroes to your bounty price. Every lowlife piece of scum would be after you—you wouldn’t last a month. Stay away from me and stay away from my brother. And if you’re smart, which you’re not, don’t ever go to another carnival because I’ll know, and I’ll make that call.”
His face was fixed in a leer of loathing, but I knew that I’d made my point. Buddy and Val dragged him away, while the other roustabouts hustled the goon squad from the fairground.
“You okay, bro?” Tucker asked, his eyes flicking from me to Sara.
“Yep. Thanks for your help, guys.” And I turned to Ollo and high fived him. “You’re a legend, old man.”
Ollo grinned, cleaning the bloody throwing knives on the long grass.
Tucker turned to Sara, his expression worried.
“You okay, sweet cheeks? They hurt you at all?”
She shook her head slowly, although she looked shocked and pale. Then her gaze turned to me.
“Aw, don’t you worry, sugar. It’ll take more than a couple of ugly sons-of-guns to get the drop on ole Zef over there. He’ll take care of you. Nothin’ that Maddie’s funnel cake can’t fix.”
I thought it might take more than that to wipe the memory of her fear, but silently I escorted her back to the RV.
And yeah, she said yes to funnel cake.
She sat curled up on the small couch in the living area, sipping on a hot chocolate. Aimee said sweet things were good for shock.
When she looked up, I knew that she was going to ask me about Roy.
“Who were those guys?”
“I don’t know the two henchmen, but I knew the other when I lived in Savannah. Haven’t seen him in a bunch of years.”
She studied the rim of her cup.
“He really hates you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”
“What did he do to you?”
There were a lot of ways to answer that. I chose the easiest answer—and the one most economical with the truth.
“He tried to set me up—it didn’t work.”
I saw that she had more questions, but I was surprised by her new direction.
“How did you become a stunt rider?”
I didn’t feel much like giving her my life story, but if it took her mind off of Roy . . . I shrugged.
“I always liked motorcycles. Kinda just happened.”
She lifted an eyebrow, not buying my short answer.
“Yeah? I ride a bicycle. Maybe I can join the Daredevils.”
I couldn’t help a reluctant grin.
“Sure, we could go with a female rider—something for the fanboys in the crowd.”
She giggled.
“Seriously, Zef, how did you get into it? I mean, not every guy—or girl—who rides a motorcycle becomes a stunt rider.”
True, but I wasn’t lying either. It had pretty much just happened.
“I used to do some motor cross racing when I was a kid. My dad was into bikes and I learned from him. I spent a lot of time fixing up the engines and metalwork, too, since I couldn’t afford a mechanic most of the time. When I joined the carnival, I was helping out working on the rides, fixing the bumper cars or any piece of machinery that broke, those kind of things. I met Kes and Tucker—they’d just started out with the Daredevils and were looking for a mechanic. I ended up being a third rider as well.”
“You’re lucky,” she said, looking down. “Doing what you love.”
“Yeah.”
I was luckier than she knew.
Seeing Roy had reminded me of everything that I thought I’d left behind—and of everything that I had to lose.
The next morning, we were all awake early as usual. Sara was subdued at breakfast, but looked better than the day before. I noticed that she didn’t eat much, just pushing a piece of toast with peanut butter and jelly around her plate. I had to look away to stop from yelling at her to eat the damn thing.
I didn’t know if she was worried about her doctor’s appointment or whether she was still freaking out about Roy and his goons. She hadn’t spoken about it again, and I was of the opinion that the least said the better.
She looked different today for another reason, as well. For a start, she was wearing one of Aimee’s summer dresses and she’d left her hair long and loose instead of pulling it back in a ponytail like she did every other day. She wasn’t bad looking when she made an effort.
Kes had just helped both girls into Zach’s old truck that we used if we didn’t want to take the RV into town, when Zach walked over, accompanied by two men wearing neckties and hardhats, and both were carrying clipboards.
“Sorry, Kes. These men are from Health & Safety to do an equipment check.”
Kes frowned.
“Your colleagues were here on Monday morning before we opened.”
“Good morning, Mr. Donohue,” said the older guy. “My name is John Henderson. I’m the team leader for Grant County’s Health & Safety Department. We’re undertaking a second inspection because a member of the public expressed some concerns, so we’re here to check them out.”
Kes scowled.
“What concerns?”
“Specifically, how close your motorcycles come to the first row of the bleachers.”
“It’s all by the book.”
“We’d appreciate your time.”
“I’m just about to take my wife to a doctor’s appointment, so it’ll have to wait.”
Henderson nodded.
“I understand, but any delay could result in your first performance today being delayed—or cancelled.”
Kes looked as though he as was about to leap out of the truck and do some damage on the guy, but Aimee laid her hand on his arm.
“Kes, it’s fine. I’ll drive me and Sara to the hospital. We’ll be fine—I have GPS on my cell phone. It’s only twenty minutes.”
I could see that Kes was frustrated at being over a barrel.
“I’ll drive,” I heard myself saying. “I’ll take care of them.”
Kes was still torn, but Aimee threw me a quizzical look.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Look after them, Zef, I’m counting on you.”
I glanced at Tucker who was grinning at me, then mimed rocking a baby in his arms and making kissy faces while he laughed his ass off. Idiot.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and waited until Sara and Aimee had fastened their seatbelts. Then I saluted Kes, gave Tucker the bird, and drove off.
Aimee talked the whole way about prenatal vitamins, yoga for moms-to-be and a bunch of stuff I had no interest in, until she asked Sara the question that had been going around in my mind.
“So, how far along do you think you are?”
“Um, nine-and-a-half weeks.”
Aimee shot me a look at that very specific answer. I kept my eyes on the road.
“Oh, so you’re nearly as far along as me,” Aimee said brightly, but I could hear the concern in her voice.
At the hospital, I found a parking spot, then climbed out of the truck. I stood watching the girls, feeling like a spare part.
“I’ll go get a coffee while you ladies are being seen to,” I said.
“Oh, God, I’d kill for a salted caramel muffin,” Aimee said, her eyes lighting up. “Or a blueberry muffin. Maybe chocolate if they don’t have either of those. And a caramel latte. Or just a latte. No, wait! I can’t have too much caffeine. Make that a decaff or . . .”
“Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Muffin and a milky coffee-free coffee. Got it.” I turned to Sara. “You want anything? You look like you should eat something. You hardly ate anything at breakfast and you’re too damn skinny.”
Her cheeks flushed and Aimee frowned at me.
“What? I just said she needs feeding. She’s gotta eat for two now.”
Aimee’s expression softened, but Sara wouldn’t look at me.
I sighed, wondering how Kes put up with their hormonal asses, and stomped off to find the cafeteria.
“We’ll be in the Maternity Women’s Center,” Aimee called after me.
I waved a hand but didn’t turn around.
I found the cafeteria easily and ordered two girly coffees, a black one for me, and half-a-dozen muffins. That should be enough. Then I changed my mind and bought a dozen muffins—I wasn’t sure how much pregnant women ate, but recently Aimee had made it her new hobby.
The server boxed up the muffins for me and put the coffee in a cardboard tray, then I carried them across the hospital to the Maternity Women’s Center.
Aimee and Sara were sitting together and they were holding hands.
“Kes just called. The inspection went fine and he was going to drive over, but I said we were okay and that you were looking after us.”
I grunted an answer that could have meant anything, but Aimee smiled and helped herself to coffee, rummaging through the box of muffins until she found the salted caramel that she was craving.
“I got you one, as well,” I said, pushing a latte across to Sara.
She looked up surprised.
“I didn’t ask for coffee.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t drink it if you don’t want it.”
“No, no, I want it.” She paused, then without looking up, mumbled, “Thank you, Zef.”
We weren’t the only people in the waiting room: three more women in various stages of pregnancy were there, too; one of them looking so enormous, my eyes kept straying to her straining stomach. Man, that looked painful.
Carnival (The Traveling Series #4) Page 6
