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“No, wise ass. It’s from inside your truck.”
“Oh.” I tested my acting abilities again. “My brother borrowed this truck yesterday. He’s big on the hunting thing.” Such a lie. None of my brothers would hunt. Woodrow would rather chop off his own nuts and eat them, and the other two wouldn’t dare, not wanting the drama he’d cause over it.
Besides, we had enough blood on our hands.
“I don’t even notice it these days.”
“I’m going on a hunt myself tonight.” He tapped the thick black handle attached to the long, shiny blade that I could easily imagine dragging along my throat.
But I wasn’t afraid.
“It’s not my thing, personally.”
“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.” He laughed.
“You do you, man.” The view out of the windshield, of nothing but grass, was more appealing to me than his face.
“Anyway, I don’t want strangers here, scaring my little girls.”
His words had my ears pinging back, eager to hear more because they sounded like something a deprived, sick bastard would say.
“So, before I kick you off my land, who were you looking for?”
The man with the false accent spat phlegm into the grass, giving it the only watering it had in weeks, thanks to the very dry winter.
“His name is Hell,” was all I said.
I cursed myself for naming one of Woodrow’s alters, but it would be okay. There were no legal or illegal documents that tied him to that name, and Hell never left our fucking land alone. He could hold his own if someone showed up on the doorstep, happy to cause trouble.
He laughed. “That’s some name. I might adopt it.”
I smiled, and from the angle of my head, he wouldn’t have seen any more than my bottom lip curl.
“You have a good day now.” He tapped the roof of my truck so hard that I bit my tongue, stopping myself from asking if he wanted to pay for the fucking damage.
I nodded, using the brown grass his land was covered in to turn my truck around. He followed me down the winding road. That was the reason I turned my car in the opposite direction, leading him to the next turning, where my favorite hidden gem sat in the darkness, surrounded by daisies and trees and not much else.
Blend was the name of the drive-through coffee shop. Be it the perfect blend is up to you, was the slogan that sat underneath the giant rectangular sign.
I picked up my regular order, three chocolate-topped lattes with a dash of caramel, all for me. I kept my face from view as I ordered. I returned to the sign and parked beneath it. It was my favorite space because the odd few cars that stopped here regularly avoided it, not wanting their cars smashed by the unsafe-looking sign that desperately needed a makeover.
The first sip of coffee calmed me down as it slipped down my throat. I wasn’t nervous. That wasn’t the issue, even as the giant in plaid parked beside me.
Cunt.
More words filled my mind. Holy fucking shit. And that was precisely how my life suddenly felt—fucking shit—as my phone started vibrating.
Ollie’s name was on the screen, and a green phone asked me to accept the call.
I rolled up my window, keeping the conversation private because the guy at my side, saluting me like I was some magpie about to thieve from him—which I was—wasn’t here by coincidence.
I took the call. No doubt I’d regret it in seconds.
“How’s my favorite brother?”
“Don’t give me shit, Remi. You have no idea how tired I am.”
“Oh, I can imagine.”
