Page 55 of Midnight Curfew

“How?” Trace asks, still not getting it.

But before I open my mouth, Macon replies, “Our people will be arrested,” he states, “fined, and/or inevitably detained if caught breaking curfew. Some will flee by the end of the summer. It’ll be too much trouble to deal with. Our businesses will become less profitable, including Liv’s movie, and this will kill our liquor distribution.”

“They want to hinder any ground we’ve gained over there,” I explain to Trace, “and they want us away from their women.”

A laugh breaks the somber mood, all of us looking to Aracely.

“Army doesn’t fuck his own,” she teases. “What will he do now?”

“I work days.” He narrows his eyes without missing a beat. “And I get an hour for lunch.”

I would snort if I weren’t so tired. He can still sleep with Saint women, I guess, as long as he does it when the sun is up.

She tosses him a snide smile, but she doesn’t break eye contact till he does.

“Fucking focus,” Macon tells us. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

We’ll figure it out. Our ancestors didn’t fail, and we’re not losing the Bay on our watch.

But his phone rings, interrupting us. He holds it to his ear. “What?” he answers, his tone clipped.

We could get the liquor to Trace’s, albeit in smaller shipments. Several trips back and forth in smaller vehicles that won’t look suspicious during the day. It’ll take longer, though, which will increase the likelihood we’ll be discovered.

Maybe a laundry truck? We have people who work, cleaning and transporting bedding and towels to the hotels. The police won’t take a second glance at them on the roads.

They will wonder why those trucks are pulling in and out of Trace’s pub, though. Fuck.

“What?” Macon bites out.

We all turn, looking at him. His dark brow is pinched, his body as tense as stone.

“Goddammit!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up.

Krisjen hops off the buffet, ready to be there, and I grab the bottle back from Trace, because I’m gonna need it.

“They’re not releasing Santos and Torres,” he announces, then addresses Army. “You either deal with this, or I’m sending in the lawyer.”

“Just let me do my job,” he retorts, grabbing his radio and holstering it along with his firearm. “I’ll bring them home.”

He leaves, and I know Macon doesn’t blame him, but Army didn’t know about the curfew. The sheriff hid it from him, probably because he was asked to, but it definitely means our brother is being deliberately stonewalled in his own department. Doesn’t do much for the relationships he’s trying to foster there, as if cops from Sanoa Bay aren’t equal. If they kept this from him, they could consider him expendable in dangerous situations, too.

Trace knocks Iron on the shoulder. “Iron and I will move the trucks to the drive-in for now,” he tells Macon.

They both leave the same way Army did, squeezing past Aracely. “Be careful,” she says to them. She didn’t say that to Army.

Liv hasn’t said anything, and honestly, I don’t know why I expect her to. Macon and Army survived so we could thrive, and as the youngest, she was shielded from most of the bullshit it took to get us prosperous.

Macon drifts toward me. “Do you remember when I said not to fuck with him?”

I hold out my hand, gesturing to his wife and then to Liv’s girlfriend, Clay. It’s okay for them to fuck Saints and not me? How was I supposed to know?

He gives me a lazy smile, turning and wrapping his arms around his wife.

“You have surveillance at Fox Hill,” I remind him.

“Which I’ll use when I’m ready.”

I almost start laughing. “If there’s ever a greater need for that leverage, I can’t imagine what it is.”