Page 79 of Love You To Pieces

“You are,” Deacon interrupts. “But that’s okay. I like a girl with enthusiasm.” He winks at me when I glare, and I mirror him by taking an overly large bite of macaroni in response.

“Children,” Fox grumbles under his breath, clearly unimpressed by our display. “You’re both children.”

“Like you thought, he knows where they’re living now. Took a bit, though. He’s got some weird thing going on where he thinks he’s loyal to them.” Deacon rolls his eyes and stabs into his macaroni before shoving it into his mouth. “But we both know he ain’t loyal to anyone except himself.”

“Has he always been like this? Like, you know. Buying—people—” My voice falters on the words, and a shudder goes down my spine at the thought. It’s so irrational. So fucking cruel and unnecessary that my stomach coils in displeasure.

“Nah,” Fox denies. “At least, not that I know of. Mom would’ve known, yeah?” He glances at Deacon, who nods, though he doesn’t look up from his food. Apparently, torturing a man has made him starving as hell. “So no, he wasn’t always into this. And he’s been doing a damn good job of hiding it from me. You told him that’s no longer an option, right?”

“I relieved him of the rest of his teeth,” Deacon mumbles around a mouthful of bread. “And quite a few fingers. I think it would be hard for him to enjoy—” He glances at me, swallows, and grins wolfishly. “Sorry. That wasn’t very delicate of me. Yeah, I told him that’s not an option if he wants to keep breathing, lover. And…” He reaches into his jeans pocket and fishes out a crumpled, bloody piece of paper that he sets on the table.

Fox snags it, smoothes it down, and snorts when he reads it. “Really? The sawmill property?” he asks. “That’s pathetic.”

“Yeah.” Deacon grabs another slice of bread, using it to mop up the gravy from the chicken casserole before shoving it in his mouth.

“Why’s that pathetic?” I can’t help asking, feeling like I’m missing something.

Fox looks at me, a frown twitching at his lips. “Because it used to be ours,” he says finally. “My uncle lost it years ago, and none of us cared enough to fight it. Ironic, and fucking pathetic.” He crumples the paper in his hand.

“They’re going to be suspicious, after everything.” Deacon’s words are plaintive and thoughtful. “Can’t just go in guns blazing and expect to get it all done.”

“I could have the deputies check it out?” Fox offers, though he’s frowning and already looking like it’s not a great plan. “They could give some story about a routine…” he trails off as Deacon shakes his head, obviously against the plan.

Neither of them speak, though I watch both of them while using bread to mirror Deacon’s earlier movement. The gravy soaking it makes the sourdough somehow better, if that’s even possible, and I take a few bites, chew, and then swallow, before saying quietly, “Then let me go.”

“Nope.” The word is out of Deacon’s mouth before Fox seems to register my suggestion. “Not a chance, little rabbit.”

The nickname that usually makes me shiver with delight has me rolling my eyes. “If they don’t know I helped Fox, that I came back home with you guys, then what’s to say I might not be roaming Wolf Lake, looking for an escape?” I point out. “Surely your deputies could make that story known?”

“Except, we were at the diner this morning together,” Fox points out, though his words are slow and unsure. “It wasn’t packed, and they don’t know who you are, but…”

“So let me go,” I urge. “Let me help. I can take my phone, just in case. Unless you’ve like, killed it.” I glance at Deacon, who raises his brows like I’ve offended him, but before he can answer, Fox does.

“We still have your phone. And it’s charged.”

“You are not thinking about letting her do this,” Deacon snaps, whipping his head around to look at his brother. “No. Absolutely not, lover. You already traumatized her by taking her to the auto shop, and⁠—”

“Let me go,” I say again, quiet and steely. Something settles in me; a resoluteness that’s been missing for the past week. “We can figure out the specifics and everything together, but let me go. Please. I want to help. I want…”

I trail off and set my fork down.

“I want to avenge my friends, and make sure they can’t collect any more licenses. They’re monsters,” I intone, believing that with my whole being. “They don’t deserve to live.”

Whatever they see in my face, it has Deacon backing down. I see it in the slump of his shoulders and his look of resignation. “Fine,” he grumbles at last, though he’s clearly not happy about it. “But Sadie-Rae, you are taking Pearl, and we will not be far behind. Do you hear me?”

I look up, and when Fox catches my eye, his gaze is no less intense though he doesn’t speak right away. “We’ll let you take your vengeance,” he tells me slowly. His words are careful. Considering. “You deserve that. But after this, you aren’t leaving this place for a long, long time.” The words feel like a threat, but his sudden, crooked grin feels more like a charming promise.

“Not until we’re sure there’s nothing around for us to lose you to.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The night is sticky, and my sweat seems to sit on my skin instead of evaporating as I stare at the old, dilapidated sawmill that looks like something out of a horror movie. My hands flex at my sides, and my hair, finally up in a ponytail, feels heavy with gathered sweat as well.

I tell myself it’s from the heat, not fear.

Hell, I almost believe it, too. Maybe I would, except for the feeling of stones sitting heavy in my stomach, and the whispers in my ears of all the things that could go very, very wrong here.

I could die well before Deacon and Fox show up. I know they’re around, somewhere, though their part of the plan doesn’t really start until the Hills’ attention is on me instead of looking for them.